The Four Pillars

Game Master chavamana

Roshan appears to be watching the demons. But maybe that's just because of their reputation as being particularly skilled in assassination.

Chancre steps up and nods to the dwarf. "That the book of Droskar? Can you answer me a question on the subject, or are you studying it to learn instead of to commune?"

The dwarf doesn't smile, but the harsh lines of his face gentle slightly. "I read it to remind me that life is toil and pain, so please, ask your question."

The dwarf doesn't smile, but the harsh lines of his face gentle slightly. "I read it to remind me that life is toil and pain, so please, ask your question."

"Southerners should relish that they need to find reminders in literature."

"Are you working with the demons, or for them?" She blurts out the question, unable to continue the pretense that she doesn't notice three demons huddling around the dwarf.

"Southerners should relish that they need to find reminders in literature."

"Are you working with the demons, or for them?" She blurts out the question, unable to continue the pretense that she doesn't notice three demons huddling around the dwarf.

"The demons are sworn to Deskari and follow Staunton's orders." The chuckle is that of a man on the gallows, "As do I, the work was good, the strain on my faith..."

"I did not expect the chaos of the abyss to be such a gnawing beast."

"The demons are sworn to Deskari and follow Staunton's orders." The chuckle is that of a man on the gallows, "As do I, the work was good, the strain on my faith..."

"I did not expect the chaos of the abyss to be such a gnawing beast."

"The work was good... it could be better elsewhere, working for less hungry beasts."

At this, Samirah lunges forward to engage the demons.

"Droskar came to Torag as a student. What did he hope to learn?"

"Droskar came to Torag as a student. What did he hope to learn?"

"The art of the forge." The apparently nameless dwarf says, "But Torag lacked the dedication to sacrifice everything to his art."

Even as the dwarf is answering, Chancre moves closer to all foes even as he keeps his allies out of the range of his shield. He triggers the brilliant light of his shield hoping to blind dwarf and demon alike. "How is that for a stroke of insight?" However all four manage to shield their eyes, "Wait, I said it wrong."

The babau raise their weapons to attack...

As the Babau begin their attack, Radiance rises to meet them, slicing through one's bicep, curling around in a wide arc and returning to Roshan's hand as he takes his stand between the oncoming demons and his friends.

All of the babau's swords find their mark, powering through the dwarf's armor - to his surprise if no one else's - blood bathing the small table.

"...that can't be good...."

Chancre triggers Steve, targeting a babau. Sadly, Steve is thwarted by the reistance to magic that is the demon's inate ability.

Samirah targets two of the demons circling the dwarf, attempting to draw their attention away from finishing him off to her and her coal-hot scimitar. Although she misses the babau 'on point' her blade cuts brutally into the babau that has flanking on the dwarf.

Roshan continues forward, releasing a weapon at each step, each hurled with surprising accuracy but only Radiance punching through the demon's bone-tight hide even as their swords had powered through the dwarf's armor.

Konstantin draws his wand of magic missile and fires a blast at one of the babau. Sadly, his wand is also thwarted by the anti-magic-ness of the babau.

"Ah, f~@#." Quiet, more an breath out than words. And the dwarf slumps onto the ground in a growing pool of blood.

Irabeth, Anevia, and Aron move into the room and into striking distance of the babau - with Anevia and Aron flanking one of the demons.

The Plan is in the Blood - Round 2

Steve retargets a different babau. Sadly, Steve is still lacking in the overcoming magical resistance category.

Roshan continues his slow advance, the slightest furrow noting his concern at the inability to more routinely pierce the demons defenses. It proves to be just enough with the damage done by Samirah seconds before, and one of the two babau flanking the dwarf falls to the ground in a bloody slump.

Konstantin fires another blast of magic missile. But the lesser magic of the wand again proves too weak.

Since it is, once again, demons, Míril opts for her cold iron short sword instead of her adamantium one. She rushes forth to engage the demons. She tumbles past the demon (taking-10 as Miril can) and balancing carefully over the dwarf's fallen body. Her cold iron sword cuts deeply into the demon, a grevious wound.

With the one demon down, Aron repositions himself to flank with the flanked Anevia. (1d20 + 14 ⇒ (14) + 14 = 281d6 + 3 + 3d6 ⇒ (5) + 3 + (1, 6, 5) = 20). Damaged but still on her feet, Anevia's sword also targets the damaged, flanked demon. (1d20 + 16 ⇒ (11) + 16 = 271d6 + 1 + 3d6 ⇒ (5) + 1 + (6, 5, 6) = 23) Both scouts are obviously still trying to pull their weight because both land blows to devastating results - namely killing the babau to filth.

With the nearer babau fallen, Irabeth steps up (1d20 + 15 ⇒ (17) + 15 = 321d8 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 181d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 251d8 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12) and she does not seem pleased about the demon's attack on Anevia, because both of her blows power through the demon's natural amor.

Leaving just one damaged demon in the room with all of you.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Sense Motive dc16: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20

Taking 10 on the Sense Motive because Míril can do that for a 21.

Chancre makes that Sense Motive roll even if he rolls a -2. Skills, yay!

​The Plan is in the Blood - Round 3

For its final attack, Steve targets the final babau. Steve disappears in a puff of disappointment. Chancre carefully approaches the "corpse" of the dwarf.

Samirah looks up with anger in her eyes and a set jaw, resuming the attack on the final babau. Her first attack is wild with her anger, but she manages to refocus and deal a devastating blow with her second.

Apparently Roshan feels one demon in the room is one too many. He concentrates his fire on the last babau. All making contact and two heavy blades again succeeding in breaking through it's defenses. And it is enough to drop the demon in its tracks.

