"The door from the main room should be safe," Konstantin notes. "Or you could climb up here with me."
Samirah stretches her fingers out. "No claws."
But Samirah never lets a little lack of claws stop her from going where she desires. She slips the scale out of her pocket, uses it to cloudwalk, and levitates up toward Konstantin.
Chancre also looks at the wall, looks at the door, looks at the wall, and uses the scale to cloudwalk as well.
"No claws either," Konstantin observes.
"Only my cutting wit."
Samirah laughs. "A cutting wit is a friendlier tool with which to get things accomplished." She peers down at everyone left on the ground. "Would you like me to throw down a rope, or shall we open the door for you from the other side?"
Being boring and lacking magical flight, Sosiel heads around to take the longer path. Anevia scrambles up the wall with nimble dexterity and Aravashnial just casts levitate on himself. Pan makes a valiant effort to climb the wall, but can't do so without the added support of a rope. After a moment, Pan shakes her head at Samirah's offer, but with a just a hint of eye contact which would pass for a smile for the laconic tiefling. Instead she quickly runs to catch up with Sosiel taking the longer path.
Samirah salutes Pan and smiles a little, then welcomes Anevia and Aravashnial to the ledge party.
Everyone in or looking into the room, Konstantin points out the two points that bubble with transmutation energy. The marilith statue has yet to show any sign of movement.
The marilith statue carries the demon's innate vicious superiority, but instead of the typical six longswords, she caries a katana, a khopesh, a falcata, a kusari gama, and a shotel. Head spines run down the center of her head, keeping the lush long locks of hair from being mistaken for sexy. As you move into the room, it seems as if the eyes follow you.
Konstantin reveals the information under the spoiler as he leads the way along the ledge toward the exit. At the edge, he'll hop down to go through it.
"Can one of us cloud walk a rope across to the Exit? To avoid the potential danger points? "
Chancre looks at the statue. "Think we should tell her that the forces are routed, or let it be a surprise?"
Konstantin reveals the information under the spoiler as he leads the way along the ledge toward the exit. At the edge, he'll hop down to go through it.
As Konstantin gets to the point of lurking transmutation energy the wall glows with a demonic mauve light. ( ) The energy slams into the dragon sending him flying off the ledge, past the lower ledge and towards the floor on which the marilith statue stands.
And then right through the floor. Although he manages to snag a lip of stone, leaving him partially through the floor.
A grumpy Konstantin casts fly and moves back up to the lip.
"The floor is illusory," he exposits. "And there is a pit of green slime at the bottom."
With the tricks and tribulations of the room revealed, everyone is able to traverse to the exit safely. Opening the door reveals...
darkness.
Darkness so deep that even those who vision pierces the night can not see.
Konstantin regards the darkness for a moment. He's not mad at it. He's just kind of disappointed.
He casts a spell.
Caster level check
The north and south walls of this almost natural cave features alcoves containing large, jagged purple crystals on pedestals. A seventh crystal sits on a seventh pedestal to the east, just behind a marble slab on which a careless heap of red fabric lies in a crumple. Two statues of demonic figures flack the slab in large alcoves. The alcove to the north features a goat-headed winged demon while the one to the south holds a insectoid horror armed with a scythe.
Perches next to the fabric on the altar is - Aron. His grin is completely at ease and he waves a cocky wave. "Guess what I found?"
Aron also reeks of evil.
"Statues of Baphomet and Deskari?" Konstantin asks. Though he is far too stoic to say anything, his long time companions can tell he is in some discomfort. "This place is evil," he mutters.
"Even Aron," Chancre says. "This place is hangover incarnate."
"You found a pony?" Chancre calls his guess to Aron.
Samirah watches Konstantin plummet, catch himself, and fly out of the trap. She laughs. "Perhaps you should be going through doors first from now on."
You know she's joking, because of course she's going to continue going through doors first.
When they move into the room of Oppressive Evil, Samirah at first looks as though she might shrink and fold in on herself in the weight of it, but shakes it off and stands tall, chin up and rests her hands on her hips. And scimitar hilt.
"Statues of Baphomet and Deskari?"
"You found a pony?"
"You found a room filled with garbage for us to remove?"
A bit of a self-directed laugh, "It felt like forever, but it was only few days." He pauses maybe realizing how that sounds, "I didn't have to stay, and I knew there were others checking on me to make sure I was alright, but that was how long it took until I knew that art was something that was mine."
She nods in response, relaxing her posture further. "It is a different kind of darkness," she agrees, "but darkness nonetheless. I..." she hesitates, looking less embarrassed and more like she's not sure of the words she's searching for. "I look up to you, I think. I would hope to find my own light in the darkness, and to remember the beauty around me even when I cannot see it." She wrinkles her nose. "I am a little biased, I still think the Plane of Fire is more beautiful than this place."
She smiles, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you for humoring me."
"You shouldn't do that. She a very nice, giving person. Now she got upset with me for no reason and sent me to be blood-sucker food but you can't hold things like that against a beautiful woman." He smiles rakishly at Samiarh, "Just like I'm happy to forgive you leaving me chained here for your protection."
