Well that could have gone better. "You guys are the champions for a reason huh? You guys are the best. Humble in victory, and, uh, gracious in victory. Please don't hurt me."
So . . . do the refs call it? Good game. Loads of fun.
Evalee is going to ready an action to cast grease beneath anyone who tries to approach her or Pogug, the only remaining members of her team.
No no no no no no no no Sephy . . . Evalee begins the full round casting time of Lesser Rejuvenate Eidolon, hoping that Semsephiel isn't too badly hurt.
Semsephiel's eyes snap open and he rolls to his feet, ignoring the pain that comes being cooked alive. () The halfling with the flaming mask looks injured serves him right and it seems like it would be a good idea to take him down before he can drop Semsephiel again. And, Semsephiel is kind of a little bit vindictive. Kind of a lot bit, actually. I'll deal with Simeon later . . . I hope.
"That hurt. Let me return the favor."
Semsephiel moves forward far enough that no one can escape his reach without lowering their guard. He knows that it'll attract attention though, and doesn't like his odds.
Ashyr takes a step in front of Zeera, putting a hand protectively on her waist as he moves to interpose himself between her and the remaining challengers, perhaps trying to make ensure that she does not step into the path of his swinging weapon. He quickly removes the hand though, as the chain wrapped around it is again set alight, fire burning along its entire length. Semsephiel can feel the heat radiating from the weapon, or is it coming from the halfling himself? Semsephiel thinks he can see a faint glow coming from behind the eyes of the mask.
He swings the flaming chain in an alternating pattern. Left, right, left. This motion almost forms a shield, enclosing not only himself, but Zeera as well. For a moment, it looks like he is going to try to entangle the two chained weapons, then he swings it down diagonally, bringing it up behind him and around above the two halflings' heads. He lets out a little slack, just enough for the chain to reach Semsephiel.
The hot end of the chain whips across Semsephiel's body, then quickly swings around and does it again, the second time lower and faster than the first. As Semsephiel again falls to the ground, Ashyr returns the still flaming chain to its blocking pattern.
Nathaniel dropped his dagger, attempting to flip and twist his way away from the massive Halador. There’s a small, logical part of his mind that tells him there is nothing to be afraid of...well, besides being pounded into oblivion, but the irrational fear takes hold and keeps his feet moving away from his opponent. He looked at Evalee and Pogug with shame in his eyes, trying hard to master himself, but only regained control when he had gotten quite far away from the trunk-wielding prize fighter.
Pogug reloads his crossbow, then steps out and fires it at Halador.
Pogug's arrow again bounces harmlessly off of Halador's armor. The goblin succeeds only in annoying the huge man, who charges toward him, still swinging his club back and forth.
WHOOOM! WHOOOM!
The massive club finally makes contact, striking a glancing blow up the side of the goblin's bulbous head. Pogug's teeth resonate from the impact.
Simeon moves slowly, a stalking predator anticipating the kill. He circles north of Zeera and Ashyr to surround the remaining challengers while Zeera dismisses the conjured pit. Simeon's two heads let out a low growl in unison. This may not last much longer...
Last spell.
It's a long shot, to be sure. Evalee is almost certain that her very near future involves being beaten senseless. Toughen up. Fighting in the arena builds character.
As she suspected, nothing came of it. It wasn't enough to revive Semsephiel. Sorry about that. Now she wonders if maybe she could have found some creative use for grease or mount. She knows that she couldn't have, that even if she could it would have been a delaying tactic at best, but still she wonders.
With commendable calm, she wraps her hands behind the delicate back of her head and waits for the end. Don't be melodramatic, it isn't like you're going to die. She still resolves to feign unconsciousness at earliest convenience.
As Evalee moves to revive Semsephiel, Simeon stretches out his neck to bite the young summoner.
Evalee narrowly avoid Simeon's outstretched teeth as she moves to Semsephiel's side. When she reaches him she shuts her eyes and whispers the arcane words, giving Simeon yet another opportunity to interrupt her.
