The companions successfully make their way through the streets of Magnimar to the Frumpy Duchess. Arimar, followed by Gwen and Malgrim make their way to the familiar common room. It looks like most common rooms, a large hearth with crackling embers glowing sunset orange, a fine layer of sawdust on the floor, and better than average serving wenches. Though invisible, Benaiah is disappointed that they seem to be covered up more than usually, perhaps in homage to the namesake of their place of employment.
As Arimar inquires about his rooms, the barkeep nods in a familiar affirmative.
"Ale. Good choice. Out of Longshanks, but I do have Boggy Creek Ale if it interests you. More of a brown ale, less hoppy than a traditional pale ale." The barkeep waits expectantly for Arimar's answer.
"And the room is ready. Just like you requested. I will make sure to extend the legendary service of the Frumpy Duchess to your friends." he ends with a smile.
Always slightly uncomfortable in the midst of so many strangers, Malgrim moves to the rooms the party will be staying to stay away from the crush of people, mentally reviewing the path that took him to the room. Once again matters were perilously close to confrontation, almost soley because of him. The Hellknights appeared focused if a bit crazed, however.
After setting down his meager possessions, he secures the window and looks for potential avenues of entry.
"Boggy Creek Ale will do just fine," Arimar smiles, remembering the smoother taste of the brown ale from his days in Riddleport, "Just leave out the Grippli twister." Arimar eyes the jar of fresh dragonflies kept behind the bar for the strange frog-people. The last thing he wanted was to be picking insect legs from his teeth while trying to concentrate on preparations.
Ale in hand, the paladin heads upstairs. [smaller]"Now, who picked up the alarm scrolls?" he whispers over the message. It would be good to have Gwen begin casting those when she got in.
That done, Arimar analyses the sleep schedule to figure out how to set out the watch order, and turns over the room for anything amiss. He first detects evil in all directions, covering the room and a 60ft radius sphere all around, above and below it. He then picks over every square inch of the place.
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Benaiah finally gets into the room and releases the spell of invisibility with an unprompted sigh of relief. He looks around briefly, wondering where his companionship is, and when it will show up before getting down to business and helping Arimar with the room sweep.
Once the sweep is complete, Benaiah pulls the small journal that has caused all of this angst and consternation and hands it over to the bookkeeper. "Best if you and I take a quick nap before we stay up all night. Keep this safe, and we'll keep you safe. You've got some work ahead of you and come hell or high water, we will make sure you can finally do it uninterrupted. There has got to be something good in that book to have caused this much commotion in the city."
Checking his powder box once again, he laments a few of the missing portions. It is then that he realizes he is still in his mutated form, courtesy of the brush with the hellknights, and suddenly the terrified looks of the bookkeeper make more sense.
"Oh get over it. A little chemical augmentation never hurt anyone." he grouses at the spineless man. "Guess I'm not taking a nap after all. Need to cut this mutagen again, just in case."
Malgrim lets a little bit of the tension he'd been holding flow from his body as the rest of his companions arrive at the inn safely. With the practiced ease of past-lifetime of a thief he does his part in scrutinizing the room that will be "home" for the next few days, although he conciously doesn't put too much thought into the origin of a few lingering stains in the otherwise well cleaned room.
Of most interest he investigates the window, trying to determine how to secure the potential point of ingress.
With the room initially secured, Malgrim turns to the party. "I had expected that whatever interest that the documents had created would have faded by know. The fact that there is still a visible presence of hellknights actively searching is troublesome; I'm sure a report will be filed of the Invisibility if nothing else, which will draw attention to our area." The hobgoblin threads his fingers together, making a small cracking noise as he limbers his fingers. "As it stands, though, our attempts at security through obscurity may be undone. This is far from my field, but is there anything we might do to reduce the likelihood of being likely targets if a Hellknight patrol begins to ask 'Is there anyone staying here acting out of the ordinary?'"
It isn't paranoia if someone is out to get you.
