The shadowknight was shocked when he heard the whispered conversation taking place beside him. They had a magic way out, a stone from what he had picked up.
Velkuriss turns his dark blue gaze to the elven female. He bows slightly.
"My word still stands. I agreed to see you safely back home," Velkuriss whispers to the princess. "And I shall."
Markus whispers " You have my thanks, I will stay with the others and ensure that the princess, makes it back home." Markus takes the stone and stands with the other's, ready to say the Words that Kwen whispered to him to whisk, Velkuriss, Kspress, Firiona, and himself away.
Kwen whispers to Sajeek " This is going to be fun!" with a sarcastic waggle of his eye ridges, the rogue starts to get a tale ready, hoping for the best, he waits for everyone to take their assigned roles. ' This is it, time to roll the bones and hope that we get lucky again. ' the rogue thinks to himself.
Kspress isn't sure what's going on. The others were here to rescue the elf, yet they are now trusting complete strangers, probable criminals, to take her out and take care of her.
Perhaps it is time to go with the flow of fate, just accept. Certainly, staying here is not to be considered, and with the guards converging, things looked much worse than a moment ago.
He takes up his equipment, follows the instructions, and hopes he and Velkuriss, and yes, he hopes the others, too, are all transported safely to wherever.
Revery has his own gear, and already has Kwen's in his backpack. So he picks up Sajeek's backpack and gear and holds it in his left hand. Staying in the room, with his right hand he silently casts Invisibility (8 mana), first on Kwen. Next will be Sajeek, and finally himself. For the time being, he is staying in the room and hiding behind Sajeek and Kwen.
After the first spell he glances up (outside the door) to see where a levitate would bring him or the others.
He is hoping that the guards will look inside and see nobody, and start searching elsewhere.
(HP: 70/70, Mana: 95/142)
Markus says the words for the Teleport stone, having everyone touch the stone, as he hopes that the newcomers will make it out safe and sound. Markus prayed that where they were going was far enough of a head start, that he could restore his former cell mates wounds and feed them.
Words are spoken in a clear voice, as is the expectation of magic, drawing more attention to the room, which is illuminated by Widget's meagre light source as if by candle.
Prismatic smoke flows forth from the stone, which melts away into nothingness in the process. Tendrils of polychromatic vapour wend their way around the arms of each of those that were in contact with it. A swirl of smoke rushes around their bodies of those involved, dragging them unerringly into the centre, their bodies warping as they are pulled along into the magical singularity.
Being transported by necromantic magics (levant) is as if someone yanked your bones out of your body, and then cruelly requested that your sinews, organs, and flesh catch up afterward. You each are thrown to your knees as you land in a swamp, immediately discerned as the heart of the Froglok kingdom, the mortal enemies to the iksar people: This is the Swamp of No Hope.
It is mid-day, and Markus can finally see something in the fetid gloom of the mist-laced, and humid swamps.
Firiona frantically sweeps her hand around in the water, which is now mid-thigh, searching for the dropped clockwork construct.
Kspress, Markus, Velkuriss, and Firiona disappear, as they are drawn into a hole in mid-air. Sucked in behind them is all of the smoke, leaving the room suddenly pitch black again.
Outside of the cells the ceiling rises up to the height of the stairwell. If the group can find the elusive prey called consensus, and avoids initial detection, the could possibly rise up far out of sight for a time, though that would require dropping invisibility to do cast the spell thrice.
Light has emanated from one cell, which is the direction of the door noise, and the words of the teleportation spell.
Avoiding more than a casual inspection of the room will rely on luck, and not drawing more attention than needs be. There are many among the guards that can see through invisibility, so your lives will depend on what happens in the next few seconds.
Detection DC:
(Revery, Sajeek, Kwen: please include a DC 15 stealth check, in your next post, to avoid a more intrusive inspection of the room and character generation)
As the guards approach, Revery is both mad at himself for not choosing different spells, and glad that he at least reviewed and pinned the silent aspect of those he did choose.
He whispers to Kwen, "Lock the door," as he moves to the wall to avoid being seen from the food slot.
