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Tkaara looks over at the Doctor:
I need a coffin. And lighter armor, although we should have some from the guards, my chainmail is too bulky. I was planning on using the cave we passed when we eliminated the guards. Someplace where I will not have guards bothering my while I get my beauty rest.
After licking another finger, she smiles at the Doctor:
Oh, children of the Pallid Princess have always been around. The Mitrans are usually blind if one does not foolishly attract attention.
After enjoying more of the deceased chief engineer, as she waits for the others to respond, she stands up. While she is just as thin and emaciated as before, now she stands much straighter and you can see every muscle in her form under the pale thin flesh.
"Pallid Princess?" Erevan asks the question as he begins wiping the blood off of his spear using one of the many rags Bellam used to clean the pots and pans with. He is once again himself, the illusion having been willed away as soon as the fighting in the inn starter. Inspecting the now clean spearhead, he nods approvingly. He does not, however, put it back into his magical kitbag. Instead, he holds onto it, using it to lean against casually as he studies this new Tkaara. Despite his apparently relaxed stance though, he is more than a little on edge, especially when their undead companion starts tasting the blood of the slain, and the fact that he still has his weapon at hand and ready to be used is evidence enough of that.
"Well," he says finally, "you seem to have gotten better. At the very least, you are walking around." His eyes narrow then, as his lips form his usual thin crooked smile and his grip on his spear's shaft tightens just a little. "Should we worry?"
Etna looks with incredulity at the others' relative calm about the former barrister rising up as some sort of undead...thing, punching trough several meters of earth, and barging into the inn to eat a dead dwarf.
Striding trough the room toward the undead barrister, the ifrit slaps her with the palm of her hand, staring at her for a moment with eyes on the verge of tears. A moment after, Etna puts around her arms around Tkaara's neck and hugs her tightly.
"Didn't it cross your head for a moment that, maybe, you could have told us that you were about to die?" the ifrit says, her voice a mixture of anger and relief "Instead of, you know, hiding from us that you were starving yourself to death, and then taking a one day nap under the earth?". Putting her hands on the vampire's shoulder, Etna looks her straight into the eyes, smiling affectionately.
"Don't make us ever worry like that, okay? Don't make me ever worry like that." as she says that, she mutters some arcane words: as she adjust the hair on the barrister's brow, the dirt and gore on the undead's emaciated face cleans off as if swiped off by water and soap.
"And...cover yourself. It's disgraceful to walk around like that." the ifrit says as she steps away from the vampire barrister, turning to the other side while trying to regain her composure, barely suppressing a smile.
"Shall we move on? I don't think we can linger here too much." the ifrit says, back to her usual self. "Tkaara, do you absolutely have to sleep in a coffin? I doubt that we can manage to fetch one now and put it into the secret passage in the basement, so that would mean we'd have to split up. And, Erevan?" she turns to the golden eyed-man, still in her Jenna disguise "I don't think we should drop the circlet's illusion until we're done: it'll better if the Mitrans don't make connections between what happened at Balentyne and what will happen here."
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Apparently satiated by her meal, Tkaara looks up at the red headed woman standing above her.
I didn't tell anyone, because I truly did not know. Dying was not my plan, it just seemed to . . . overcome me. I hope you found the circlet. When I realized what was happening, I decided it was best not to be wearing that. I am surprised they did not notice the brand though.
After being cleaned, she stands up, licking the last drops from her fingers, and turns toward Erevan.
The Pallid Princess is one of those who favor the undead. The other major power I know of is the Lord of the lowest levels of the Abyss. I certainly hope that he was not the one to grant me a . . . second chance. Thus, I assume that my gift was from she.
Turning to Felrin, the leader and only member of the group to have not spoken.
So, I assume you all have my bag and equipment. I should be able to get a coffin, and can make my way to the cave. As long as I know what the timing is for tomorrow, I will return.