As an afterhtought, he gestures to the window. "I can create a minor curtain of earth on our side of the window; it could provide a few more seconds of preparation should a breach be attempted."
As the companions make their way to the second floor of the Frumpy Duchess, they settle in and breath an audible sigh of relief. Benaiah and the bookkeeper come out of invisibility. Oscar Wallaces' hands jitter uncontrollable and the Companions can spot a wet trail down his leg.
"That .... was .... horrible. I want no part of that again. The whole time I thought some street urchin would bump into me and .... I can't even imagine." Walking over to Arimar, he grabs the frosted glass and begins to pour copious amounts of ale into his opened mouth.
Belching loudly, he hands back the paltry remains of the beverage before belching loudly. "I am going to need to clean up, and a new pair of breeches. If it is all the same to you, I'd like to get started right away. The faster I can figure this out, the faster I can get the hell out of here."
When he returns, he begins to take out ink, quill, and, and a large stack of bound paper. He opens a pouch of colored beans attached through a drilled hole with a thin metal string. He begins to scribble furiously while clicking beads back and forth like Andorran lawn ball.
While Ocsar tries to rid himself of his urine smell, Gwen begins her magical preparations.
Malgrim moves over to the curtained two by two leaded glass window. Stained with a cloudy film, he covers the window pane with a small minor curtain of earth.
"I am deeply troubled by the Hellknights' involvement in these matters full stop," Arimar paces the space in front of the curtain where Oscar Wallace is getting changed, "It really does point to a deeper conspiracy - a Chelaxian one perhaps - behind the initial and continued decommissioning of the Fountain of Bethesda. I worry that malicious intent has caused it to cease functioning, and that we are going up against powers far exceed even those that we and Mistress Lanvi have at our disposal."
The paladin looks around the curtain at the half-naked, piss-stained book keeper. "It would be nice if this book contained some form of hope for us on that front. Even some political ammunition to use against those arrayed against us would be welcome at this point. Best get on with it Mister Wallace," Arimar frowns at the man, "You have a job to do and no doubt have been well compensated for it. Even if not, an agreement is an agreement. It may help you to know that much good will come from our endeavors. If that does not help you, then know that we were perfectly able to dismantle that group of Hellknights we found, should it have come to combat. If you feared them, then you should fear us all the more should you fail in your duty or desert your post here."
Somehow, to Arimar's ears, the convictions of the righteous seem even more intimidating than the threats of the wicked. Perhaps that is how the Hellknights operate so effectively, he muses, I will have to ensure that I do not become like them in my enthusiasm to serve Sarenrae.
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"Agree." Benaiah offers, not looking up from his careful work, mixing different reagents together on the strange cookplate. "The hellknights cornered us in an alley on our way to the temple, harried us when we tried to get Oscar here out of the city, and picked us out of a crowded street on our way here. I get the feeling that despite our disguises at the party, somehow someone has a divine bead on us. In fact, I have a gut feeling a band of Hellknights will come to crash this party at some point."
Benaiah grimaces as he realizes the bookkeeper heard his claims, and immediately regrets voicing his prediction out loud. "Arimar is right though. Those chumps would have been no match for us," he offers with a playful smile, flexing his large arm muscles, hoping to deflect some of the tension.
"Like the golden boy said, the sooner you are done, the sooner you can put this behind you. With any luck, before anyone shows up." Benaiah turns back to his work in front of him. "Not a bad question Malgrim. I suppose maybe the best thing to do is not act out of the ordinary." Benaiah flashes a playful wink. "Seriously though. Between getting drinks from the bar occasionally and relaxing with a few fine ladies for company, we can't look that out of place, right?" he finishes with a raised eyebrow.
"Ahem. Ah, sorry Gwen." he offers, sheepishly looking away from the woman and once again back to his alchemy.
"No problem, Benaiah," the halfling says, waving her hand backward over her shoulder in the direction of the clustered men. "You boys do what you have to do. Just keep me out of it, and don't wake me up."
