"Look, I'd imagine a dhampir being tested as a proxy for vampires might not mind if you waved some garlic in their face, but would probably object to a stake through the heart. You see my point? But I take it from your comments that the measures you are studying are less extreme."
Míril takes a seat next to Roshan. "No, thank you. I've already eaten."
"Is it just me, she continues, "or is the city brighter and more cheerful than normal? I'm not complaining, but it's just a little strange to see so many smiles this close to the Worldwound."
Roshan's smile broadens and his body laughs, though no sound issues forth. He touches thumb to fingertips in an oval and puts it to the center of his forehead, then spreads out his hands wide with heel of palms pressed one to each temple as if he's suddenly growing horns. Then he turns slightly to the side to not directly face Miril and throws a straight punch against the air, the other hand slapping his chest creating a snapping sound. Next he cups his hand as if clutching a mug and throws his head back as if downing a drink, then throws his arms around an invisible girl, bending her over in what is likely meant to portray a passionate kiss. Finally, he resumes facing her on his seat with again a slightly cocked head a slightly arched eyebrow and an impish smile as thumb slides between index and middle finger, Then he shrugs spreading his arms wide and slides back in his seat, leaning against the back wall.
She takes in a deep breath, enjoying the breeze.
"Perhaps it's all due to your excellent acrobatics?" she asks with an impish teasing grin.
He shakes his head rapidly and it's possible she might catch the hint of an exhalation of breath through his nose, then, face lowered, looks up smiles appreciatively, lips pressed together putting a hand on his chest.
He shifts side to side, straightening up in his seat. Licks his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment, then points at Miril while raising his eyebrows questioningly, he puts his fingertips together in a steeple, first in front of his right shoulder, then in front of his left, then placing his left hand and forearm straight up in front of him. The fingers of his right hand pointing down swish rapidly back and forth as his hand completes a circle horizontal to the floor. Again his eyebrows raise, shoulders shrug and head slightly to one side as he slides back in his seat, apparently awaiting an answer.
She reaches over and pats Kon hand, her hand is incredibly cold, "But you're a sweet hatchling to humor an old woman."
He has that smile that says he thinks Chancre is a good kid. Maybe a little fresh behind the ears but a good kid.
"Oh, for goodness' sake. I came in through the South Gate. And was tested. You're welcome to check if you like."
"Oh, I will. I mean you're probably fine but you never know about the crusaders. Something rotten in the state of Taldor and all that."
"Look, I'd imagine a dhampir being tested as a proxy for vampires might not mind if you waved some garlic in their face, but would probably object to a stake through the heart. You see my point? But I take it from your comments that the measures you are studying are less extreme."
"Ah, I understand your concerns. This would be more along the lines of squeezing garlic juice onto a dhampir. Which wouldn't do a think to a dhampir or a vampire, just so you know."
"With those concerns alleviated, would you like the position?"
"Oh, I will. I mean you're probably fine but you never know about the crusaders. Something rotten in the state of Taldor and all that."
"I'd heard there had been problems with that kind of thing," Drea acknowledges, "Although I'd been led to believe that it had somewhat improved since the days of the Third Crusade."
"With those concerns alleviated, would you like the position?"
Drea considers. "Would you mind if I sorted out my situation here before I gave a definite answer?" she asks. "I certainly have an interest both in the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake and in thwarting the demonic invasion, but I would hate to make you a promise only to find that I am not available to keep it."
"Do you have a place of business where I could contact you? I would try to get an answer to you as soon as is feasible. Or by whatever deadline you might need to set for your purposes."
Although Armasse doesn't officially start until noon, Clydwell Plaza has been crowed for a number of hours as people filed up the tight switch backs and through the iron gates that allow ingress into the Ring District. A number of street vendors have set up stalls on the edges of the plaza, the rich smells of meat and roasted foods warming the morning air.
Entertainment has been subdued since the festival hasn't official begun, but there are small groups of musicians and a few storytellers to keep the attention of early arrivals. Even in the happy atmosphere, the threat of danger still lurks - obvious almost every able-bodied person goes about armed and armored.