As she finishes the spell, she ducks down suddenly, crouching to reach the ancient devil's fallen form. She can feel Simeon's hot breath as the Simeon's jaws snap shut in the space she was occupying not half a second earlier.
Semsephiel's singed flesh shows just the slightest change back toward its original color. His chest heaves and his eyes shoot open.
Semsephiel struggles to his feet, again. Some detached part of him notes that his clothes have seen better days. Better, less fiery days. Days in which holes weren't burned through them.
A less detached part of him is wondering how he can possibly turn this fight around. He is more or less surrounded, and his summoner is exposed. He decides to attack the flame-wielding halfling, hopefully putting him out of this fight. Maybe then he can defend himself against the melee opponents . . .
(+1 bloodrage, +1 morale) half damage 5
half damage 3
When Semsephiel attempts to stand, Ashyr whips his fiery chain across him a third time.
The gaunt devil looks more frail than nightmarish as he slumps to the ground for a third time.
As Semsephiel's body falls again to the hard-packed dirt, Evalee finds herself eye to masked, softly glowing eye with the fire-wielding halfling. For a moment, she is transfixed by the heat visibly rising from him as his fiery chain swings through the air in a long arc, seeming to move in slow-motion. She is struck by the thought that this is not a good place to be standing at this moment.
She watches as the masked face dips slightly toward the ground, then begins abruptly to twist away from her. What seems like minutes later, though it must only be a fraction of a second, the jet-black torso follows suit, beginning to rise into the air. Eventually, the bent but ever-straightening legs leave the ground. They twist the fastest of all, though they have a lot of catching up to do. Is he getting closer?
As she watches his toes lift into the air, she realizes that those eyes are on her once again, having come nearly full-circle. She is now certain that they are glowing, flickering like sideways candle flames. The torso follows, twisting in the air, the flaming chain trailing behind it, and extension of the black-clad arm. He is at the apex of his jump, and the deadly chain bends gracefully through the air, the trail of flames stretching out behind it.
His descent accelerates. As his toes near the ground, she can tell that he is definitely closer. Is he close enough? The end of the chain is careening toward her now, but the way he's holding it, it looks like the swing will come up short.
His grip tightens, and the muscles in his smooth arms can be seen flexing beneath their dark second skin. He's pulling the chain back! Has he changed his mind?
Then Evalee realizes, the chain may not be coming toward her anymore, but the flames have not changed course. There is now a burning string of... nothing... twisting through the air, barreling toward her. There is no demon, no devil, no servent from hell to protect her now.
Her eyes lock shut. Her face turns away. Her arms move to shield the delicate skin of her cheek.
She can feel the wall of intense heat overtaking her. Is this what Semsephiel's home is like? The fire is almost solid. Her feet are no longer beneath her. Her lunch rises in her stomach. Everything is dark. She doesn't even feel it when she hits the ground.
Recovering his wits and courage and seeing the pretty summoner struck down by the deadly halfling brought a grimace to Nathaniel’s face, quickly replaced by determination. He darted past Halador, pulling a dagger with his offhand as he sped along, getting closer to his quarry. He stopped suddenly, squaring his feet to keep his aim on track before letting another of his exquisite daggers fly at Ashyr, the young man quickly flipping the other dagger to his right hand.
Ashyr lands in a crouched position, retracting is chain from the blow that struck Evalee down. As this is happening, Nathaniel moves to come at him from the side.
Nathaniel lets his dagger fly, turning end-over-end through the air toward the masked halfling. As Ashyr returns to his standing position, knees slightly bent, he begins to turn his face to investigate the positions and dispositions of the remaining challengers. He spots a glint of metal out of the corner of his masks eye, but before he can react, the dagger buries itself deep in his right buttock. His leg begins to buckle, and for a moment it will look like he will fall, but he finds a new footing, favoring his right leg. A muffled profanity can be heard from beneath the halfling's mask.
Pogug backs away from the large man in front of him, reloading and firing another bolt.