Unslinging the case from her back, Gwendolyn then opens it and draws up her violin. She gently drags the reed across the strings, creating a very quiet and somber note, before setting the instrument beside the bed on an adjacent table. After a moment of drawing back the blankets and covers atop the bed, she reaching back to the violin and adjusts it slightly, before crawling fully on to the mattress to lay down.
"Guess I'm sleeping first," she says, faking an exaggerated yawn. "That means keep it down over there." The halfling laughs as she says this last bit, speaking to the men clustered on the west side of the room near the spare bed.
"And you boys are right... those hellknights have found us too easily and too often. I hope that do not find us here, and that our countermeasures are adequate the check them, but for all our planning I still fear we will see them shortly."
"Oh, and Mister Bookworm", she adds to the untouchable Oscar Wallace as she draws the covers up to her chin. "Work swiftly. If you can finish before the hellknights turn up again, we'll be in a much better position, and you might just be far from here. I don't want to see your nose out of that book..." She snorts a little laugh before falling quiet and trying to sleep.
His appendages still moving spider like across the pages, Oscar gives Gwen a 'thumbs up' without looking up from him work. A growing mound of crumpled up wads of paper are growing volcano like under him, and various signs and cyphers are being tacked to the wall as if a child was decorating.
He turns to the group, "This is not going as well as I hoped, but I will get it. In the meantime, can one of you grab me some more of that ale, and tell that cheap barkeep to save the foam for when we wants to shave. I want ale to the brim."
With that he tuns back to his beaded contraception, sliding colored beads back and forth.
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Benaiah looks at Arimar and Malgrim, still in the room while Gwen gets her rest for the overnight watch.
Subconsciously patting the snuff box on his hip, Benaiah shrugs his shoulders, thinking that a drink would go down well right now. Not to much of course though, can't have the senses dulled.
Or perhaps dulling the senses is just what this long guard duty would require.
Not yet. Still too soon after that brush with the hellknights again.
Benaiah trudges downstairs, his vague paranoia causing him to scan the room quickly for any obvious threats, or suspicious characters.
"Two pints of Stoneclimb Stout barkeep. Actually make it four. The company is good and the conversation is better, don't want to have to make too many trips back down if we don't have to." Benaiah leans on the bartop with his elbow, while one foot is cocked sideways, toe to the floor. He rolls a gold piece in his fingers while he waits for the pints to be filled. "Here, make sure if you see me coming down again you've got another four waiting for me." he flashes a wink and moves to take the drinks back upstairs.
The barkeep nods and flashes Benaiah a smile. "You need some food to go along with those brews?" he queries as he turns the spigot on a sideways keg filling pints.
As Benaiah scans the common room, he noticed that little has changed. Some patrons have left, a few have arrived, but none seem to stand out in any way to the large Chelixian.
Balancing the tray with the aplomb of a menagerie worker, he makes his way back up stairs and into the room.
Oscar takes the drink with barely a nod, quickly draining half the pint before emitting a manselinue belch.
The rest of the day passes relatively uneventfully,
The next morning Oscar seats himself once again at his small writing desk. The pile of papers mount, the clicks of his counting apparatus continue to annoy, and the hours stretch on.
As midday approaches all of the away Companions can hear a message loud and clear in their minds.
Dutchess believed compromised. Expect an attack at any moment. Lani in danger. Protect Oscar at all costs. May the Dawnflower preserve you.
"For the love of all that is holy," Arimar curses, "Is there anywhere in this entire f%@&ing city that we can just hide for a while? Okay, positions everyone. Oscar, keep working. Let's keep together and let nothing pass. Benaiah and I can take the front line, Malgrim and Gwen keep to the back with ranged support next to Oscar."
Arimar arranges Oscar's desk so that it is in the windowless corner and puts himself between the desk and the door, allowing Benaiah to cover the window area. Falchion out, he mutters some prayers while waiting for the inevitable.
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Benaiah's heart begins to race, though he doesn't entirely understand why this particular impending conflict would create a reaction that seems different from the hundreds of other fights he has been in throughout his life. He reaches for his snuffbox and flings open the lid. Without a second thought, he pops open the small packet containing the re-created mutagen.