Seeing the final demon fall, the 'dead' dwarf pushes himself into a sitting postion. "Thank you, fiery lass, sorry to play dead, but sometimes its best to let assasins think they've succeeded."

Once Sosiel is certain the demons have been dispatched, he moves up and channels, healing Anevia and dwarf. (3d6 ⇒ (4, 2, 3) = 9) The dwarf's wounds close slightly, although he is still deeply wounded, Anevia nods a thank you to Sosiel and leans against the wall where she can see all three doors, ready to shout a warning if the room is breeched.

The anger passes as quickly as it arrived. "No, that was wise. I am glad they didn't achieve their goal." She looks slightly abashed. "I asked for your brother's name and not yours. What do we call you?"

"Joran," the dwarf says, shrugs, "I didn't really try to get your names either."

Flex
Roshan also moves up, taking advantage of the channel to finish closing the rest of his wounds.

He looks more intently at Anevia and the dwarf, then follows with a questioning sweep at Chancre, Sosiel and Konstantin.

"Joran," the dwarf says, shrugs, "I didn't really try to get your names either."

"Konstantin Argentaev." The way he says it, it's almost like he's actively resisting the urge to add "the Konstantin Argentaev." "Tell us what transpires here, Joran. Those demons were controlled by your brother?"

"They've obeyed his orders since Aponavicius took the majority of her forces south. It's been," he leans against the stone wall, the lines of exhaustion more noticable than before he'd been injured, "actually, I'm not sure how long it has been."

"And I am Samirah Basri." The swashbuckler's bow is evident in her tone. "What work did you do for the demons?"

Roshan nods in the background, though his attention seems to be split between the dwarf and Anevia.

Chancre gives everyone the once-over, assessing relative health. "There's always one more. Are we committed to surviving it?"

"Chancre Cailean," he introduces himself to Joran. "Toil and pain."

"Míril Celegeth," chimes in Míril. "And our silent friend is Roshan," she adds, indicating Roshan.

Roshan nods again, as much to Miril as Joran. As is usually the case (and in direct contrast to) when not signing or otherwise actively trying to communicate, he remains practically expressionless.

"Chancre Cailean," he introduces himself to Joran. "Toil and pain."

"And I am Samirah Basri." The swashbuckler's bow is evident in her tone. "What work did you do for the demons?"

Joran shakes his head, "Not for the demons, for Staunton."

He closes his eyes, the lines on his face softening, a moment of peace reflected, "Staunton was never good with his hands, he needed a forge master, someone to remake the tools of the crusade."

"Work and toil," Chancre says. "And is that an inevitability, a grim task which must be pursued, or a joy to be embraced?"

"Work and toil," Chancre says. "And is that an inevitability, a grim task which must be pursued, or a joy to be embraced?"

Konstantin blinks. "Are you... musing?"

"Nah," Chancre says. "I was asking Joran a theological question."

"Careful," says Míril wryly. "You've seen how theological discussions go in this place. Don't let's get too enthusiastic."

"I ask in full knowledge as one who was killed during a theological discussion."

Samirah observes the discussion with a raised eyebrow, then turns back to Joran. "What will you do now that we have killed a good number of these demons?"

"Work and toil," Chancre says. "And is that an inevitability, a grim task which must be pursued, or a joy to be embraced?"

"A grim task, of course." Joran says, "All of life is a grim task, purposeful toil is just a benefit of proper service."

Samirah observes the discussion with a raised eyebrow, then turns back to Joran. "What will you do now that we have killed a good number of these demons?"

"Given that I'm pretty sure my brother ordered my death?" The dwarf says with a heavy tone, "I'd say that my fate is currently in your hands."

"Given that I'm pretty sure my brother ordered my death?" The dwarf says with a heavy tone, "I'd say that my fate is currently in your hands."

"Consider yourself a prisoner of the *cough cough* Crusade, though further violence does not appear to be necessary. Perhaps we could remand you into Sosiel's custody for the time being while we continue ahead. We would, of course, appreciate any information you had about resistance we are likely to face as we move forward."

"And what is downstairs that your brother and the swashbuckler would be attending to? Would they have fled the city?"

"Consider yourself a prisoner of the *cough cough* Crusade, though further violence does not appear to be necessary. Perhaps we could remand you into Sosiel's custody for the time being while we continue ahead. We would, of course, appreciate any information you had about resistance we are likely to face as we move forward."

The dwarf shrugs at this, resigned. Sosiel nods, straightens, his fingers flexing around the glaive he carries.

"And what is downstairs that your brother and the swashbuckler would be attending to? Would they have fled the city?"

"I only know of two things downstairs," Jordan says, "To the left there is a prison protected by bloodsuckers and to the right is my," for the first time there is sadness rather than apathy at his defection, "the forge." Another pause, "My assistants aye salamanders, and the forge room needs to be incredibly hot for the work, hot enough that without magical protecting you'll burn. Beyond my the forge is more of a complex that Staunton and Aponivcus built, but I've never gone past my forge."

While the group is planning their underground plan of attack, they check the door to the south. The room immediately behind is a well used antechamber, a small hallway that end, oddly for this place, in a recently and messily masoned wall, and finally a small cramped bedroom. Amid the loot you find in the bedroom is a journal. The beginning is written is dwarven, about a third of the way in, the handwriting grows larger and more chaotic, and about three quarters of the way through the writing starts including abyssal, the planar language growing more common until it takes over completely.

"Prison means potential allies and people who might need our help. We should do that first, I think."