Pogug hops back, narrowly avoiding Halador's swing as he looses another arrow. Again, it bounces harmlessly off Halador's armor. The rush of air across the club is almost enough to knock Pogug onto his fundament. The smug Goblin closes his eyes and sticks out his tongue, but he fails to account for the Haste spell, that is still affecting Halador. He steps up and swings again.
And that's the last thing the goblin hears.
The dread on Zeera's face at Ashyr's injury is palpable. It looks like it would hurt her less if the knife had struck her. For a moment, she doesn't know what to do.
Ashyr, on the other hand, knows exactly what to do. Wrapping the chain around his left arm, he pulls it taut, drawing the flaming spike into his outstretched fist. The fire in the eyes of his mask flashes brighter, and a burst of heat spreads out from him in all directions, carrying a jet of flame from the spike toward Nathaniel.
The fire envelopes him, and without the effects of Pogug's song, Nathaniel doesn't have to stamina to go on. He drops to his knees, wavers for a moment, struggling to maintain consciousness. His eyes roll back in his head, and he slumps to the ground.
Nathaniel is the first to wake. He has been moved inside one of the smaller tents. He still hurts all over. He and his compatriots have been gathered in a loose pile on the ground except for Semsephiel, who disappeared as soon as Evalee lost consciousness.
When he looks up, he sees the angelic Zeera first. She is facing mostly away from him, inspecting Ashyr's wounds. You're sure you're ok? she asks, with evident worry in her voice.
Her pauldrons are gone, lying on the ground nearby, and she begins unlacing her armor and wriggling out of it, then puts her foot up on a small chest, bending forward to loosen the laces of her boots. When her head lowers, Ashyr's mask comes into view, the eyes meeting Nathaniel's. Getting a good look? the muffled voice asks.
Nathaniel winced as he struggled to his side, viewing all his defeated companions strewn about like discarded toys. The healer had done his work, thankfully, though the young man still felt the heat on his skin from the flames that had laid him low. Hopefully he didn't have any burn scars...he didn't want to be known for a scarred face.
The juggler's eyes focused on the rather pleasant sight of Zeera as she fussed over Ashyr, the young man shaking his head in disbelief. How the halfling man had managed to remain standing after all the punishment he had taken defied belief. It looked like he was paying for it now, at any rate.
Nathaniel's eyes widened as the woman's revealing clothing revealed even more as it came off, the pale blue sundress outlining her figure well. He was about to clear his throat when Ashyr met his gaze and asked his question, the young man getting rather indignant. She was undressing in a tent with a pile of people inside...surely privacy wasn't expected. "A great look, actually. Until just now." He grinned at the halfling man, but instantly felt bad about the comment. He hadn't meant to make the woman uncomfortable...but Nathaniel had always been quick to shove his foot in his mouth, and time had changed that little.
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Ooooooooh shots fired.
Evalee briefly weighs whether this would be a wise thing to say aloud, and decides that it most certainly would not.
"Oooooooooh shots fired." That was probably not the smartest thing I have done today.
She tries to prop herself up on one shoulder, decides that it hurts too much, and doesn't. "Hi. I'm Evalee! I'm new here. Pleasure to meet you." She's trying to think of something to say to make up for her blunder, but can't think of anything. She wishes Semsephiel were here to pick up the conversation.
Ashyr's head dips forward, and a black-clad hand comes up to grip the mask. Lifting it off and pulling back the hood, Nathaniel sees a shock messy hair dyed bright red. It is cropped close at the sides, with dark roots visible. When the halfling's head comes back up, shooting Nathaniel a perturbed look, the face is not what Nathaniel expected.
Ashyr has pale skin and a small, snub nose flanked by narrow eyes that are just a bit too close together, above a narrow mouth with full lips. Hard-looking cheekbones sit atop a narrow, angular jaw. A thin metal ring pierces one of her long, thin eyebrows.
"Oooooooooh shots fired." That was probably not the smartest thing I have done today.
When Evalee speaks up, the rest of the group begins, one by one, to groggily open their eyes, immediately feeling the pain of their wounds, which have not yet been healed.