The next few seconds are a surreal vision to behold. Benaiah takes a long breath in through his nose, extending out the inhale. As his lungs fill, his body morphs and grows. His fingers extend, narrowing into sharp points at each end. His ears elongate and fold away from his head, creating an almost bat-like visage. His jaw begins to protrude slightly, leaving a slight underbite that displays rows of jagged teeth that weren't there a moment ago. His arms and legs bulge, the muscles in his body straining against the straps and buckles of his armor.
"At least they were smart enough to show up during the day." he says with a grin and a chuckle.
Not wasting any more time, and with surprising dexterity despite his clawed hands, he begins lifting more pouches to his face, snorting with an awkward efficiency.
The sudden but inevitable impending attack feels oddly... comforting... as if disastrous upending of the party's plans almost brings a sense of normalcy to his life. At least this way we won't have to listen to Benaiah's company another two days...
"It seems as we feared. Hellknights?"Rolling to his feet, the hobgoblin wastes no time in adopting his skin of stone; grey granite hardens around him as he advances to the librarian and shoves a potion of Invisibility at him. "Take this, and drink it when the room is breached."
"Keep working. Are you f+@%ing nuts?!" With that Oscar scoops the pile of papers, writing instruments, and counting devices off the table. Bending down into a crouch, he tips the tables over with a loud crash and barricades himself in the corner.
Grabbing the potion from the Hobgoblin Oscar nods his thanks. Malgrim can see the man's hands shaking violently and it appears he will need another new set of britches.
Arimar tsks at the cowardice shown by Oscar Wallace and concentrates on his falchion. He imbues it with a portion of Sarenrae's divine power with but a thought. Suddenly the already sharp edge becomes sharp enough to shave Oscar's scruffy face.
Quietly he also adds a prayer to protect his friend, "Protection from evil," he chants, targeting Benaiah.
"Let them come," he says confidently, activating his innate ability to detect evil and making ready to attack the first enemy to burst through the door.
The halfling sits on the edge of the bed and watches as the others prepare for an immanent attack. Reaching both hands up, she runs her fingers through her hair and sighs audibly.
How can they still be tracking us? she questions to herself, as her head sways involuntarily, ever so slightly side to side. We took every precaution we could think of, and yet, they seem to have found us without any difficulty. Were we doomed to be found no matter what?
Why can't they leave us alone... Gwendolyn now reaches out and grasps the violin perched near the bed, resting upon the side table. Again, as she had done before falling asleep, she drags the reed gently across the strings and releases a melancholy note into the air.
They won't leave us be... she thinks, abruptly stoping the motion of the reed, ceasing the note mid song. And now people may lose their lives...
The Companions, fretting over the frantic message from the Searenrite cleric, begin battle perpetrations. Benaiah begins snorting like a pig after truffles. Arimar unsheathes his enormous sword, while Malgrim reaches out to the familiar vibrations of the earth. Gwen pulls her violin out and prepares to strum a tune meant to inspire her friends.
The moments drag on.
Until they hear the sounds of numerous footfalls outside the door, much lighter than a human, and numbering in the hundreds. The alarm bells ring in their heads and they know the moment is at hand.
The door blows in a shower of splinters and the Companions can finally see their adversaries. Surprise crosses their faces as a hooded humanoid dressed in black stands before them, knives in hand, as a swarm of rodents roil over each other like waves on the seashore. Their pink tails wriggling behind them, their sharp teeth clicking together, their squeaky voices drowns out the scratches of their nailed feet over the worn wood flooring of the Frumpy Duchess. The swarm begins to scamper through the open door towards the companions.
The hooded man steps into the rat swarm. The rats scamper over each other, nip each other, all to move away from him. Pulling his hand back, he releases both knives in a smooth throwing motion right at Arimar, before pulling another set of knives and tossing them all unbelievably fast.
The knives, one after another, whistle through the air towards the paladin.
Two of the four loge into the Paladin, severely wounding him.