The sun slowly rises to the starting hour of noon.
For someone who isn't Kon: There is a older woman with white hair and pale eyes leaning against a building, observing the events in the plaza.
For someone who isn't Roshan: Although he doesn't really stick out from the richly dressed people at the opening ceremonies, you do spot a man who is dressed in a mix of mercantile and nobles clothing. Functional, but much fancier than is needed.
To someone other than Dreamer: Pale haired elf chatting with a guard and scholar. Impassioned.
After she left and Miril had a bit of time to think, she remembers Striegher had commented on the new head of the Eagle Guard - a female paladin who had rooted out a group of demonic infiltrators. A mercenary group that had gone by the name 'Hammers of Heaven' and lead by what turned out to be a very villainous dwarf.
[b]"However, I can respect the desire to make a considered decision." A moment more, "How about you tell me where you can be found, and either I or a trusted associate will check in with you in a few days?"
"Alternately, just pick a time and place of your choosing for me to meet you or your associate. That would work as well."
Although Armasse doesn't officially start until noon, Clydwell Plaza has been crowed for a number of hours ...
One woman in the crowd might be most noticeable for her bright red hair, if it weren't for the pair of ivory horns, a mouth full of needle-sharp white fangs, and eyes the color of smouldering cinders. In spite of the relative heat of Arodus, she wears a heavy cloak.
More than a few people in the crowd throw her cold looks, and merchants that otherwise appear to be keen on hawking their merchandise seem to get distracted by something important in their stalls as she passes, only to be back at it when her back is to them. Even as packed as the square is, there always seems to be a small bubble of empty space around her.
She glances over at a pale-haired elf, but, as he seems to be deep in conversation, she does not interrupt.
There is one person in the crowd entirely unarmed, unarmored, and unafraid. He has handsome Irrisani features, including a nose that might be politely described as hawkish, ice blue eyes, and hair apparently gone prematurely white. He wears the rough traveling clothes of a mountain man, and he has the hard physique to match. He does not smile casually, but there is a sense -- derived perhaps from his easy posture and squared shoulders -- as he soaks in the entertainments, that this might be more cultural than any kind of anger. In fact, though he is noticeably taller than most, he goes out of his way not to loom.
A deeply tanned man whose balding pate is ringed by a close-cropped silver mane clad in shining, resplendent armor takes the stage. A few whispered conversations around Clydwell Plaza quickly identify the man as the ruler of Kenabres - Prelate Hulrun. He steps to the front of the stage, clearing his throat, ready to start his welcoming speech.
Just as Hulrun's mouth opens, a bright light shines from the west. Hulrun's shadow from the false dawn falls across the cathedral's facade huge and distorted. The ground groans beneath your feet as the air in the plaza explodes. The source of the painful light is... was.. the Kite. The home of Kenabres's wardstone has vanished, replaced by a brilliant plume of red fire, lightning and smoke.
As smoke begins to creep up from cracks forming in the ground, a powerful roar draws attention to a sleek, silver, gargantuan dragon taking to the air. As Kenabres's draconic guardian swoops into the sky, another form appears. A humanoid form, three times the size of a circus strongman, skin coated in flame and lightning, gripping sword and whip - both weapons crackling with searing fire and blinding electricity.
For a moment the growing chaos of the plaza falls away as Terendelev and Khorramzadeh spot each other. Bards sing of their previous encounter: The dragon and the balor lord had faced each other in the skies above Kenabres when the Storm Lord of the Worldwound tried to take the crusader's city. Terendelev drove off the balor general - almost slaying the balor before he fled before her.
In the skies light by hellfire, they begin the charge that will bring their titanic battle to a head.
All around you, the abyss has come to Kenabres, as demons emerge from cracks in the ground. Although a few people have started to react to the danger, there are groups that look completely flummoxed, helpless.
"Aramass is at the end of the week, if you think you can decide which side you want to be on by then, I'll meet you at the Defender's Heart in the late afternoon." With that the silver-haired elf takes his leave.