Very late at night
Rejoined by your (formerly) late companion Tkaara, you make your way down to the cellar of the Lord's Dalliance, trusting to the chaos you created above to cover your tracks for the time being. Aware that time is running low, you make your way through the secret door previously located by Ottakar and move hurriedly towards fort Balentyne.
Arriving in the vault, you ascend the passageway and find yourselves in the armoury . Nobody is around at this time of night and it is a simple matter to climb the stairs. The next room is where the banners of the garrison are kept, with six large flags hanging from the wall. Up the stairs again and you find yourselves in the archers' strongpoint . Taking a few moments to douse the room in oil, you continue upwards to the top of the tower to the antechamber . It is a simple matter to pick the lock silently and burst in to the rookery , slaughtering the lone human inhabitant before he can react. The poisoned bird-seed does its job rapidly and very soon there is not a living raven within the chamber.
Descending quickly, Ottkar looses a flask of alchemist's fire on the arrow room which you previously soaked in oil, causing it to burn satisfyingly. You are gone, sunk into the depths of the long-forgotten dwarven vault, long before the alert is sounded and the fire is tackled. With that distraction, it is almost daybreak before anyone realises that the ravens are all dead...
You have no idea what the weather is doing, as you are deep below ground in a secret passage. Tkaara slept in her coffin; the rest of you made do with bedrolls and blankets hastily salvaged from the inn before you made your escape.
Afternoon ?
You wait. You know that the poisoned lunch is due to be served at midday; you have no idea whether or not the fort is wise to your ruse, or whether it will in fact be served. With all the commotion you caused last night, it is highly unlikely that the Bard of Barrington's play will be performed; indeed, now that you have been revealed as the culprits, who knows what his fate will be - linked as he is to you?
And so you wait. Ottakar's best estimate is that it will take a couple of hours for the poison's effects to show themselves, and so it is late (by your best guess) when you emerge from hiding. The armoury is in use, but you easily charge up the ladder and slay the occupants before they can flee or sound the alarm.
Where will you go next? So far, nobody knows you are here. It is likely that will change quickly. Speedy decisions are required.
You are in room 2 on the map: the armoury.
You are down 1 flask of alchemist's fire.
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Taker's eyes pop open as she once more and a moment of fear envelopes her before she realizes that the darkness is her resting place, and that she is not buried beneath the earth as before. Immediately the hunger once more consumes her and she flings open the lid to her coffin to see her companions already awake and watching the passage with concern, unsure of if, or when, the guards in the fort might discover the covert group's hiding place.
At first, she looks to the ifrit, so soft and unprotected, it would be a perfect meal. As Tkaara begins to climb from her resting place, Etna looks up at the former barrister. Seeing and recognize the sorceress as her companion, Tkaara pauses a moment, just long enough to recall the cakes in her briefcase. Quickly grabbing the case from where it was resting next to her, Tkaara rips into one of the carefully packaged cakes and consumes it in not more than two or three bites. The unnatural food quickly satiates her immediate hunger, but still does not eliminate the constant desire to eat.
Having finished, Tkaara looks once more at Etna and the others.
What time is it? We have work to do. I cannot wait to try . . . kill the priest and paladin this day. Then, we shall open the gates and the blood of this land shall flow freely.
It does not take a trained ear to realize that the word "blood" was said with hardly constrained desire by the barrister.
Will:
[ooc]My vote is to check the chambers of the four former captains and then move from there to checking the storage area and mess hall, as well as eliminating any guards by the front gate (8a, 10, 11, 12, 13). Once they are cleared, we go across the hall and hopefully find the barracks with many tired/sick guards. I would love to eliminate them, but really it is important to get from them to the 14-17 rooms which appear to be where clerics and other clergy would be housed. If the cleric is not in these rooms, we can go through the trapdoor into the chapel, although this we might want to hold off on as I recall that there are some type of celestials in the chapel.