The rats press forward to attach the companions. As they near him, Arimar swings out at his nonevil foes.
The rats begin to claw and bite Arimar, Malgrim, and Gewn.
The damage is too much and the Paladin falls to the ground in a pool of his own blood.
[ooc]-- Resist acid 5, cold 5, electricity 5
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Benaiah sees the roiling mass burst through the door, and his friend drop in the initial flurry. His arms are bunched up in front of him, magically elongated. His maw distended, and his hands in the shape of long claws, with his skin a strange, reddish hue, Benaiah looks the part of a demon summoned from the lower planes.
His rage at the intrusion is no less pronounced. He opens his maw wide, loosing a pain-filled scream, throwing his giant strength at the pile of rats.
Somewhere inside his mind he knows how much these rats would burn well should he throw one of his bombs, but the hidden man inside his mind will not allow it just yet. Too long he has been held in check, and now it is time for him to be released.
He lunges forward, smashing his face into the pile and snapping his jaws down, slicing many rats clean in two, and bludgeoning several others to death. His hands rake into the mass following the bite, swiping dozens of the vile vermin against the walls of the room with each swipe.
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A swarm made up of Tiny creatures takes half damage from slashing and piercing weapons.
Weapons are classified according to the type of damage they deal: B for bludgeoning, P for piercing, or S for slashing. Some monsters may be resistant or immune to attacks from certain types of weapons.
Some weapons deal damage of multiple types. If a weapon causes two types of damage, the type it deals is not half one type and half another; all damage caused is of both types. Therefore, a creature would have to be immune to both types of damage to ignore any of the damage caused by such a weapon.
In other cases, a weapon can deal either of two types of damage. In a situation where the damage type is significant, the wielder can choose which type of damage to deal with such a weapon.
Before he can even think use his Sarenrae-given powers to heal himself, or charge to attack the knife thrower, Arimar hits the ground in a shower of blood. His holy armor provides some protection half of the man's shots still get through. Rats continue to gnaw at his flesh, but he registers it not as his body is no longer able muster the circulation required to send the appropriate messages to his unconscious mind.
"Not yet, you don't," grouses the goddess, "It is too soon."
The halfling cannot help but tremble in fear as the door explodes inward releasing a shower of splinters upon the companions. Wincing away from the blast, Gwendolyn turns slightly to hide her face as the debris falls all around. When next she looks up her eyes fall upon the hooded figure and the rolling, undulating carpet of rats that flood in around her feet.
"Hold on Arimar!" she calls, heaitsting for a moment more as she looks upon her fallen friend. She contemplates using her magics to heal the paladin, but resists the urge and instead resolves to bolster her standing companions.
With violin in hand, the halfling again drags the reed recklessly across the strings and instead of releasing a somber, low note the instrument screams shrilly. With fluttering fingers and flying hands, the song of Gwendolyn rises steady and strong, quickening in pace and tempo until it forms almost inaudibly with the din of the falling battle. The melody becomes barely perceived, as one with the background clatter, creating a mantra to inspire her friends to greatness and to slay the hooded man who injured Arimar.
Gwen places her chin in the chin box, and slowly draws the bow across the bridge emitting a beautiful, melodious sound. Juxtaposed to the bard's calmness is the inner rage of Benaiah. Now beasital in shape and demeanor, he bites, chomps, and claws the swarm of rats. Pink rat tails and inner organs fly about the room in a gory mess. The few that scamper out of the man's deathly attack melt into floor boards and run away, dispersing to never reform.
A lone rat, indistinguishable from the others, remains. It look up at the companions. Lifting one of its claws, it brings it back to the ground. Concentric rings of power radiate from the rat's claw to the ends of the room. The ground begins to shake so violently that the Companions have a difficult time retaining their footing.
Malgrim and Gwen tumble to the ground prone as Benaiah retains his footing.
The character is lying on the ground. A prone attacker has a –4 penalty on melee attack rolls and cannot use a ranged weapon (except for a crossbow). A prone defender gains a +4 bonus to Armor Class against ranged attacks, but takes a –4 penalty to AC against melee attacks.