Sneak check:
After silently making Sajeek and Kwen invisible (8 more mana), he works on getting them to Levitate (Silently, 9 mana each), and then does the same for himself (Levitate first, Invisibility second) (9 mana, 8 mana). His final act if they find him is his quickened Gate spell, which he will use only as a last resort.
(HP: 70/70, Mana based on above totals: 52/142)
Kspress' body reforms intact, and he naturally does a sort of monkish check to ensure all systems are running normally; all the while standing in the Froglok's swamp.
This place looks familiar, he thinks. When he sees the elf woman, Firiona, like the city, he remembers, searching the swamp, he first assumes she feels creatures under the water. Soon he realizes she is looking for something - that little doll.
He looks around and sees Velkuriss, and the human, Markus. None of the others, the ones that freed them from the prison. He says to Firiona, "We are at home in the water," and with that, he first looks for a dry place to deposit his gear. After that he will willingly dive into the water and look for the doll.
Kwen quickly locks the door, with no issue what so ever, in fact it is almost like returning the door to it's natural state. Managing to keep hidden is no issue for the rogue, after all it is what he has spent so many years doing; remaining hidden while his prey passes by him.
steath check
lock door
Revery works to cast multiple spells, but he simply has not the time for his voice had carried (failed sneak) and a dozen heavily-armed troopers are at the door. Kwen had asked the enchanter to hie away, so the others could attempt to talk their way out of this mess, but the refusal weighs heavily on the erudite, as he reveals their position.
Through the slit grenades are tossed in, which Kwen smells the indescribably nauseating stench of Chocking Asmag. There is no time to warn the others before it sweeps through the room.
The door is simply unlocked by the jailer's readied key, a reflex forged by many years of toiling with the dregs of iksar society, and the thousands of slaves that keep Cabilis running.
(Please include a DC 20 Fort save in your next post to avoid being nauseated: experiencing stomach distress, nauseated creatures cannot attack, cast spells, concentrate on spells, or do anything else requiring concentration, the only action such a creature can take is a single move action per round)
All iksar belongings are as at home in the waters as they are on dry land for it is an amphibious culture. Only once the iksar start purchasing items of non-aquatic races will they have issues with carrying items ill-equipped to being submerged.
The group had been thrown to their knees, which brought the swamp water up to Firiona's mid-thigh, which will make it difficult for the monk to dive in without braining himself.
Adding his efforts to her search, she looks up with confusion played across her face that an iksar is helping her, emotions that are easily discerned by Markus, but a complete mystery to the two iksar.
Soon enough Widget is retrieved.
It is not safe to remain in the lands of the enemy of the brood of Cabilis.
Revery leans over and retches over the stones that, unknown to him, the teleporting group had recently cleaned so thoroughly.
Fort Save:
Fort Save vs poison
Kwen knows it's all up to Sajeek now, as he starts to vomit.
Sajeek near clings to the wall as Rev cast his spells upon them. He glances around as the door is locked. Crossing his fingers, he hopes that the guards bypass the cell. Just for a little while. Just long enough for Rev to escape. And give the rogue and beastlord a few more seconds to get a solid lie down.
That was not cards for the three. Alerted by something, the food slit in the door slides open. Sajeek's heart skips a few beats as events suddenly seem to slow down. What could only be grenades come tumbling in. And they weren't filled with the happy, dozy drug that Kwen liked to use. They go off with a horrible, nostril searing stench.
The transformed vah shir clamps his nostrils shut and shuts his eyes tightly. The stench hit with an almost physical force. Somehow, he managed to keep from throwing up. The smell was easily one of the worst he had encountered in his lifetime. Given the places that the beastlord had been, that was saying something.
Sajeek was suddenly glad, for the first time in his life, that he didn't have fur. He knew that this kind of stench would take weeks to come out of ones fur.
Standing up and looking around, Velkuriss blinks in amazement. They were free. The shadowknight turns a full circle, trying to get his bearings. That, and shake off the sense of confusion that was trying to settle in his mind. Velkuriss could hardly believe that it had actually happened.
Squatting down, the iksar takes a few moments to scrub some of the filth of the cell from his ash scales. Letting the bit of greenery that he used as a brush sink, Velkuriss stands back up.