Nathaniel cocked his head in surprise upon discovering that Ashyr was a woman, though otherwise made no remark upon the fact. Of course, he is saved from any further of a stare down by Evalee’s timely comment. The young man closing his eyes for a moment was the only indication that he thought perhaps adding fuel to the flames was a poor idea. Still, he could only blame himself, as he had made the verbal jab the young woman had quipped about.
Nathaniel can only chuckle as Evalee then introduced herself, waiting for her awkward introduction’s completion before adding, ”Nathaniel. Great job out there.” This last part was added grudgingly, but there was no denying the effectiveness of the champion team.
Ashak sits up and looks around slowly, feigning a yawn, which quickly turns into a regretful stretch as he realizes how sore he is. "I take it the rest of you fared about as well I did then? Pleasure to to meet you, champions, now that your two-headed friend has pummeled me into the ground. Where's the big one? Halador."
Zeera turns her head to look behind her. She gives an amused smile that is mostly in her eyes. Oh, calm down, Ash, she says, turning back to finish freeing her foot from the long boot. She stands, wiggling her newly-freed toes, then takes a step to the left before bending down to unlace the other boot, this time providing a less explicit view of her backside.
Once both feet are free, she reaches both hands above her head and lifts up on her toes, arching her back as she stretches her entire body before addressing the challengers. Sorry about the soreness. Healing in front of the audience is bad showmanship. Now that you're up, we can go see Doc. Can everybody walk? If not, Halador can carry you. Her cheerful voice is at odds with the fact that the last thing you all remember is her and her companions beating the living pulp out of each of you.
Ashyr continues to eye Nathaniel menacingly, but says nothing more.
Pogug awakes with a start, putting his hands in his mouth. Moving them in it for a few moments, he looks satisfied and moves off of the bed. "Teeth still there," he says smugly, as if simply having them is some form of accomplishment. He pats down his face, feeling for any possible injury. Despite the apparent bruises across his face, Pogug remarks "Pogug is fine. Pogug unbreakable!"
Hearing of this "Doc," Pogug frowns. "Dog? Pogug hate dog!."
Sorry about the soreness. Healing in front of the audience is bad showmanship. Now that you're up, we can go see Doc. Can everybody walk? If not, Halador can carry you.
"Speaking of which," Erin mutters from the ground of the tent, "Ow." She slowly clambers to her feet, wincing as she puts weight on a sprained ankle. Erin stares at the champions with an expression of vague curiosity, her earlier bravado entirely gone. "Does it ever get easier?" she asks flatly, turning between Ashyr and Zeera. "All the getting hurt, I mean." Her eyes flicker to the gash her own blade left in Ashyr's side, and she grimaces. "And the hurting each other."
Turning to Ashak, the young man nodded. ”Almost as well. We got treated to a lot more fire. The redhead over there likes the fire.”
Nathaniel gave Pogug a bemused glance, glad to see the goblin was alright. Such confidence certainly helped in the face of being soundly smacked down.
Nate winced as his face moved, feeling the heat rising from the burns surely there. Determined to not be scarred (any more than necessary), he makes ready to go see Doc. Occasionally he glanced at Zeera and Ashyr, offering shy smiles to the one, more brittle grind to the other.
Ashak shudders a bit as Nathaniel mentions Ashyr, he shoots the halfling a weary glance.
"can't say i'm sorry to have missed that, you may have noticed but I have plenty of burns to last the rest of my life and I'd like to avoid adding to my collection."
The battered hobgoblin scratches at a particularly nasty burn scar on his neck as he speaks. His voice is jovial, but there's a hint of pain behind the cheer.
Climbing to his feet Ashak claps Erin on the back. "The hurting always hurts, but you get used to it. Some people even seem to develop a taste for it. But at least we all get to stand back up afterwards. I count myself lucky to have met these fine folks here rather than back home."
Come on, let's get you healed up. Zeera steps out of the tent, now barefoot, and wearing nothing but the thin sundress, which flaps in the breeze. She pauses for a moment, savoring the feel of the grass between her toes and the sun on her skin. This way.