Standing up is a move-equivalent action that provokes an attack of opportunity.
The rat scampers towards the cowering bookkeeper.
In the span of seconds, the situation went from bad to worse to catastrophic: literally knocking the hobgoblin off his feet. With his back to the floor, Malgrim doesn't even flinch as the dissipating swarm roils over him, the rodents mindlessly scratching at his stone eyes and extremities in their effort to escape.
From his disadvantaged position, he gets an eye level view of the growing pool of crimson expanding from his friend, the lifeblood spattered in the manic motions of the rats. Pragmatically, however, the... spellcaster? Druid? Rat closes on the man that this entire effort has been for.
With cracking of stone, Malgrim rises to his feet and makes a small movement towards the unconscious body of his companion. The metal of the ruined door, the dirt from years of tread, even the iron of Arimar's blood lance towards the hobgoblin, Burning him from within, before Malgrim stomps his own foot. A spiderweb of earthen brambles twist and writhe towards the rat, crushing and attempting to encase his foe!
Associated Blasts blizzard, cold, earth, ice, magma, metal, mud, sandstorm
Saving Throw: Reflex negates
Your kinetic blast surrounds your foes in elemental matter.
Whenever a blast with this infusion deals damage to a foe, that foe becomes entangled for 1 minute. The foe can remove this condition as a standard action with a successful Escape Artist or Strength check (with the same DC as for saves against your kinetic blast) or by dealing an amount of damage to the entangling matter equal to double your kineticist level (the matter has hardness 0).
If the foe was already entangled by this infusion and fails its save against a second instance of this infusion, the increased amount of elemental matter fuses to the ground, causing the foe to be rooted in place as though anchored to an immobile object.
'Learn a trade', my pa said. 'Kid is good with numbers', my ma said. And then she shows up with her cleave and her curves, and look and me now. Crouched in my own piss, waiting for a troop of Hellknights to burst in and stick a hot poker up my ass to make me spill my deepest, darkest secrets.
ANd who is here to protect me, a paladin, a raging addict, a hobgoblin, and, well, she is really pretty. Could spend a night or two folding that ...
in a shower of splinters the door explodes inward.
F&~* THIS!
Popping the stopper off the potion, the bookkeeper downs it in one long gulp before cowering as far as he can go in the corner.
The creature can detect opponents within 30 feet by sense of smell. If the opponent is upwind, the range increases to 60 feet; if downwind, it drops to 15 feet. Strong scents, such as smoke or rotting garbage, can be detected at twice the ranges noted above. Overpowering scents, such as skunk musk or troglodyte stench, can be detected at triple normal range.
When a creature detects a scent, the exact location of the source is not revealed—only its presence somewhere within range. The creature can take a move action to note the direction of the scent. When the creature is within 5 feet of the source, it pinpoints the source’s location.
Malgrim tries to encases the rat in elemental stone, inhibiting the rat from moving, but it is too fast and too nimble.
The hooded man moves closer to the room and draws his knives. Seeing the devastation the two companions have wrought on the swarm and then the rat, the hooded man flings two daggers quick as a flash at the hobgoblin.
Only one dagger finds it mark and fails to do a substantial amount to damage.
The halfling looks on with a peculiarly piqued interest as the rat-creature casts a spell, and before she knows it, Gwendolyn has fallen bodily to the floor. With a trrrible crash she hits the planks, her back smashing painfully while her head bounces once off the wooden floorboards. Her eyes go fuzzy for a moment as the room swirls once and revolves in a full circle, causing she to almost lose her grip on consciousness. The next moment however, the halfling has regained her composure and continues to activate the strings of the violin, and even from her position of the floor causes the instrument to scream and sing.
With a bit of a struggle, she stands and sees two friends clustered at the door, standing toe to toe with the hooded figure. Nearby she also sees Benaiah, and the towering man seems to searching for his next target. Sliding close, the halfling reaches out a hand for the briefest instant to cast a spell upon her friend.
