The choking wave of ash obscures even the hogoblin's enhanced vision, and for one of the few times in his life Malgrim is deprived of sight. With small, managed breaths he attempts to weigh how this changes the battlefield: where was the assassin exactly? The rat? He quickly considers his options and decides that trying long range effects could only make matters worse for Benaiah. More pressing, his calculations come up with some positively horrendous possibilities that the caster might accomplish left to its own devices.
He calls out quickly, "Benaiah! Give him a hug!" before advancing on where he last saw the frustrating vermin.
Resolutely he moves forward, and no mere ash could bar his way. The baseboard of the bed was perhaps a different story, but the collision of furniture with his hardened shins only add to the tally of wreckage the party will be billed for... should they survive.
Stumbling just short of where he thought the rat was, he coalesces the ash around him into a solid force, which he attempts to slam down onto the rodent.
the halfling abandons her plan to continue to strength and heal her allies.
Malgrim, blind as the day he was born, throws more stone towards where he thinks the rat is. Through the ash and blindness, his attack flies wide of the mark.
Meanwhile, Benaiah can feel the whoosh and slash of knives pass close to him.
Yet none of the knives manage to penetrate the man's armored shell.
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Benaiah's adrenaline continues coursing through his veins. When the ash drops, he blinks a few times, thinking that something happened to his vision, perhaps from the volume of chemicals he has imbibed. When the darkness does not relent, he closes his eyes to keep the particles from getting in, and pictures where the knife man just was. Considering the number of knives that just zipped past his ear, the man couldn't have moved far...
Benaiah throws caution to the ashen winds, and launches forward again, snapping his maw down where he thinks the man might be. His bite is quickly followed by two swipes with his mutated hands, hoping the wide arc might just connect with something and do some damage.
for
for
for
One knife slashes through the ash storm to pierce Benaiah in the shoulder. The deep gash springs a rivulet of blood that trickles down the mans arm.
This only enrages Benaiah further and he unleashes a vicious attack that would fell the mightiest of foe. Yet all his attacks only encounter the swirling miasma of ash.
Kicked up from nowhere and forming in the air around the halfling, a driving storm of ash swirls until all sight is blotted out. At her feet, she can feel the particles of ash building and piling, until the floorboards are all but lost beneath gathering cinders. There is a faint din from her companions filtering through the growing storm, both that of Malgrim and Benaiah in the struggles of combat. No sound nor sign of Arimiar reaches her eyes or ears, and her heart flutters in panic.
"That rat!" she calls aloud, stopping the song rising the violin and and moving her hand to block her eyes from the ash. "I'm going to try and stop it from casting more spells!"
The halfing shouts the last words, hoping two things in that moment. The first fleeting thought is that she hopes she is not making a huge mistake. And the second thought, which in that moment is just as terrifying as the first... she hopes she will not further draw the attention of the magically inclined rodent.
After a split second spent desperately trying to look around the room but finding her attempt utterly in vain, she draws upon some inner reserve and casts a spell of her own. As her own set of magical words leave her lips and the spells embraces her, Gwendolyn can hear all sound fall away from the dark, blinding world. And just like that she is wholly entombed, wrapped in deathly silence and darkness.
Sliding one foot in front of the other, she tries her best to move in the direction she had last seen the rat-creature standing, but slams one knee painfully into the unseen bed. She tries to scream in pain but finds no sound is able to pass her lips, and she hopes that next time the rodent-beast tries to cast a spell, he will find the same dilemma set upon him.
With a struggle, she manages to climb atop the bed, and stands ready to be attacked from any direction out of the blackness.
Blinded and now silent, Gwen does her best to maneuver around the ash filled room. Deprived of her main senses, she only hopes she is closer to the rat than before.
Deprived of his sense of sound and sight, Malgrim recalls much more pleasant times... such as the backbreaking toil as a slave in the High General's mines. Suffocation, hard breathing, I can't even tell if Arimar's still bleeding. As a last resort, Malgrim makes another swing with his foot at the location he last saw the rat, his scything limb collecting and solidifying ash as it falls to form the world's largest rat trap.
Malgrim once again hurls an combination of ash and stone, hoping he hit the rat.