The other option is to completely skip the barracks and clergy, and instead take the trapdoor from 10 to 31 to get directly into the main keep. Then, we move up the stairs eliminating any guards. When we get to the mage's chambers, we can quickly search to see if there is anything that Etna could use there. Then, we proceed up and hopefully find the paladin resting in his chambers. It is unlikely that he will be alone and asleep, but we can always hope. Once we remove the paladin, it should be easy to destroy the ballista. Then, it is down and head for the gatehouse. We will need to also somehow disable the main gate, not sure how we are going to do that.
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RETCON
When Etna places her hands on Tkaara's shoulders, she can easily feel every bone in the barrister's shoulders, bones barely covered by flesh and intertwined with knotted muscle. However, it is not the bony shoulders that cause the ifrit concern, rather it is the fact that the barrister is cold. Very very cold. Even in the warm inn where one would expect to quickly warm from the chilly night air, Tkaara remains ice cold. In fact, Etna has the erie feeling that if she had touched Tkaara on some portion of her body not covered by the remnants of her burial garb, the sorceress believes that her life force might have been frozen to become just as shriveled and cold as the barrister's flesh.
When Etna uses her cantrip to clean some of the filth from Tkaara, the barrister looks down at herself.
Strange how getting covered with a little dirt eliminates the affliction of having to stay clean and proper. How much time I used to spend prepping and cleaning. But, now I do not feel the need. For it is not looking pretty that soothes the soul. No, it is food. Fresh warm food.
With that, she looks down at the corpses of the other slain dwarves.
There will be time enough to eat. Tomorrow will bring another night, and with it lots of opportunities to find fresh food.
End of gratuitous retcon
"Waxing a little poetic, I see," Erevan remarks, his spear never far from his grasp. The hooded man is smiling as he looks at the fledgling vampire. "A beast inside a man, one with the blood of devils and one with the fire of elementals, and now an undead," he muses with a sigh. "My friends, you make me feel so... ordinary."
Stepping out of the armoury, you walk past the series of rooms which held the (now sadly late) captains of Balentyne and into the main corridor. There are a number of guards there, but they don't pay you much attention: they are supporting their ill comrades and dragging them toward either the garderobe or the priest's quarters. It appears that there has been an outbreak of something extremely virulent. With their efforts focussed elsewhere, they don't inspect your uniformed disguises in any detail.
Walking purposefully down the main corridor, you enter the kitchen, which Felrin and Etna had earlier identified as having a serving hatch leading up to the main hall of the keep. The kitchens are deserted, and even the fire which normally burns fiercely here has gone out. You climb up the ladder into the keep, finding yourselves in an alcove.
Walking out of the alcove, you enter the main hall - but things have changed significantly from the last time Etna and Felrin were here. All the tables have been pushed to the far wall, and are strewn with papers and maps, which are being actively reviewed by a man who can be none other than Lord Thomas Havelyn; and a couple of his assistants. Lord Havelyn looks up as you enter and his bearded face and keen eyes see everything.
Your disguises are no use here and now: the only soldiers you have seen up close and personal are those you have killed, and perhaps a few that Felrin and Etna have interacted with in their guise as servants. Lord Thomas Havelyn knows every member of this fort personally; he sees at once who - and what - you really are.
"You." The voice is quiet, but it carries across the hall. Turning to his two orderlies, he commands them "Fetch Father Donnagin. Now!" The two subalterns jump, and scurry out of the double doors of the keep.
Time seems to slow down. Lord Havelyn is a mighty commander of men, a true protector of Talingarde, as was his father before him, and his father before that. His family has more battle honours than can be conveniently listed; in addition to that, they have accumulated heirlooms, little magical prizes that they have stored away over the years for use in desperate times. Truly, today is one such time. Reaching to his belt, Lord Havelyn plucks out what appears to be a small hourglass; he casts it to the floor, where it shatters and glitters, the sand seeming to hang in the air...