Occasionally Drea notices him stop and stare at different things as he moves down the wide roadway.
As the conflagration erupts all around them, the nondescript cloaked man detaches from the shadows of the wall and launches himself to help where he can. Giving urgent expression and gesturing strongly in the direction of the closest defensible area he is aware of to those less able to defend themselves and putting hand to weapon on those who are better accoutred to defend themselves and the city.
He makes his way toward the closest enemy...and in the general direction of the burning kite.
Flabby, dirty, an older man wearing an armored kilt with a corkscrew sword at his hip looks around and drinks in the scene.
He looks to the nearest group of confused townspeople. "Get to safety!". He runs toward them, head bobbing as he runs. "Go! Go!"
"... oh criminy."
The redhead whips off her cloak to free her limbs. Leathery, crimson wings and an arrow-tipped tail of a similar color snap out and lash the air.
She moves to interpose herself between the demons and the nearest frightened group of noncombatants.
"آپ کو ایسا کرنے کی ضرورت نہیں ہے," she says to whatever demon or demons stand in front of her. "تم وہ کہتے ہیں کی ضرورت نہیں ہے. ، اب چھوڑ دو ان لوگوں کو جانے دو، اور آزاد ہو."
Chancre looks up at the flying redhead. "Good luck, lady" he says.
The sight of what appears to be a youngish succubus interposing herself between the other demons and their prey draws a curious glance from the nondescript monk and as she speaks his head whips around in a double take. A distraction, though temporary, which perhaps he can ill afford in such a battle.
The big white-haired man scowls at the dragon and the balor, then glances at the crowd. A small frown of annoyance creases his face. Then he mutters something under his breath, and coupled with a gesture that just might be obscene, begins to speak. His words are amplified somewhat, allowing him to speak over at least a bit of the hubbub.
In a clear, Irrisani accent, he addresses those townsfolk closest to him. "Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me to safety. Let's allow the demigods to have their battle while we go elsewhere. Move quickly and calmly. No pushing. That's right, let's go."
He shepherds the group, doing his best to make sure no one gets left behind, and will attempt to add others to it.
Roshan manages to get the attention of a small group of people who, after a moment, run recklessly away from the plaza - at least temporarily keeping them from the danger moving into the city.
Chancre too manages to draw attention from the aerial battle and get people, who would otherwise stand like deer in headlights, moving.
The winged woman, however, does not seem to be making much headway on the demonic front. Unless of course, she had been telling the demons to swarm towards her with the intent to claw flesh from bone.
Konstantin's voice and powerful presence gets a large group of merchants and non-combatants moving towards an alley that thus far has been untouched by the rolling earth and clawing demons. However, just as Kon is about to follow the, he sees a two woman, one carrying a small child cut off from the safety of the exit by a small maniacal green-skinned demon swinging a burning torch.
Meanwhile, the two combatants in the sky above slammed into each other, Terendelev's claws and teeth rending flesh... but the burning whip and electrified sword doing cutting deep - the battle far more even than Khorramzadeh previous attempt. The titanic duo spiral downward towards the running crowd, until the silver dragon manages to redirect them it the facade of the church - demolishing the building.
A massive demon, triple the size of the Storm Lord tears its way up from the ground beneath the plaza, opening a huge rift beneath your feet.
The heavy blade in Khorramzadeh's hand swings for Terendelev's body. Although the dragon tries to maneuver herself away, she can't dodge the blow. In the seconds before the unholy metal cleaves her neck, the righteous fury blazes then settles into peace. A final look away from her foe and she sees the small group of people who could not quite make it away from the gaping rift that opened in the plaza.
One final spell before Khorramzadeh's weapon beheads the mighty dragon and you feel your fall slowing, even as debris and rocks shower down around you - pummeling your bodies.
"That's not remotely what--" A rock bounces off Chancre's face, shutting him up. He is unconscious.
Drea's wings flap once, straining towards flight and escape, then promptly fold up like accordions with scarcely a pause in her downward motion.
Then she gets brained by a rock.