Being both blind and unable to hear, he has no way of knowing if his attack was successful or not.
I hope I've done the right thing, Gwendolyn thinks to herself, still lost amidst the darkness and silence. Though she cannot see what lay around her, and knows normally there would be the roaring din of the storm and the clashing sound of her struggling companions, the only senses still functioning allow her to feel the impacts of ash upon her skin, the noxious smell lingering in her nostrils, and the bitter taste which seems to tip her to the verge of sickness. Though she wonders if the sick feeling twisting her stomach is more to do with the fear that she has hindered her companions rather than help them.
If they get hurt because of me, her thoughts continue. I will never forgive myself...
Basically crawling along the bed, the halfling fumbles toward the northern wall, hoping to pull the area of silence with her and relieve at least one of her companions from its deafening grasp.
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Benaiah nearly tumbles over from his flurry of attacks only hitting the ashy air in front of him. He manages to keep his balance for the moment.
"Running away are you? I'll find you little cockroach!"
Groping forward in the darkness, too stubborn to be afraid to smash his face against an unseen obstacle, the deformed man advances through the hallway and further from his companions, hoping to catch the man trying to escape out the other side of the cloud of ash.
Instead he finishes his tumble from before, falling flat on his face.
Unable to see, surrounded by the crushing nothingness of silence, a brother lying near death's door, a brief message that Mistress Lanvi is in danger, the Companions face their toughest situation yet. For the first time indecision creeps in as their profound abilities are mitigated by their surrounding.
Gwen moves where she thinks the rat has gone, while Benaiah, relishing the protection his armor as given him, silently curses as the weight and rigidity causes him to stumble and lose his footing.
Malgrim stumbles and coughs as he attempts to make his way through the curtain of ash, only sparing a moments thought to be grateful that his granite hardened eyes were preventing the gray from getting in.
The halfling remains leaning against the wall, wrapped tightly in the oppressive silence and darkness. From her position, in a place that seems wholly beyond existence, she wonders and hopes her friends are faring alright in this struggle. She turns her head and looks side to side, though without being able to see her body for the driving ash, Gwendolyn is unsure if she even able to preform even the simplest of tasks. Even her postion in the room seems uncertain.
And so she remains leaning against the wall, waiting for the either the rat creature to find her or the spells to wain and wither.
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Flustered and out of breath, both from the choking ash and his chemical crash, Benaiah scrambles his ungainly arms and legs to find some semblance of up and down. Completely unsure what direction is what in the darkness, he instead simply tries to find his feet.
Placing magically enhanced arms underneath him, he slides one foot under his mass and rises to a knee. The desk behind him has other ideas though, and the resulting crack and crash has him grimacing.
I'll make that damn rat pay for that one...
Pushing through the nuisance, he finishes standing up. His left arm gropes for the wall beside him, giving him a measure of confidence about where he is at and what direction he is facing. Still panting, he reaches for his bag on his hip. Fingers ache and fatigue radiates through his arms as he fumbles for the right potion vial. There, the one with the sharp edges and wax that has dripped all the way down to the bottom. He grips it tightly, aching for the temporary relief it holds.
Gwen decides to not rush into action, preferring to react to any potential threats.
Benaiah is able to once again regain his footing, but is unable to move further due to the swirling ash.
Malgrim stumbles through the overwhelming ash, deprived of all senses but the feeling of the floor under his feet. He finally edges towards the inn wall and briefly draws strength from the solidity of the structure. With a mixture of hope and resignation, Malgrim attempts to enter the location that he lost saw the target of all this commotion.
Malgrim hears the sudden in-rush of sound after the previous deafening silence. He almost calls out to his companions for a status update but quickly rejects the plan, settling to quickly say, "Bookkeeper, are you ok? I will get you out of here."
Reaching out into the storm of Ash, Malgrim forms a solidified sheet of rock to provide at least a sembleance of shelter the cowering Bookkeeper
"Please, stop this" Malgrim intones as he stares down the Half Elf resolutely. He reaches back into the ash and draws back wisps of gray that coalesce around his arm and slam into the half-elf, though he continues to aim to subdue rather than kill.
Drawing forth from a deep reservoir of internal power, Malgrim directs the roiling earth extending from his arm as if it was a natural appendage, snaking back to force another blow on their attacker!