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Blood courses through Benaiah's veins so fast and loud it sounds like a drumbeat that starts in his head and reverberates through his whole body. Somehow it is almost as if Gwen has tapped into that rhythm with her frantic, haunting music, amplifying each heart beat.
Gone are his thoughts of precise alchemical formulas, gone are his machinations of playing one house against another, and gone are the finer details of cryptography and solving this riddle of the well. All that is left is cold, calculated combat. The hooded man shows up again in the doorway, with enough deadly aim to take down the heavily armored Arimar. It is clear the rat is more than he seems to be, showing off his casting abilities.
If I can take out the knife wielder, should the rat man incapacitate me, Gwen and Malgrim should be able to hand him.
With a snarl, Benaiah launches across the room, skidding to a stop to tower over his fallen friend. The mutated man's long arms arc through the air, hoping to catch the knife thrower in the shoulder.
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As Gwen casts her magic on Benaiah, the beastial man moves forward to deliver a claw to the hooded figure. The figure grunts in pain as the claws dig in, popping links on the armored shirt underneath his cloak.
Meanwhile, the rat huddles further into the corner trying to put as much distance between it and the hobgoblin that hurled stone from the sky.
Arimar continues to unwillingly paint the floor with his own blood. Without knowing it, his newly healthy body attempts to heal his wounds.
Blood clots and arterial veins seal along Arimar's knife and nibble wounds. The man seems to breathe easier, but still offers little protection for the book keeper from his inert position upon the floor.
Malgrim glances for only the barest of a second to his fallen companion. Did he just move? Gritting his teeth, he draws a swirl solidifying dust around him, infusing his feet with the dirt beneath him. Once again he attempts to trap the rat in a cage of earthen brambles, smothering it.
As reminder for friend and foe alike he calmly states "Surrender. There is no need for death this day."
We need information we cannot obtain unless they are alive.
The Rat shakes its head as moe entangling stone envelops it.
Once again it is too nimble to get trapped by the hobgoblin's stone.
The hooden man steps back from the beastial man in front of him , pulls out a glass vial, and downs it in one gulp disappearing from sight.
None of you know where the hooded man is.
Hearing the call of the others, that their worthy adversary has dissapeared wholly from sight, the halfling abandons her plan to continue to strength and heal her allies. Up to this point, in the time she has spent with her companions, she had thought this was her role and most useful position within the group, to keep them strong and swinging, laying waste to their foes. With a smirk Gwendolyn realizes she can in this moment be more useful to the others.
Stepping quickly behind the towering form of Benaiah, she looks into the now empty hallway beyond their room.
"Where is he?!" she calls the question in a panic. "If you think he's near, tell me the last place you saw him..."
Gwen reaches her hand out and shouts a word brimming of latent magical power. From her arching fingers the spell takes for.
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"INVISIBLE MAN! THE HELLKNIGHTS WILL GIVE ME A COMMENDATION FOR KILLING YOU!" He growls as the man pops out of sight. "There! Just down the hall, in front of that door!" Benaiah barks in response to Gwen's request. His demon-ape like arms point with a clawed finger towards the space where the man disappeared.
Benaiah's mind takes a quick spin in a circle as the rush of adrenaline threatens to overwhelm him. The chemicals coursing through his veins help spur on his urgency. Leaning forward slightly, his long arms and clawed hands dig into the floorboards, lending aid to the quickness with which he covers the open space between him and the burlesque dancer. His distended maw flashes forward in his best effort to see what glittered flesh tastes like.
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Glitter covering the hallway reveals the hooded man right where he was crouching and choking on the glitter that has covered his body.
Benaiah moves closer and ravages the hooded man in front of him. More metal rings pop off the armor underneath and a steady pool of blood is forming underneath him.
The rat gives a squeak before pinching some ash in its paw.
The room suddenly goes grey as a swirling mass of ash whirls about the room. Vision is totally obscured the Companions cover their mouths. Quickly the ash rises to such a high level that walking would be problematic at best.