Having wasted enough time, the shadowknight quickly begins to dress himself for battle. It didn't take him long get his armor in place and tighten down his weapons. He frowned slightly noting that he had lost a good deal of weight. His stomach reminded him that needed to be fixed. And soon.
"I think that we are going to have to get them some skins to wear," Velkuriss says in common, his raspy voice quiet. "I remember that bare softskins don't fare well in wilds." He nods at the human and elf. "Wait, you have your gear don't you? Don't you have something that our new friend can wear." Velkuriss looks at the female elf clutching the mechanical doll.
Looking at his spellbook once more before closing his pack, Velkuriss muzzle splits in a broad smile.
"And I will have to spend some time memorizing spells. It's been far to long," Velkuriss says, mostly to himself.
"More importantly, we are going to want to get moving, we can find food as we travel. I don't think it will be long before we'll be followed." Velkuriss says, looking at the mixed group. "What a sight we are." His muzzles twitches in a faint grin as he shakes his head.
The shadowknight looks around once more, his scythe in hand.
Kspress nods at Velkuriss, saying, "Yes, in fact I should have extra clothing in here." He goes through his pack, handing out his extra monk's robes to Firiona. "If that is too large for you, or too hot, we can adjust it." Meanwhile, he equips himself, putting on his very light magical armor, and all his other gear. It makes him feel stronger, faster.
He looks around for a dry place, as it may be difficult for the softskins to walk in this. He looks at their feet, trying to recall if they have even sandals. He suspects not. He pulls out some rations, and offers them to the others, taking a mouthful of dried fruit and meat for himself. Looking around at the swamp brings back memories - Frogloks, a ghost Iksar, a near-death experience.
"We should eat and prepare for travel. Where is it you needed to go, Fi-ri-o-na? Those others, the Iksars who spoke common so quickly; they are your comrades? And what is that?" At his last question, he is pointing to the moving doll.
Revery keeps retching, and moves over to where he can hear Kwen doing the same. Even when he's done, he keeps going as long as Kwen is, to mask the invisible Rogue's sound. Finally, when he can talk, he says, in Iksar, "Yes! They made it!" And then he makes a run for the door, unable to think clearly enough to cast any spells.
(HP: 70/70, Mana: 87/142)
" I have some extra clothes that can be worn, I agree we can move to a bit of dryer land, and I'll summon food for all of us." Markus says, while getting his armor on, then letting it shift into a his normal clothes. Pulling out his spare cleric vestments and handing them over to Firiona so she could at least having some form of clothing to protect herself from the elements
Kwen finally manages to stop retching and moves to a corner, not sure where the others are at, in this annoying cloud, he hopes the spell that Revery cast on him lasts longer then the effects of the poison, knowing that it could end soon, the poison effect.
The room is awash in hot iksar blood, arterial spray lands on Revery's two invisible companions as well, as the enchanter's ankle is cleaved in the manner very reminiscent of what is done to froglok slaves. The transformed erudite glances down, sees his shorn off foot lying over a foot away from his ankle and simply passes out.
You hear the troopers coordinating their movements, and gain newly found respect for how efficient they deal with this unexpected outcome. They show no emotion as they process that they have lost the princess.
An ominous silence follows, followed by hard-eyed iksars scouring the area, moving into each and every cell to find those that are hiding, question everyone. Several iksar enter your cell, forcing the duo to keep silent, as they watch their friend bleeding out less than 2 paces from their current position. Those that can see in the invisible spectrum are among the searchers, but none do more than take a cursory glance in the room.
Percentile Change of Casual Detection (high rolls are better): (successful hiding)
Invisibility Duration (Kwen): (rounds)
Invisibility Duration (Sajeek): (minutes)
Horrifically Kwen appears while the troopers are still milling about.
(Kwen: please include a hide roll in your next post to avoid detection)
Junior troopers are ordered to go fetch necromancers to interrogate all, including the first trooper on the scene, to get to the bottom of this plot.
Revery continues to stain the ground with volumes of his blood, but no one seems to care, since they'll simply raise him from the dead and talk to him again and again until he breaks.