In her mind the alarm spell rings though it makes no outward audible noise. The ringing in her mind breaks the oppressive silence and seems almost deafening by comparison, causing her again to attempt to peer through the driving ash for signs of what's happening in the room around her. With a few gestures of her unseen hands, obscured by the ash storm, Gwendolyn begins dismiss the silence spell.
Once completed, and the heavy silence has lifted, returning the sound of falling ash and her companion's struggles, she shouts at the top of her lungs.
she calls aloud, terrified for her friends' safety.
Then she begins to shuffle awkwardly toward her fallen companion, Arimar.
Emerging from the blinding ashes, Malgrim spots a beautiful half-elf brandishing a deadly sickle in her hand. With no rat in sight, he decides to once again form a deadly blade of earth. Swinging mightily, the hobgoblin stays his blow to only knock the half-elf not, not kill her outright.
She crumples to the ground unconscious.
Gwen drops the silence spell just as the ash stops falling from the sky and begins to disappear as it settles to the ground, melting into the woodwork.
The hooded man reemerges from around the corner and shouts to Benaiah. "Give up now, my friends have arrived and will come through the window any moment. Once they crash in, they will kill you where you stand." Hoping to have momentarily distracted Benaiah, the hooded man once again throws a dagger hoping to severely wound his opponent.
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F$&k.
Benaiah looks briefly at the potion in his hands, which somehow feels heavy despite its small size and his giant-like strength.
I'm dead if that bastard gets more than one knife off again... Where the hell does he keep all of those things?
Out of position and at a sore disadvantage, Benaiah flips the cork and drains the liquid, feeling a sudden rush into his limbs. He grins and lopes towards the murdering bandit, closing the gap between them.
"I'm going to rip your throat out with my teeth and hold your entrails in front of your dying eyes. Then I'm going to pay a diviner to make you answer all my questions about who you are from the other side of the grave." Benaiah's face closes to within inches of the dangerous man. His beastial breath washes over the face of the knife thrower, daring him to attempt to do something else.
Malgrim spares barely a glance back at the window and the earthen wall that provides bare reinforcement before muttering, "Company soon..." but there were more urgent matters of assassins in the hall. The hobgoblin advances through the room, so much easier now that the Ash had departed and returns once more to Arimar's side by the door. Sighting the assailant engaged with Benaiah, Malgrim tries to calm some of his monstrous friend's urges with a reminder, "We need him alive!" before drawing a boulder from the dirt and ashy residue left in the air, which he launches down the hall.
As the storm of ash ceases in an instance and a flood of sensations take form, the halfing nearly stumbles back as both sight and sound return. Her eyes widen as the light of the chamber seems to gleam and glare while her sight returns, and she squints painfully, adjusting to the suddenly unfamiliar sensation of sight. As her feet lay the body of Arimar, though he is not moving, the paladin does not seem to be in any worse condition than some thirty seconds ago. Moving to her side is the standing, if a bit battered, form of Malgrim. Ahead she can see Benaiah is still standing as well, though injured, and she feels a rush of relief that non of her friends have died in the span of seconds when she could neither hear nor see.
No one has died because of her actions. At least, not yet.
Taking a step forward, Gwendolyn tries to put her small body between Arimar and knife throwing assailant still in the hallway. Once she has moved, the halfling quickly reaches down, muttering a few words of magical power, and places a hand gently on her fallen friend.
Malgrim once again hurls his projectile of earth at his foes. The hooded man's attention is focused on the brute of a man in front of him and he is completely unaware of the softly packed boulder flying through the air. It strikes him squarely in the face dropping him in a pool of his own blood.
Gwen moves forward and heals her friend, restoring the paladin to the land of the living.
Looking around them, the companions see no more threats and take a moment to gather themselves.
Hooded man's gear:
- +2 mithral chain shirt
- +1 dagger x8
- belt of incredible dexterity +2
- gloves of storing
- Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds
- 150 gp
Half-elf gear:
- +2 ironwood chainmail
- +1 cold iron sickle
- druid's vestment
- potion of cure moderate wounds
- 150 gp
Arimar takes in a sharp, painful breath and looks at the carnage all around him. He notes that the bookkeeper is safe, as are all of his friends and lets that breath out in a slow, relieved exhalation.