...
..
.
In less than the time it takes to blink, the situation has changed dramatically. Lord Havelyn is still present, still alone; but he has grown, standing perhaps 12 feet tall, his gilded plate mail now looking even more magnificent. The great blade of his sword shines like a torch, with a pure white fire. He points it at you. "Your actions imperil your lives and your very souls. Surrender now - lest you fall completely from the path of redemption."
Etna furrows her brow when her eyes meet the paladin's, feeling an unpleasant sensation crawling under her skin: before she can even even react, however, the Paladin shatters the hourglass and grows more imposing.
"I don't think we even have to say it, but we can't accept your offer." Etna replies to the paladin "And I know fully well of the consequences of what I'm doing: however, I have an higher purpose to fulfill. Death and eternal torment are secondary concerns."
Still staring in the paladin's eyes, the ifrit smiles when one of her companions makes his/her wish: without words or gestures, Etna's eyes glow briefly of a bright yellow, and a faint smell of sulfur fills the air.
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Seeing the paladin, Tkaara can almost sense his power, but more importantly, she can smell the sweetness of the blood in his veins.
This will be a meal without compare.
However, the paladins' sudden actions and growth quickly shake her out of her dreams of her next meal.
Soul? Redemption? You should have spent more time in school, that would have taught you that the Forsaken have already been deemed beyond redemption.
With that Tkaara raises her hand and seems to pull the shadow from the corners of the room, under tables and behind bookshelves. The shadows gather around her hand in a swirl of pitch black. Tkaara then touches her shield causing the blackness to erupt in a globe about her.
Cast Darkness on her shield.
Move to F7 (should keep all the companions in the globe of darkness).
Felrin's body begins to contort, his shoulders dropping and his arms lengthening, his spine extending into a ridged tail. His already claw-like fingers extend into truly reptilian claws, and his feet do the same - the long claws scratching the stone of the floor as he moves toward Lord Havelyn. Felrin's foul-smelling troglodyte form lays a hand on its chest as it crosses the room, saying in a sibilant voice, "Great things await my soul, and greater still when I cast yours down!"
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As soon as they enter the main hall and Erevan sees Lord Havelyn, the hooded man does not take his eyes off of him as he gets ready for the inevitable conflict. And just as the paladin makes his preparations by sending his subordinates to find assistance, so too does his opposite, though in a different way.
Erevan focuses inward, reaching for that power he has called on before. And it answers in a whispering sibilant voice. His own shadow grows darker, and then something rises from within it. The silhouette, black as ink, black as the starless sky, has a humanoid shape, but it is entirely featureless. Once fully materialized, if it can be called that, it stands as tall as the golden-eyed man and appears to move to embrace him, one black arm reaching forward, its equally black hand grasping the man's spear as if to lend support to his own grip. It seems to lean in and whisper something to his ear for a brief moment before being drawn into the weapon, granting it its power. Almost nothing remains of the shadow then, except for wisps and tendrils of blackness wrapped around both the spear's shaft and the hand that wields it. As for the weapon itself, it has grown darker, as if drinking in what light surrounds it while giving off a light of its own at the same time, gray and cold and unholy. And around the blade flames of shadowstuff dance, eager and hungry.
And then time crawls to a halt. And the next time it resumes, the Lord in front of them has grown large and splendid. Erevan cannot help but feel small and wretched in his presence, but only for the moment. Because the power he has is still there, giving, though he is sure it does not do so freely. Still, like before when they faced the late Captain Odenkirk, it and the shadows still remaining in the room serve him and his companions, expanding and partially enveloping them as they add to their power and prowess.
Lord Havelyn watches as Felrin approaches him. "I know not what manner of thing or beast you be, but I commend your soul to Mitra." With that, he steps toward him, his glowing sword flashing in its own light.