She leads you to the eastern edge of the clearing, furthest from the road, and from the sea beyond. There, you find five boxy wagons, arranged roughly in a row. She leads you behind them and along the row. You see no sign of horses to pull the carts. They must be elsewhere.
A bit further along the treeline, you see a sixth wagon, separate from the others. This one is a bit larger. Its smooth walls are painted dark grey (or were they once white?) and stained with soot. A stovepipe protrudes from the top. Zeera approaches and knocks on the door.
You hear a rustling that sounds like someone walking over dry leaves and kicking glass bottles that clink against one another. A shutter in the door slides open, and bloodshot eyes peer out. Oh, it's you. You recognize the voice of the man you healed you yesterday. The shutter slides closed and you hear a bit more rustling before the door swings outward. A mostly-empty bottle falls through the doorway and breaks into several pieces on the ground below. The dark contents smell foul and alcoholic. Come on in, Doc says, and then retreats into the shadows.
When you climb the foldable stairs, you find the interior surprisingly spacious, though it quickly grows cramped as you all squeeze inside. It doesn't help that the floor is littered with crumpled papers and bottles. Some of the bottles look like they are made for storing potions, or possibly ingredients for brewing them, but many clearly once held distilled spirits or cheap wine.
A narrow table is built into one wall. Behind it sits a rack of small vials and jars. Labels like "Cinnamon", "Thyme" and "Peppercorns" are interspersed with ones like "Brimstone", "Arsenic" and "Brain mold Spores". A disturbing number of the labels are smudged, faded beyond legibility, or missing entirely. Next to that, a small cauldron sits atop a wood burning stove. Various flasks and vials of exotic shapes and curled metallic tubing hang above it.
"Hmmmmmmmm . . ." Evalee says, picking up a jar. "Brain mold spores." She puts the jar back. "I'm curious. What does one actually use this for?"
The silence stretches on. It feels like it's been days since anyone's said a word.
"While we're healing people, mind if I summon Semsephiel? He's in a bad way, and hell isn't very conducive to long-term health. Also, if anyone knows mending, I'd appreciate a casting." She looks at the hole burned through her wizardly robes. "And Semsephiel's robes have probably seen better days . . ." She feels guilty, knowing that it's in no small part her fault that Semsephiel got cooked. It was her idea to join the carnival . . .
Limping along after the others to the wagons, Erin pauses to scoop up Chi's limp body from the ground below. He stirs feebly, nose twitching in discomfort.
As they enter the last wagon, Erin gives a low whistle, turning in a half-circle to take in the walls full of vials and flasks.
"Hmmmmmmmm . . ." Evalee says, picking up a jar. "Brain mold spores." She puts the jar back. "I'm curious. What does one actually use this for?"
"Our next performance, no doubt," Erin offers with a wry smile, "judging by the trend of the last two."
Nathaniel took it all in stride as they walked into the messy area, glancing about in curiosity. Carnival folk were an eccentric bunch, and usually weren't too interested in hygiene or cleanliness. A life spent on the road for some people meant not wasting time on what they considered trivialities, like cleaning and bathing.
The young man winced as a particular burn on his face flared up, the skin throbbing. He avoided any mirrors, knowing his features would be lobster red. Hopefully the man would have a potion or salve that would help with that.
As Evalee and Erin mention the brain mold spores, Nate smiles nervously, but edged no closer to the jar. He didn't exactly know what that was, but he doubted it was anything pleasant. Truthfully, he'd rather spend as little time in here as possible. Just because he was used to eccentric folk didn't mean he cared for the crazier of them.
Ashak looks around him warily. "Well i've been in worse infirmaries"
"Hmmmmmmmm . . ." Evalee says, picking up a jar. "Brain mold spores." She puts the jar back. "I'm curious. What does one actually use this for?"
You really shouldn't touch that stuff, Doc says, grabbing the small jar out of Evalee's hand as he lets out a burp that reeks of cheap liquor. It's beyond your reasoning. He takes ahold of it just a bit too forcefully, and for a moment you're afraid he'll knock the vessel to the ground and spill is contents, then he shoves it into one of his coat's many pockets.