Konstantin grabs the green demon from behind, claws flashing from his fingertips as he guts the creature.
"Madam, now would be the time to ru--"
*thunk*
Roshan attempts to slide down a wall to slow his progress, but there is no wall there. He attempts to fend off the falling debris, but it is too numerous and too large. Unconsciousness comes quickly as he falls into blackness.
Minutes or hours later you come to consciousness in a dark place. Heads throb and ears ring, the air is thick with dust which dampens your breathing.
In the dark you hear muffled sounds of movement. Groans. A sharp intake of pain followed by quiet but pained breathing.
However, your head clears and your ears stop ringing.
If Kon's fingers linger on the object, the cold intensifies with a small wave of sadness, then lessens again.
Roshan comes too. He lies still for several minutes, assessing his situation and the condition of his injuries. He starts checking through his pack by feel...
Chancre pulls out a coin. "For my first trick...."
He Lights it up.
"Good trick," Konstantin observes. He frowns, cocking his head to listen. "Scratching noises out in the dark," he says with some small amount of distaste.
He pokes around the ground where he regained consciousness, as though looking for something he might have dropped.
Chancre looks around for any unconscious people. "How hurt are we?"
The redhead remains unconscious, a trickle of blood leaking from a gash in her head.
Chancre lays his hands on the redhead.
"Oof ... thanks," Drea says to Chancre, blinking awake. "Truly glad to be waking up alive ..."
"Is, is everyone else down here OK? And where is 'down here', exactly, anyway?"
"I'm called Drea, by the way," she adds after a moment. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, although a meeting under less ... utterly catastrophic circumstances might have been more relaxing."
"Name's Chancre. And that outright hurt. Anybody else need the help?"
Chancre pulls out a coin. "For my first trick...."
He Lights it up.
Although the light from the coin does push back the darkness, it does little to truly illuminate the vast cavern. On the side near to where you came to consciousness, there is an enormous mound of rubble - under one particularly large rock you see the armor-clad arm of one of the crusaders who had been keeping the demons from chasing the normal townsfolk. But most of the body parts you see are demonic in origin.
From behind a horse-sized rock a tall, thin elf stumbles, his voice analytical and calm despite the current upheaval. "I do believe that light spell would have functioned if you had emphasized the second to the last syllable rather than the last." Of course, a moment later, the elf manages to make his way into the circumference of the light and acid burns across his face might have more to do with his inability to see the light than Chancre's skill at magic.
The newly created light also reveals something in the direction Kon indicated for a scratching sound - a large arachnid shape looms in the darkness.
"I am Konstantin, and the beast is pregnant," Konstantin says mildly, rising from his place, his left hand curling around some silver object.
"Stay where you are," he says to no one in particular (unless you made the Perception roll, then it's obvious who he's addressing). "We'll be with you as soon as this spider and its offspring are dead. Just a warning, though. The floor is about to be absolutely covered in poisonous bugs. So... you know. Try not to get any in your mouth."
"I thank you for the offer, Chancre, but save your powers for the others. I believe we will be needing them in a moment."
He murmurs a word under his breath and frost rimes his right hand.
Initiative
Konstantin opens his hand, revealing a solid sphere of ice, which he hurls at the spider.
Ranged touch:
Fort save DC 15 or be staggered
"Aravashnial, the light is on, I believe you've been blinded," Drea says. "And as ... Konstantin? ... has just said, there is rather enormous spider in here with us, so please take care."
Initiative:
Note: Unless otherwise specified, Drea will NEVER attack any creature which has not already attacked (whether the attack be on herself or someone else.) It can therefore be presumed that unless her action is not an attack, she will always delay action until at least one foe has attacked someone. I will try to remember to note this (more briefly) each time, but if I ever forget to do so please still apply it. (Since she has not actually taken the Vow of Peace yet, incidentally, she is not required to do this, although she still is because she would, and is also not required to fight defensively, something she is not yet doing.)
Action: Once any creature has attacked, Drea will move to it and make a "bite" attack (see "possible text" for details.)