"Well, she will have the chance to show us her kindness and generosity later. Unfortunately, when we found her, we found her working with demons." She shoots a similarly rakish grin back at the man. "And if it made you feel better, I would be willing to stand trial for leaving you here."
Without further ado, she unchains him. She doesn't have her hands on her weapon... but she's also on high alert for shenanigans.
"I would like to escort you to our camp and make introductions, make sure you get settled in better accommodations, if you would not mind the company on the walk."
Chancre squares his shoulders, and walks toward Aron. "Tell me about it," he says.
As Chancre starts to move, Aron bounces easily to his feet onto of the marble slab, pacing back and forth, barely avoiding treading on the dusty yet not -faded red fabric. With one foot he motions to the object, "Worse than garbage," he says with a cocksure grin, "Iomeadae's rag."
He cracks his knuckles, "And I know what shenanigans Aponavicius had been up to in her little fortress."
"So I guess it depends on what you are interested in and what you are willing to give on. "
"Can you hum a few bars?"
Chancre continues to approach slowly. "Start from the beginning, please," he says. "And be sure to include what you want."
The jovial attitude breaking to reveal a more serious demeanor.
Shaking his head, "I've been doing this a long time and I'm not a f$%!ing idiot. If you want the information and are willing to trade for it, then you can tell me the price you are willing to pay." His head moves, a tight smile distorting his face, "But if you take another oh-so-conciliatory step or any more of this bullshit, I'll just take what I already have and call it quits."
"You believe I will let you leave this room without telling me everything I wish to know?" Konstantin asks. He really wants to know. He's genuinely confused.
"If I wish to leave, you'd be impuissant, dragon-boy." A little smile, "After all, your kind doesn't have the best track record of keeping what you hold dear safe."
A fake shiver, "Even when you lock it in ice."
"So the question is three-fold - do you want to know what you are really up against, do you want the rag, and do you want the loser who came when I called?"
The temperature around Konstantin seems to drop. "Yes, but I would not mind if you were damaged. Extensively."
Samirah's smile is no where to be seen as she turns to her companions. "Demonic influence? Something that can be broken?"
She keeps her voice low, and her eyes keep darting to Sosiel.
Aron laughs, the sound reflecting off of the cavern walls, "I'm sure you wouldn't even mind if I were killed."
He pulls out a knife, laying it against the pulse point of his right arm, "I bet you wouldn't even care if you killed this body, cold-hearted bastard that you are."
"But" he says, "the real question is, what is really in your best interest?"
Samirah's smile is no where to be seen as she turns to her companions. "Demonic influence? Something that can be broken?"
She keeps her voice low, and her eyes keep darting to Sosiel.
"You appear to be correct, искра." He turns to Chancre. "Tell me, are you an exorcist?"
"Surely we can have a discussion without the need to threaten bodily harm." Samirah doesn't bother with a fake smile when she turns back to talk to Aron, but she does inject some warmth into her voice.
"I came back to help you return safely to us... to Sosiel. That is my first priority."
"The answers are yes to all of your questions," Chancre says. "But asking us for offers is useless when we don't know who we're dealing with. We know who you're wearing. Who are you?"
Chancre shrugs, a little what can you do? "Or what do you want? So we can offer something useful."
"Awww..." Aron's voice is all saccharine sweetness, "you just want the little f~*% buddies to get back together."
He motions with the knife, "It isn't a bad goal, persay, although honestly, the little f@%+wad is messed up. Really not sure if the dingy grey remains of his soul are even worth saving."
He hands up, "But at least you understand the whole dynamics of negotiation. You want the idiot's body back, so now what will you give me for it?" All of the fake sweetness gone, Aron's voice is now quite serious.
"The answers are yes to all of your questions," Chancre says. "But asking us for offers is useless when we don't know who we're dealing with. We know who you're wearing. Who are you?"
"I wouldn't mind trading body for body, but I'm old enough to know that isn't going to be a deal you'll stick with. How about the body for a pint of blood from each of you?"
He smiles, "I'm willing to entertain other offers, but its about worth for worth."
"We know who you're wearing. Who are you?"
Aron chuckles, "I'm the shadow that slips through the cracks of righteousness and finds the dissent that brews. I fuel that."
"Obviously not my real name, but if you need to call me something, you can call me Ernie."
"The only deal we are making concerns your life. Kill Aron, you die. Leave him alive, you live. It is very simple." Konstantin has regained his composure somewhat, though his companions can tell it is a real act of willpower that has not done anything awful to both demon and host.
"I do not believe Aron would want a demon making mischief in his skin either, so attempt to leave inside of it, and you die. Reveal any information you have, or you die."
He pauses.
"Please let me know if I am going too fast."
"You're going too fast," Chancre says. "I was also going to offer him a drink. I'm not entirely sure that I believe Ernie has any knowledge of Aponavicius' shenanigans."
"Sorry, Ernie. I'd be taking the word of an admitted body-snatcher on that one."
Konstantin cedes the floor. "Speak with it, if you must. I will give it nothing." He locks eyes with Aron, the full force of the dragon of winter behind them. "Not even mercy."