INITIATIVE
Tkaara
Etna
Ottakar
Havelyn
Felrin
Erevan
The ifrit sighs as the tiefling charges toward the Paladin, putting himself in danger.
"Don't underestimate him, Felrin!" the fire-haired woman says, conjuring a puddle of slippery substance under the paladin's feet while she steps closer.
Good question on the Grease, I'll have a look. You can't 5ft step in difficult terrain, but I need to check whether Grease creates difficult terrain. If it just halves movement, I think that a 5ft step is still possible; but if you can find a ruling, let me know!
And I looked around about Grease myself: it isn't considered difficult terrain, but there's the halving of movement of a 5 foot step that I mentioned before, but I don't know if that works myself.
Really, I'm just hoping that he fails his Acrobatic check. :P
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I don't see any reference to the [url=http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/d/darknessDarkness[/url]. Felrin is within the 20' radius of the darkness that Tkaara cast. Thus, there are two issues with Lord Havelyn's actions.
1) Can he even see Felrin to make the 5' step? Darkness decreases the light level by 1 step. Thus, unless it was daylight/bright light, which means that Tkaara is glowing like a torch, literally, then it is either dim light, if formerly normal, or darkness, if formerly dim. Furthermore, normal lights do not affect the area of darkness. This is another oddly worded spell as to how nonmagical light affects the spell if the non-magical source was already in effect, but I assume that it should be either dim, or hopefully darkness, within the area.
2) Depending upon whether it is dim or darkness, there is either a 20% or 50% miss chance unless Lord Havelyn has darkvision or some other means of seeing in the dark.
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Round 2
Knowing that this is the key defender for the fort, Tkaara manages to overcome her desire to sample the fine red that the paladin carries, and instead steps slightly forward, drawing a small scroll from her pouch as she does. Looking down at the scroll, she reads to divine words contained thereon and then waits for Erevan to pass her so that she can grant him the power contained in the magic.
5-foot step to G7.
Move: Draw scroll of bull's strength
Standard: Ready action to cast Bull's Strength when Erevan moves within 5' of Tkaara.
Dark knight, the powers of the deep will grant you strength when you pass me.
Lord Havelyn barely even blinks as the floor underneath him becomes slick with grease, and - although he has to move carefully - he is able to walk across the surface to reach Felrin. Alas for him, that the darkness conjured by Tkaara is just enough to throw off his aim; he misses Felrin.
Ottakar sneers as their "fearless leader" stupidly rushes forth to confront the obviously prepared paladin. Always nice to have a patsy to keep the enemy busy while those with brains prepare for the real fight.
Drinking another extract, he skulks within the magical darkness, trying to find a position from which he might find tactical advantage. As he moves, his body begins to grow...
Knowing he must keep moving so Havelyn does not know where he is, Felrin takes a quick step closer to the paladin, calling on Asmodeus to empower his toothy maw as he moves. Felrin strikes out with his claws but is unable to penetrate his opponent’s heavy armor – but his reptilian head darts in at and unguarded moment and takes a vicious bite out of Havelyn’s neck!
As Erevan moves forward without uttering a word to their foe, feeling Tkaara's unusually cold touch strengthening him, he focuses on Lord Havelyn, and his golden eyes once again turn into orbs of blackness, though it lasts for but a moment. Yet it is enough, as he can feel his strength and his prowess bolstered againt this enemy, this paragon of all that is good and just, this... antithesis of his. Remaining within the vampire's spell of darkness, he closes in and thrusts his spear forward, yet the strike appears weak, unbalanced. But his attack is not over yet, as something -perhaps the shadow within his weapon, perhaps something else, something more than a mere shade- grants him speed that is beyond human, beyond mortal even. And just as quickly as his spear was thrust forward, it is with the same speed and agility that it is pulled back before another quick strike follows, this one not only more accurate, but more powerful as well.
Lord Havelyn is clearly badly hurt; but combat is far from over.