Attack:
Damage:
Possible Text: Drea rushes up to the enormous spider, plants her hands on the side of its head, and ... kisses it. Quite thoroughly. Ichor immediately sprays from suppurating wounds that erupt across its body when she does.
"Well," she says, "That was ... disgusting. At least I kept my mouth closed, as advised."
Current AC: 14
Current hp: 5
Roshan
AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 12. . (+5 Dex, +2 Monk(wisdom))
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +4
Heavy throwing knives suddenly appear in the hands of a cloaked man, still unsteady on his feet. He lets fly anyway and manages not to impale any of you. At least this time.
special attack x2
Acid spews from the mouth of the creature, eating away at your clothing and armor. However, the partially digested spider also seems to eat away at the maggot's flesh. and out for
"Stay where you are," he says to no one in particular (unless you made the Perception roll, then it's obvious who he's addressing). "We'll be with you as soon as this spider and its offspring are dead. Just a warning, though. The floor is about to be absolutely covered in poisonous bugs. So... you know. Try not to get any in your mouth."
"Aravashnial, the light is on, I believe you've been blinded," Drea says. "And as ... Konstantin? ... has just said, there is rather enormous spider in here with us, so please take care."
"Blind?" The elf's, presumably Aravashnial's, voice drops away for a moment. "I remember the babau that was spitting like a common dilophosaurus..." He swallows noticeably, then his voice regains some of the previous confidence, "Still a simple arachnid, no matter the size, shouldn't be too much of a problem."
"Unless of course it has been affected by the energies from the rifts in the Worldwound. Does it perhaps have any unspiderlike characteristics?"
Roshan moves to intercede himself between
"Chancre, I don't know if you heard, but there are some people back there who might need your help," Drea says quietly. "At least one conscious, at least one not moving."
"Unless of course it has been affected by the energies from the rifts in the Worldwound. Does it perhaps have any unspiderlike characteristics?"
"None that I can see," Drea says. "And any advice you would care to offer on the subject would be most welcome, since I cannot recall ever previously fighting a spider larger than a thimble. Which I took outside. In a cup. And I imagine that is probably not an appropriate tactic here."
"Allow me, monk."
Chancre activates his healing judgment and surges, giving him Fast Healing 2.
He steps up behind the monk to CLW.
...and to Drea, "We need a bigger cup."
Heavy throwing knives suddenly appear in the hands of a cloaked man, still unsteady on his feet. He lets fly anyway and manages not to impale any of you. At least this time. The knives hit the spider's abdomen - breaking off chunks of the creature's flesh... revealing a brood of maggots within.
There is a rush of power and a number of the red marks on Chancre's face clear. He steps up behind Roshan and lays a hand on the knife-fighter's back.
Konstantin opens his hand, revealing a solid sphere of ice, which he hurls at the mass of maggots while moving up a few steps. The icy missile rimes one of the maggots in frost and the creature looks sluggish in its movements.
Drea moves to place herself between the maggots and the remainder of the party.
Fair?
If you'd like, you can use your rolls from last round, or you can declare something different.
The maggot surge out of the spider carapace, inching their way towards the new warm, bloody flesh. The faces of the creature almost seem to have some humanoid features, making their mindless drive for food all the more disturbing.
use actions and rolls from R1
"Pregnant. Oh, Konstantin, you wide-eyed optimist."
Konstantin points a finger at the wounded maggot. A white beam streaks from it, leaving frost where it touches.
Vs. Touch
"Er ... Advice on giant spiders now moot. Advice on the giant maggots pouring out of the dead giant spider's corpse would be more useful." She peers at the creatures a bit more closely with her softly glowing eyes. "Giant maggots who appear to be abyssally tainted enough to go after live prey instead of just scavenging."
Revised Possible Text: Drea moves to one of the enormous maggots, plants her hands on the sides of its disturbingly malformed head, and ... kisses it. Quite thoroughly. Ichor immediately sprays from suppurating wounds that erupt across its body when she does.
"Well," she says, "That was ... disgusting. At least I kept my mouth closed, as advised earlier."