"I am sorry I missed the fight," he tries to manage a smile, despite being quite disappointed with himself. It will not do to wallow, he thinks, before adding, Who are you?
Almost instinctually, Arimar calls out for Sarenrae's healing ( ) before hauling himself up and grabbing a wand out of his handy haversack.
Still pained by the movements, he asks for healing once more ( ) before administering first to his friends with the wand, and then to himself while the others loot the bodies.
"Well, that feels a whole lot better," he adds when he is finished, "Let's go help Lanvi. Do we know where she is? And what do you think we should do with the bookkeeper while we do? Will he be safer in the adjoining room or running around with us?"
Shivering in fear in the corner, Oscar (still invisible) cries out, "Is ... it ... over? Please .... tell ... me .... I .... am ... safe?"
Arimar, placing the supple leather gloves on, instantly recalls a beautifully carved dagger from the gloves.
Fully healed the companions see the half-elf is still slumped unconscious on the floor while the hooded man is slowly dying.
Arimar moves over and quickly bandages up the dying knife-man. "You are not worthy of Sarenrae's healing," he tells the unconscious body, "But neither are you inherently evil, despite what you have done here today. I will not let you die." All who come to her shall be healed, Arimar reminds himself of Sarenrae's teaching, But they did not come for healing, they came for death... and healing doesn't necessarily mean magical healing. Why am I debating this with myself?
The paladin turns to his companions, "So, what do you think we should do with these two? I'd like to question them, but Lanvi needs us first. Truss them up in the other room or should we get out of the Frumpy Duchess permanently?"
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Benaiah walks around in a daze, trying his best to hide his slight stupor for the magical means of propping up his fatigue. His head swirls, and he feels as though he is observing the aftermath of the fight through someone else's eyes. He stares as Gwen and Arimar heal themselves, imagining how he might help but unaware that he is actually not moving a muscle to be useful.
His daze continues as he seems to watch himself smile in response to Arimar's healing from the wand, and he is unsure why he doesn't show his gratitude more to his friend, changed though he might be.
"Lanvi... Yes. She needs us." He finally speaks, surprised slightly at the sound.
"No, Oscar. You are not safe. Not here, not anywhere apparently. Not unless you are with us, and not until you are done deciphering that book. Clean up your breeches, have another stout if it will calm your nerves, and get this finished. The sooner, the better for all of us." he says, turning to the disembodied voice.
Listening to what Benaiah says, Gwen heads back to the common room. Strangely, none of the patrons seem the wiser for the deadly fight which took place only moments ago. Grabbing a tray of beers, Gwen push presses the tray one handed above her head and nimbly tries to ascend the staircase.
Blocking her path is a dirty urchin of unknown gender, the telltale crumbs of dawnflower bread tricked down the front of its filthy rags.
"Got a message from the temple." the urchin begins pulling a small sheet from its pocket. Impressed it knows how to read, Gwen smirks as it reads the contents.
"Lanvi secure at temple. Hurt but recovering. Be on the lookout for danger. May Sarenrae protect you. And if you look here miss there is the letter 'K'." The urchin pops the paper into its mouth and begins to chew quickly before extending a hand palm up towards the affable halfling, eyes wide.
Should make a note to check the glove of storing if there is an item on it. Put it on and snap the fingers! Handy item, but worth 5,000gp if sold... may be worth selling it and buying a pathfinder pouch or its non-Pathfinder equivalent instead.
Malgrim surveys the scene, glad that it managed to end without any death... so far.
"The woman is likely the spellcasting rat, likely a druid. I am unsure how effective mere bindings will be in holding her. I managed soften the majority of her injuries, so take note there."
He allows the exterior of stone to fade and looks over his minimal wounds, before turning to the others. "I am unsure how much time we have to remain here, should we attempt to aid Lanvi."
To the Bookkeeper: "You are safe for now, though security through obscurity has failed. I am unsure where else you could go or what else we could do other than discovering what the contents hold and neutralizing those that would seek you harm."
"Well, thank you for that message, now run down stairs and tell the owner that we will forgive him that he allowed his guests to be assaulted inside the Duchess if he sends a crew or priest in to fix the door," Arimar smiles and adds, "We will pay for the damage."