Kwen is barely breathing as he spends all of his energy into thinking don't look over here:
hide
Sneak if needed
Iksars glance into the room at times, but impossibly they fail to note the rogue iksar blending his heat signature with that of those in the doorway, and his fallen friend.
A decision is made to slam all cells shut, after ensuring that there are no obvious, mundane means of escaping the cells, they leave Revery locked in the princess' old cell, under the gaze of two iksar troopers who remain locked within the cell, and the rest remain in the hallway talking and attempting to make sense of what had transpired.
Revery's scaled eyes flutter, as he wonders where his gear has gone, and the closest iksar, noticing the movement, raises his foot to stomp the life out of him.
(initiative: group has sneak attack against flat-footed/unarmoured guards, no remaining effects from the gas grenade, as long as combat is kept quiet, and spells are quickened, and the guards are put down almost immediately, you will not be seen)
Kwen, inwardly calling himself 8 kinds a fool, throws the vial right at the faces of both guards, surprising both of them with the suddenness of the attack.
Firiona looks at Widget as if seeking guidance in this unprecedented situation. Her rescuers had left her in the care of this trio based on what she had overheard as an agreement if they were lead to her cell. She respected that their word stood for something, but their judgement was something to question, both because they did not know the two iksars and human she had been left with, and also it left them in dire straits.
She could not know that the truth was in leaving Bast behind their hands were tied, and that it was not blind trust that guided their decision, but loyalty to a companions mixed with a liberal dose of pragmatism. There was no sense in risking Firiona any more than they had already by opening her cell and releasing her.
She rinses off in water of questionable cleanliness, but compared to being smeared with her own defecation it is an upgrade. Accepting the monk's robes, she alters them to fit herself as best as she can, and then follows the others.
Dry spots are relative, for the swamp has momentary reprieves, but for the most part consists of the group slogging through the quagmire, trying to avoid crocodiles and other hunters in the swamp.
An hour and more later they find a tree that branches out to provide a dry place to rest, and a central locale to hunt from and return with sustenance. Potable drink is difficult to find in the swamp, but there are rare plants that filter the water and make it safe to drink.
(please include rolls for wilderness lore in your next post, and/or how many of your rations you are using or spells you are casting)
These troopers were chosen for their advanced training and skills (level 12 and 13) to deal with anyone that might try to get through the cell door and present a threat.
They did not expect an attack from behind for that matter as a plume of poison fills the air around their heads, and while veterans of many wars, they were caught completely unawares by the attack.
Trooper 1 (fort save vs. DC 38 Twisting Fugue) (fail)
Trooper 2 (fort save vs. DC 38 Twisting Fugue) (fail)
Both troopers choke and fight for breath, providing the group a perfect opportunity to knock them unconscious, and don their clothing, weaponry and prepare for their escape.
(combat over)
Kwen grabs one of the guards' leg and hacks off his foot, at the same height has Revery's limb. He takes a shallow breath and taps Rev, handing him back his own limb he, he whispers " Gate yourself out of here, we will meet you at the normal spot, I'll get Sajeek and I out of here." Once Rev has done that, Kwen and Sajeek dressed as guard, yells that they are under attack.
Once the door is unlocked by the other guards Kwen will back out if he is able too, along with Sajeek out of the room, he acts like he was hit by poison. Kwen says to the other guards " We are under attack, someone is using poison!"
disguise check if needed
bluff check
Markus spends his time casting spells that allow the party to have at least something to eat, while the three loaves of black bread is bland, it is filling.
Along with healing anyone's injuries:
Helping the others find drinkable water, as tomorrow Markus will change out his spells for traveling stead of combat.
Revery is barely conscious, and someone sticks an Iksar foot in his hands.
The pain is intense, screaming at him like a thousand dragons. It may not be the worst he has ever experienced, that being Pain offered up by the god of pain himself, and only as a side dish of Fear. But right now it is the worst ever. His foot burns and every sound and movement multiplies it by ten.
Still, there is something.... a soothing feeling trying to cover the pain. He looks at the foot in his hands. It is his own, of course, an Iksar foot because, for the time being, he is an Iksar. And Iksars heal, preternaturally quickly. That is the feeling. The blood flow is slowing, perhaps.