You hear it first as a faint strain of music, rising, falling but growing ever louder. Then, from out of nowhere, light and song appear in the middle of the hall; alive, vibrant, holy light, banishing Tkaara's darkness. They appear as a swarm of glowing lights, shimmering like fireflies. In a musical voice, the thing cries "Lord! Despair not! The night shall fail!"
Erevan is strangely awed by its holiness and majesty; the rest of you are unaffected, except that you are illuminated by its aura. Lord Havelyn blinks as he suddenly sees each of you; his eyes narrow.
Etna clicks her tongue when the lantern archon appears: ignoring them didn't help, apparently...
Still shrouded in darkness, the ifrit moves deeper into it and starts chanting a spell. A moment later, a shower of sparks arcs out from the darkness, filling the room with the smell of sulfur, before coalescing into a sphere of flame mid-air and homing toward Havelyn.
Snarling in frustration at the sudden luminescence, the Beast, it's mind still faster than those of most men despite the distraction of more feral urges, assesses the changed battlefield: lost is the cover of darkness, and the strange, glowing being, whatever it is, is probably extremely dangerous. The paladin, however, is already wounded, and tactically it would make the most sense to eliminate him from the fight quickly, then focus on the newcomer. So decided, he dispenses with finesse and simply wades in with tooth and claw. Like Felrin, his claws do nothing more than scrape across the knight's fine armor, but his lupine maw finds purchase enough to tear flesh...
The paladin barely even blinks as the fire descends on him; it doesn't so much as singe his beard.
Ottakar's teeth, on the other hand...
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Round 3
Snarling in a rather inhuman manner at the swirling light creature, Tkaara attempts to recall the soothing dark that this creature dispelled. Once more she reaches up her hand and pulls the shadows from the corners of the room causing them to grow into a cloud of darkness surrounding her shield.
As the darkness grows, she calls out:
The darkness of night always triumphs over the dying sun.
Cast Defensively: vs DC19
Standard: Cast Darkness
Knowledge(planes): <-- any clue what this is?
Tkaara's magic is intuitive, gifted from a variety of sources; she does not fully understand how it works, much less the complicated interplay between the magic of light and darkness. Her attempt to banish the light is instinctive; and it achieves nothing. Had there been a wizard still in the group to explain such matters, she might have acted differently (although it's possible that said wizard would have been preoccupied in explaining instead that no, the blood in her veins is her own blood, and Tkaara doesn't get a claim on it just because the barrister happens to be hungry).
In reply to Tkaara's jibe, the musical voice (voices? It's kind of hard to tell) reply "Darkness can be banished by the light of a single candle!"
Condemned by Etna's spell to repeat his actions of the previous round, the paladin nimbly steps away from the grease, able to do so without falling over. However, he is limited to a single attack - although this is enough to take down Felrin: the great, shining blade cuts through him with righteous wrath. It is indeed a smite well smote (although the Inquisitor may not appreciate it as such). Satisfied, Havelyn heals himself of some of the damage he has suffered.
But all is not yet finished. The door to the great hall is opened hastily, and closed just as hastily, but not before a newcomer enters (pausing only to give instructions you can't hear to a figure outside whom you can't see). Felrin and Etna recognise him as Father Donnagin, the chaplain. He is by nature and inclination a kindly soul, with a portly figure and a genial expression. That expression is gone, replaced by a fierce and grim resolve. "So." It is the only word he speaks. Carefully staying away from combat, he places himself behind the paladin, healing him with a single word.
The paladin's movement away from them provokes attacks from Erevan, Felrin and Ottakar, but none of them is able to penetrate Havelyn's armour.