When the urchin is gone, Arimar turns to his colleagues, "It would appear as though we need not distract ourselves to aid Lanvi. Oscar, calm down and continue your work. We will continue to protect you. Hopefully they threw the worst of it at us first and haven't got anywhere near this capacity to follow up.
"So, let's stay here for now, agreed?" Arimar turns to his companions for confirmation.
"Let's interrogate these fools one at a time," Arimar produces some smelling salts and breaks open the container beneath the hooded man's nose. He splutters and comes to, "Don't try to move, your injuries are too great." Arimar notes firmly but not unkindly.
"I'm not sure what you were told about why you were hired," he begins, "But your efforts are impeding the repair of a very important Fountain within the Temple of Sarenrae - one that could heal any ailment. I do not believe you are evil, simply mercenary, so surely that fact should give you pause when considering your actions here. Perhaps I am wrong, perhaps you would like to stop people from being made well.
"But if I am right, and you do not have maliciousness in your heart," Arimar tilts his head, attempting to appear non threatening, "Then please Help us to restore the fountain. Tell me who exactly hired you, and what your instructions were... and anything else about your mission."
The Companions rouse the half-elf and hooded man. Now that they are not in the midst of a fight for their lives, Gwen takes a long look at them. She clearly recognizes them as Luma Derexhi and her half-brother, Ontor Derexhi
As the Companions know, the Derexhi family is one of Magnimar's great family, and are most notable for their 'top squad' comprised of noble mercenaries. Luma and Ontor are part of that squad.
Both are relatively forthcoming at Arimar's initial line of questioning. The half-elf tries to smile at Arimar before beginning. I am Luma. Please tell me my half-brother Ontor is ok?" the half-elf begins. "It is true that I am a druid of the city, as my brother is a master of knives. You know that we are Derexhi, and news of our capture will reach our father Randred.
"I can tell you that we were hired to kill or capture the bookkeeper. We were given information on your whereabouts moments ago. I did not speak directly to the source, that would have been our sister Iskola. I know it was someone close to your Mistress Lanvi.
"We were not told of your mission to restore the Fountain, or why the bookkeeper was so important. And I cannot divulge who has hired us. At times my half-siblings share that information with me, like the time we captured the Shoanti Priza, at other times, I am left with limited information."
As the companions speak with Ontor, they get a very different impression. This one will be less adapt to work with them. "Hooray for you. You are building a magic fountain. The Derexhi family is not in the business of ratting on our clients." he smirks at his quip. "Just send a messenger to my father and he will pay your ransom. You can even include Luma if you want. Think I have some spare change you can use for her."
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Benaiah sits down, cross-legged on the floor in front of Ontor. He closes his eyes for a moment and his heart rate jumps. His blood pressure rises slowly, and for a moment a bead of sweat appears on his forehead. Seconds later, his arms begin to shrink, returning to their original length as he dismisses the drug-infused spell. His haze and stupor seems to have passed, and his wits once again return.
"I could growl and spit and threaten you to make you fear me, toy with your life, and make you hate me in order to get the information we want. I've even contemplated just killing you and hiring someone versed in the dark arts to speak to your soul, but there is a better solution for both of us, so I'll ask that you look past my demonic appearance and hear what I propose." Benaiah remains still, legs crossed, hardly in any discomfort, at least that anyone can tell. His eyes bore into the eyes of the assassin in front of him, looking for some indication of interest in his words.
"Word of your capture need not reach your father, and we aren't so short-sighted as to think that a sack of gold is worth as much as a poor peasant might think. No, The ransom money for you is, pricey though it may be, is not that much. We are men and women to think long term, who deal in investments that continue to bear fruit long after the initial investment is made." Benaiah perks an eyebrow up, seeing enough interest to continue. Or at least not enough dis-interest to change course just yet.
"Report back that the Bookkeeper is dead, and we will release you with no demands for ransom. By all accounts you will have achieved what you were hired to do, with no loss of standing in your family or in the back corners where the deals are made to hire you. In return, we will become friends. Friends who tell each other things and scratch each others backs. In the end, we both win, and that's all we are both after right? Winning?"