With that, Konstantin steps away, ready with a spell should the thing decide to be stupid.
"Thanks, chief," Chancre acknowledges taking the floor.
"I was also going to offer him a drink. I'm not entirely sure that I believe Ernie has any knowledge of Aponavicius' shenanigans."
Ernie wearing Aron chuckles, "I love that I gave you the benefit of skill and intelligence but you think to have me blab my bargaining chips to prove I have them."
He tilts his head to one side, "I can be a very good actor. This one came quite willingly before you killed off Staunton and captured Chourssina. I could have just wandered up to your campsite."
He nods, "Yes, you all would have figured out the druggie was just along for the ride, but I could have done some nice damage and slipped into the Worldwound before it all went south."
"If I was an idiot I could have pulled the 'oh you found me' ploy but I have respect for your skills. A little reciprocity would be damn well appreciated. Otherwise it is just you all trying to kill me and hurting yourself in the process."
He raises one hand, "But on the grounds that I'm not as much of a dick as some of you - Soltengrabbe. Had we a monster like that around for years, wouldn't Zuhra have used the creature in offense. The poor thing could have frozen villages solid."
He smiles, "Wouldn't you like to know how she did it?"
Chancre chokes off a laugh mid-speech. "Chorussina? Really? Sorry, Ernie. Please continue."
At the end of the speech, Chancre shrugs. "It was worth a try. I want to know all about these things, but my first priority is getting that guy back. I don't think any of my comrades here are giving up their blood, so that's off the table. Souls are spoken for. That leaves information. Chime in if you want to interrupt. Otherwise I'm just talking to myself out loud."
"What do you want to know? Nothing prosaic, like troop movements. That doesn't seem like your style. If I knew which faction you represented amongst the Abyssal, I could maybe offer up some information toward internal divisions. Helps you, helps me. But that's not what you're after. You could have nipped out and into the Worldwound, like you said, but you didn't. Why not? What do we have that you want? Other than to plant the little seed of dissension, et cetera, be Ernie at us. But I think there's more to it than that. So tell me, Ernie, other than trying to provoke us into killing your host, or possibly distract us while something else is going on elsewhere," Chancre looks over his shoulder and back at Aron/Ernie, "what's up?"
"Information is always a good coin." Ernie smiles widely with Aron's mouth. "How about a question for question? First one to lie or attempt to mislead breaks the parley."
He laces his fingers beneath his chin, "Then your cold-blooded hot-head can try to kill me."
"First question is to you."
He raises an eyebrow, "My motives? Are you certain you want your first question to be so pointless?"
Chancre pauses. "I suppose not. I'll do question for question. You mentioned earlier that we might want to know what we were really up against. What are we really up against?"
"Not first hand knowledge to be fair since I don't work for that prick," vaguely gesturing with Aron's chin to the insectoid statue in the southern alcove. "The abyssal rifts are his baby." Aron's face goes serious, "End of the day that one wants more. More food for his mindless hordes, more power, more everything."
"The stalemate has been good for my boss, we are all about bringing you around to our way of thinking. Now that you all put an end to the cage that kept us locked into this itty-bitty land, all the plans are changing. Slow attrition will turn into outright devastation soon."
He pauses, "And just so you don't think I'm trying to obfuscate the answer, if you don't die before he gets his ducks in a row, the Lord of the Locust Host is what you are up against."
He looks around the room considering, "There should be four of you that reek of power. Where is the half-elf?"
Chancre scratches his head. "Half-elf? Oh, Merle. Heading back to Kenabres. Soltengrabbe. How did she do it?"
"I will be honest with you. I am curious if Chorussina named herself that, or if it was a punishment from the one she serves -- but I'm not wasting a capital-Q Question on that."
Samirah is at Chancre's side, letting him lead the discussion until he seems disinclined to continue asking questions or runs out of them.
"I will be honest with you. I am curious if Chorussina named herself that, or if it was a punishment from the one she serves -- but I'm not wasting a capital-Q Question on that."
But at this comment, she looks at him sideways.
"Does 'Chorussina' mean something in this language I am not familiar with?" Her voice is almost a whisper.
Samirah is at Chancre's side, letting him lead the discussion until he seems disinclined to continue asking questions or runs out of them.
"Chorussina is a silly name," Chancre whispers back.
"Chorussina is a silly name," Chancre whispers back.
Konstantin offers a stern nod in agreement.
Samirah nods as well. "I agree."
Aron's eyes go all black for a brief moment, the face serious. Then Aron's mouth smiles, "Zuhra was gifted with six of seven elixirs. She feed one to her pet chimera, Soltengrabbe. After a... painful... transition period, the beast of Drezen was reborn. Stronger, faster and with a breath weapon that called on the true fury of a ice storm rather than just cold wind."
"Why were you sent to Drezen rather than confronting Zuhra or Khorramzadeh?"
One eyebrow goes up, "I always thought Chourssina was a lyrical name. I suspect that her parents gave it to her before her abyssal heritage became apparent."
A shrug, "Maybe that's one of the reason why she found solace amid my kind. Mortals are infinitely cruel."