Still silent, Erevan affords a look at the celestial creature, searching his mind for anything of use pertaining to the shining being. And then Felrin falls and the priest enters, making this fight even more difficult than it already was. Sighing softly and reasoning that the paladin is the greatest threat -perhaps rightfully so, perhaps not- he advances on the man and brings his spear to bear once more, almost as if it is in retaliation for the strike that felled the tiefling. The shadow-enveloped blade bites deep indeed as it almost too easily pierces his enemy's abdomen, its flames burning the wound. The pain the holy knight must be feeling brings a thin little smile to the hooded man's lips. He just hopes it is not short-lived.
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Erevan's villainy is too much for the forces of light: the burning spear plunges through Lord Thomas Havelyn's plate armour, piercing muscle, sinew and arteries alike. The weapon seems almost to take on a life of its own in Erevan's hands, greedily seeking out the paladin's heart and extinguishing his life force.
The flames running along the haft of the spear suddenly increase in intensity and deepen in colour, with an intense smell of sulphur and pitch. Lord Havelyn barely has time to widen his eyes in shock before he is consumed in hellfire, his body shrivelling and charring, bones turning to ash before you. In an instant, all that is left is a suit of armour, which falls to the floor with a dull thud.
But the corruption is not yet complete. The flames of hellfire scour the surface of the metal, burning away the silver sheen and the symbols of Mitra and the Knights of the Alerion. The plates of metal buckle and writhe, becoming porous. In a matter of moments, all that is left is a smouldering pile of blackened metal.
Father Donnagin gasps in horror as he watches, transfixed; the lights of the strange archon dim momentarily, before brightening further; the motes of flame within whirling and spinning in a dizzying intensity...
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Round 4
An instant of concern appears to flash across the undead barrister's eyes, or perhaps it was a fleeting instant of the former living woman, as Lord Havelyn's blade rips across Felrin's body dropping him to the ground. As the blood spills out, Tkaara's eyes light up and it is all she can do to avoid sampling the fare. However, this changes a second later as Erevan's spear punctures through the paladin's armor, clearly ending his life. The thought of tasting the holy knight's blood immediately brings elation to the barrister, elation that turns to despair and then anger as the unholy fire torches Lord Havelyn's body leaving nothing more than a smoking husk without a drop of blood to be found.
With a growl and a hiss, Tkaara ignores the creature of flashy lights, and while watching the newly arrived cleric with a keen eye, moves over to Felrin where she attempts to call on the power she previously had, not knowing whether her new state has altered this as well.
When she reaches Felrin's side, she raises her hand as you have seen her do in the past. Immediately a swirl of pinpricks of light begins to form around the hand, but this time there are far more motes of darkness as well, as though some of the light is sucking the light in rather than spreading it out. She then reaches out and when her hand is perhaps a foot from the fallen warrior, the swirl of light and darkness leaps off and coalesces into his wounds, stopping the bleeding and mending the wounds a small amount.
Move adjacent to Felrin, preferably to where she will not draw an AoO.
--> This will probably draw an AoO for moving.
Cast Defensively, if necessary:
Cast Cure Light Wounds on Felrin:
Felrin lies still, failing to stabilise from the deadly injury inflicted by the (late) Lord Havelyn.
The whirling lights within the being show no sign of diminishing their speed; rather they increase in intensity, as the archons continue to spin around, careening across the floor. Ignoring Felrin in his plight, they slam into Erevan, Tkaara and Etna. As they approach Etna, she feels the same sense of awe and dread that afflicted Erevan; this is doubtless multiplied when she finds herself (along with Tkaara) bodily picked up and spun around, helplessly, in a vortex of lights and song. The music is holy, and thus unpleasant and cacophonous to both of them. Tkaara finds herself seared by the light, in addition to being assailed by the singing of the archons. Erevan somehow resists stolidly, impervious to their assault in his victory over the paladin.
Across the room, Father Donnagin's green-flecked eyes meet Erevan's own. "I'm thinking that you'd be the Forsaken of Mitra that escaped from Branderscar, would that be right, now? Which would make you, what - Master Cale? And your ferocious companion there - the formerly esteemed Dr Wilken? Would I be right in thinking that, so?" His accent has the faint burr associated with the Western provinces of Talingarde; a near-lifetime of serving on the Watch Wall has failed to eliminate it completely.