Revery knows little of Iksar anatomy, or healing properties, though he had studied dragons. He wonders if a severed limb will stop bleeding of its own accord. Or grow back? No, that seems unlikely. But if he puts the foot on the stump?
Knowledge/Monster Lore (dragons, humanoids, etc.):
Realizing that bad things are going on around him, he finally hears Kwen's words, to Gate away from here. That had been his last-ditch plan, and now perhaps he's in that last ditch.
"Good luck," he says to the others. He thinks to give Kwen's lockpicking tools back to him, but then, he doesn't have them any more.
He casts his quickened Gate (48 mana) to return to Bast. Once there he ensures he is out of sight. He gives Bast a pat on the back, and sets to work trying to stop the blood flowing from his stump. The pain is intense, even though it's healing, and it's more than difficult to work on himself like this. He's not sure if he should try to reattach the foot or not. He spends some time doing what he can, then lies down and just breathes.
Heal:
Once satisfied the bleeding has stopped, he finds a comfortable spot to turn into a dagger again, and casts a silent Minor Illusion (3 mana), transforming into the same dagger as before. He rests and meditates (recovering 10 hp and 20 mana per hour).
(HP: ?/70, Mana: 36/142)
Kspress does what he can to help keep them all alive. His mind jumps back to the jail, and the fate of those others (her friends?), but only briefly. The swamp is full of dangers, and they need to concentrate on the here and now.
Wilderness Lore:
Reluctant to ask more unanswered questions of the Elf, he remains quiet, mostly. Instead, he keeps his eyes and ears open, watching for dangers.
The quickened spell, is not a silenced spell, and while it is short ejaculation of sound, it is audible to all in the prison proper, except that the disguised Kwen had screamed at the same time.
Revery lands near Bast, hidden in the ruins, and is 100% positive that the foot will reattach if placed against the stump (critical failure). While his studies tell him one story, another story is discerned by time itself (will recover 1 hit point per 6 minutes, the first 6 minutes will halt the bleeding), and he will see no evidence that the foot is reattaching.
The enchanter needs treated bandages, salves, and so on, from a Healer's Kit, to treat his wounds (bind wound skill), but without them his skills are for naught. Each attempt at binding takes 10 minutes anyway, so it will possibly be outpaced by his natural healing factor.
Woozy is an understatement for Revery. He has lost so much blood, and realizes that the only reason he is still alive is the fast recovery innate to all iksar. The enchanter becomes a dagger and Bast spends an inordinate amount of time sniffing it in confusion.
Guards rush in and draw the injured Sajeek and Kwen out, and sweep their arms to rid the room of the poison, so they can enter en masse to destroy the interlopers that have attacked twice in as many minutes.
The duo are forgotten as they move to the back of the throng, providing them an opportunity to scoop up Revery's backpack, and head for the exit. A few eyes follow them for a moment, more as gawkers to any hideous wounds they might have received, than any hint of compassion, but the moment they pass backwards to make room, they are forgotten.
Kwen and Sajeek, aided by the rogue's acting skills, are able to make it up the stairs without being accosted until they find themselves face to face with a necromancer of obvious power.
She hisses, "Update soldier!", as her giant pet gazes at you with cold dead eyes. There is noise of more undead approaching, suggestive that this is an encounter to talk through, rather than fight through.
(please insert a wonderful bluff roll here that somehow explains why you look as a broodling, and carry the gear of a much higher trooper)
Behind her you can see the exit, but considering its militaristic demeanour, and intense fortifications, this is not the city one wants to embark in a foot race to escape.
Markus' efforts in summoning food takes the pressure off of Kspress' foraging, providing sufficient plants to provide libations, and bread for victuals, to relax in dry comfort within the branches of the tree, with injuries healed, it is a total upgrade from the months they had spent in chains.
Widget spends his time stripping the bark from one of the branches of the tree. You smell wafts of wood smoke emanating from his back as his inner fire devours the strange sustenance.
The ingenious Firiona draws a sharpened piece of metal, a shiv, and cuts strips off of his clothing to make foot wraps. It shouldn't be a shock, since this princess is reputed to be one of the finest fighters on the planet. Much of Markus' healing had worked to repair damage to her feet, while walking through the swamp.