Current AC: 14
Current hp: 5
Current Saves: Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +4
"Er ... Advice on giant spiders now moot. Advice on the giant maggots pouring out of the dead giant spider's corpse would be more useful." She peers at the creatures a bit more closely with her softly glowing eyes. "Giant maggots who appear to be abyssally tainted enough to go after live prey instead of just scavenging."
"If you are more martially inclined I'd recommend holy or cold iron weapons." The elf says, "Demonic taint tends to make the flesh more resistant to the more standard metals."
He considers tapping long fingers against the rock he leans on, "If they absorbed enough abyssal energy in during their maturation process then they may have the ability to greatly damage those of pure heart. I'd be cautious entering into melee with them."
Chancre brings out his bow and shoots at a maggot.
"I shot an arrow in the dark. Sure do hope it hits its mark."
"Allow me, monk."
"If you are more martially inclined I'd recommend holy or cold iron weapons." The elf says, "Demonic taint tends to make the flesh more resistant to the more standard metals."
He considers tapping long fingers against the rock he leans on, "If they absorbed enough abyssal energy in during their maturation process then they may have the ability to greatly damage those of pure heart. I'd be cautious entering into melee with them."
The monk rolls his shoulders, moves his head from side to side, then nods curtly to acknowledge both Chancre and Aravashnial without taking his eyes off of the advancing maggots.
He removes a pair of circular metal bands from a clip on his belt.
Roshan
AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 12. . (+5 Dex, +2 Monk(wisdom))
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +4
The monk looks over at the two companions ahead of him, eyes narrow slightly as he tries to size them up in the split second or so before they and the tainted giant vermin meet. An almost imperceptible nod of his head, possibly acknowledging his assessment of their abilities before letting two circular blades fly at the wriggling creatures headed towards the group on his side. He pauses just long enough to note the effectiveness of his first throw, then looses the second.
The monk looks over at the two companions ahead of him, eyes narrow slightly as he tries to size them up in the split second or so before they and the tainted giant vermin meet. An almost imperceptible nod of his head, possibly acknowledging his assessment of their abilities before letting two circular blades fly at the wriggling creatures headed towards the group on his side. He pauses just long enough to note the effectiveness of his first throw, then looses the second. The first throw brings the maggot to a halt just a few undulations from Drea. The second rends deeply into the other that has made the most headway.
Chancre brings out his bow and shoots at a maggot.
"I shot an arrow in the dark. Sure do hope it hits its mark." Unless he was aiming for the spider carcass... he does not.
Konstantin points a finger at the wounded maggot. A white beam streaks from it, leaving frost where it touches. The creature shudders as the frost covers it - spewing out its inwards to freeze on the ground in moments.
Drea continues to stand between the maggots and the rest of the group.
The maggot directly in front of Drea regurgitates its innards on her before expiring from its wounds. Despite the reeking, disgusting bile, Drea manages to not be horribly sickened.
The next maggot over, also injured by Roshan, attempts to bite Drea - but also seems to be suffering from an allergic reaction to the cold iron in Roshan's weapon. Acid spews from the mouth of the creature, eating away at Drea's clothing. However, the partially digested spider also seems to eat away at the maggot's flesh. The creature convulses a few more times, then dies of the allergy.
The final maggot, undamaged and hungry, charges the nearest target... which also happens to be Drea. And its sharp tunneling teeth take out a circular piece of flesh.
Drea moves to one of the enormous maggots, plants her hands on the sides of its disturbingly malformed head, and ... kisses it. Quite thoroughly. Ichor immediately sprays from suppurating wounds that erupt across its body when she does.
"Well," she says, "That was ... disgusting. At least I kept my mouth closed, as advised earlier." Meanwhile the maggot dies from the damage.
"Oh, good," she mutters. "That would have just been ... cliché."
"You know, I really agree," Drea says to someone back in the rocks as she goes to check on them, and whoever else might still be back there. "Er ... please don't be alarmed by my appearance or the fact that I am covered in maggot vomit, I don't suppose anyone has a towel? I'm on the side of the good guys, I promise."