The Beast growls at the antipaladin, "Take the fool's holy symbol from him. Mitrans always cry when you take their holy symbol away. I'll deal with this thing."[b] That said, he tears into the amalgamous creature before him, vaguely trying to not hit his entrapped comrades.
[b]
Just before he dies, the noble Lord Havelyn brings his mighty blade down on his foe in what he is certain is a killing stroke, aimed as it is at the juncture of neck and shoulder, certain to sever vital blood vessels. To the paladin's surprise and dismay, however, the blade only begins to cut the strange reptilian skin before its progress is stopped! Some strange mass of bone has formed within Felrin, perhaps a collarbone grown enormously, perhaps something far harder to explain - in any case, the paladin's blade bounces off it, leaving Felrin wounded but standing, watching the Mitran die.
"True evil is far harder to root out than your kind understand,” Felrin says, just before Havelyn is consumed by flame. He then turns to the ball of light standing by him and attacks it with claws and teeth!
Since Felrin is still standing, the archon whirlwind picks him up too, leaving him spinning helplessly along with Etna and Tkaara.
"Perhaps," the hooded man replies simply, at least acknowledging the cleric and his question.
Nodding to the Beast that is the Doctor, Erevan moves forward, his intent seemingly clear as his focus -in more ways than one- now shifts from what little remains of the paladin to the newly arrived priest. No words, no grand declarations of the triumph of evil over good or of darkness over the light. Instead, silently as before, the golden-eyed man closes what short distance exists between himself and the cleric. However, and perhaps to Father Donnagin's surprise, it is not his spear that shoots forward, but his left hand, the target not the man but the divine symbol hanging from around his neck.
Buffeted and damaged by the swirling ball of light that has caught him up, Felrin calls on Asmodeus to knit his wounds. At the same moment, he curls into a tight ball and is carried closer to the edge of the whirlwind, where he’s able to spring free of it!
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Etna smiles as the paladin is turned to ash by the gout of hellfire sprouting from Erevan's spear. The ifrit's smile, however, is short lived, as the vortex of hair slams into her, breaking her bones and picking her up in the swirling lights. Barely conscious, the fire-haired woman tries to tug herself out of the vortex: she had thought that the hit had hurt her, but the lights were burning her skin like Blackerly's brand in Brandescar, the one that seared the runic F on her forearm. When the woman realizes that her attempts at escaping were futile, she roars a series of frustrated, fast-paced syllabes, as her eyes grow a bright yellow, even brighter than usual: much more unusual, considering that the ifrit is still in her Jenna disguise.
With a final scream, Etna throws herself out of the vortex, landing unceremoniously on the ground. After coughing blood a couple of seconds, she desperately tries to drag herself away from the Archon, slamming her fist in frustration on the ground as she crawls on her knees. Without uttering a word, she points first to the orb of flame she created, and then at Donnagin, hoping that the molten sphere would be more useful this time.
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Tkaara cackles when the whirlwind grab her, or perhaps it is a laugh, either way it is something that may haunt your nightmares for months.
Is this the best you can do?
With that, the formerly frail barrister twirls around. Did she just do a pirouette? And then nimbly steps out of the whirlwind with a preternatural agility as though mocking the celestial being.
The real question is, how do you taste?
She looks over at the cleric smiling, her slightly elongated canines clearly showing.
Thank you for the memorial. My companions tell me it was an excellent service.
Reflex:
Perception:
As Felrin bursts free of the whirlwind, he lands facing Father Donnagin, ready to tear the throat out of the cursed Mitran!
[ooc]It's not clear to me where Erevan moved in round 4, to grab at the holy symbol. If Felrin needs to be shifted a bit, that's fine - my goal is to be in position to threaten the priest if he casts or moves.