"While we're healing people, mind if I summon Semsephiel? He's in a bad way, and hell isn't very conducive to long-term health. Also, if anyone knows mending, I'd appreciate a casting." She looks at the hole burned through her wizardly robes. "And Semsephiel's robes have probably seen better days . . ."
Make it quick. I haven't got all day. He begins to search his various pockets, then asks distractedly, Hey, hey Shorty, have you seen the thing?
You begin to wonder who he is referring to, one of the halflings, maybe? Or Pogug? Then a high-pitched voice squeaks out from a dark shelf on the opposite wall. No. A previously unseen creature leans forward into the dim illumination. His head is as large as a human's, but is at eye-level only because of the elevation of the shelf on which he stands. In actuality, he stands only about knee-high. His large black-in-black eyes stare out at you disturbingly, with a maniacally friendly look on his expressive face. His grin is full of large, square teeth, and its edges nearly reach his earlobes.
Hi. the creature adds, staring unblinkingly into Evalee's eyes.
Having gradually woken up, Chi startles at the appearance of the strange creature. He leaps wearily from Erin's shoulder to a nearby shelf, peering up at the creature with curiosity.
At this point, Erin breaks the awkward silence. "So I get that there's a bit more to this carnival than meets the eye," she remarks, turning to Doc, "but what exactly do you do here?" Her tone is polite and friendly, but her expression displays more focus than she's had since waking up from the fight. "The ten second version, if you'd like, seeing as you haven't got all day."
"You really shouldn't touch that stuff. It's beyond your reasoning."
Evalee is affronted. "Of course it's 'beyond my reasoning.' If I knew what it was for, I wouldn't be asking you."
"Hi."
"Oh! Hello there. It's a pleasure to meet. I'm Evalee. It's good to meet you. Are you a homunculus?"
Evalee will begin the ritual to summon Semsephiel, and presumably complete it sixty second later. He isn't conscious, but the cramped space is just that much more cramped.
Rubbing his bite Gingerly, Ashak speaks with a rough chuckle, but it seems to most more annoyed and humorous. you gonna patch us up doc? Not to rush you but I was mauled thoroughly just a bit ago, and I'm feeling quite like a large chew toy."
Pogug hisses at the creature, clearly displeased by his presence. Cautious, he seems to hide behind Ashak's leg, peeking out tentatively. He turns to the Doc instead. "Hurrys up!" Pogug shouts, discomforted by his surroundings.
Nathaniel just sighed, settling in for a wait in case the man happened to be rather wordy, hoping none of the rather heated portions of his face developed any scar tissue in the mean time. After Evalee summoned Semsephiel, the young man scooted away from the unconscious demon-thing, finding a relatively clear patch to stand in as he waited to be 'patched up'.
"So I get that there's a bit more to this carnival than meets the eye," she remarks, turning to Doc, "but what exactly do you do here?" Her tone is polite and friendly, but her expression displays more focus than she's had since waking up from the fight. "The ten second version, if you'd like, seeing as you haven't got all day."
Doc looks a little perturbed at this line of questioning, though as far as you can tell, that might be his default state. He replies in a condescending tone. I keep you alive and looking pretty, for starters.
"Oh! Hello there. It's a pleasure to meet. I'm Evalee. It's good to meet you. Are you a homunculus?"
The tiny humanoid creature giggles in response. Hehehehe. Nope. Then he pulls out a needle and thread and begins working on the damaged areas of your clothing. He spends only a moment on each spot that is burned or torn, but somehow when he's done, there is no sign that the damage ever occurred. Your garments come out looking better than before, the severed threads made one again, and fabric that was burned away seeming to regenerate from nothing. When necessary, he yanks on a your arm to get you to bend down so that he can reach.
While Semsephiel is being summonned and Shorty is doing his work, Doc again searches for the white device with the green gem. When he finds it, you feel the strange green energy wash over you again, leaving you feeling like you need a shower, but otherwise in much better shape. Your wounds close, and the pink, burned skin returns to its original color.
A second wave follows, shortly after the first.