It really is amazing that "softskins" have flourished as well as they have.
"Widget was tinkered together by 7 gnomish merchants, as a means of killing rats in confined spaces, but something went awry, and I found him living among them. Somehow he is far more than a simple construct, and he learns as fast as a person. I know not how he came to be in my possession, he must have clambered into my travel pack when I went on patrol." Firiona glances about, "I need to either connect with a patrol, or return to the city of my namesake: Firiona Vie."
The princess shakes her head and admits that she has no clue who the other group is, and is surprised as any that she would have support within the iksar community.
" The intruders somehow managed to launch another attack, using poisons, or perhaps using magic to cloud where they are at. Without magical means, locating and slaying the intruders may prove challenging at best." Kwen says blending fact and fiction together, if the necromancer questions why it looks like two broodlings are standing as guards, Kwen would have another lie ready: This is their task before becoming 'adults'. Only if she questions him about their status of being a broodling.
Sajeek almost couldn't believe the love the spirits (and probably gods), had for the three. And Kwen's quick thinking and acting had helped immensely as well. It didn't hurt that the rogue was a big fan of using poisons to level the playing field. The beastlord was having a hard time seeing a problem with that. His eyes had fallen to Rev's crippling wound and Sajeek's wince was visible even with scales.
Minutes pass with cruel slowness as the two quickly changed and Rev used his magic to escape. A pity the stench grenades had stopped him from doing so earlier. Sajeek was certain that they could find a cleric to fix his foot. It just might take them a little while. He shakes his head, angry at himself for dragging his friends into this.
Following Kwen's lead, the two almost get pushed aside as troopers fill the room. They slip by, forgotten, and begin to leave the jail, snagging Rev's pack on the way. The scent of fresh air hits his nostrils, right about the same time as the necromancer and her large pet come into view.
At her hissed command, Sajeek remembers who he was supposed to be and breaks his almost opened mouth stare at the pet. Listening to Kwen, he nods in agreement.
"W're pretty sure it was the two chained together with the human. The creepy big grey and the fast moving tannish one." Sajeek says. "We think if they used kinda softskin magic, they might still be close by."
Sajeek and Kwen feel as if the entire world is staring at them, understanding that the lie is all that stands between living and dying, and Revery likely bleeding to death. The female iksar stares at the two broodling's foreheads, for what feels like an eternity before she and her pet walk brusquely through both of them and continuing on to the scene of the escape.
It is a good thing that necromancers focus more on intelligence, and death magics, than common sense and reading others. If it was a monk that they had encountered, their ruse would have been pierced immediately.
Sense Motive (including innate +2 racial mod to WIS) (fail)
Picking one's way across the city is not difficult, though the duo need to hide the trooper's belongings along the way, since they reveal their presence as surely as if they intended to be found out.
It takes very little time before they find an opening to enter the ruins undetected. The reunion with Bast is heartwarming, as is finding a very familiar dagger. As Revery returns to some healing magics he can think of no magics, even high level cleric magics, that can restore a missing limb.
An exit from the city lies not far from their position, for it is where many of the froglok slaves awkwardly hop to and fro from.
Velkuriss closes his black, leather bound spellbook. He covers it back up, keeping symbols burnt into the leather obscured. Sliding the book back into his pack, he pulls out a small bundle, tied with a simple strip of leather. Opening one end, Velkuriss slides out two pieces of finger length bone.
Squatting down, he sticks the two bits into the moist a few feet away from where he was leaning against a tree. Standing back up, the shadowknight takes a few steps back to where he left his scythe leaning against the tree. Turning to look back at the spot, the shadowknight gathers his energies.
Flexing his clawed hands, Velkuriss begins to speak an spell he had eager to cast. It was an old spell, one whispered to him when he lurked in the catecombs of his youth. It had taken him years until Velkuriss had realized that it was a spell. Arcane syllables rolled of the iksar's tongue as layers of magic built upon each other. The darkness gathered within the shadowknight lends the strength needed to bring the final pieces of the ritual together.
The ground around the bits of bone tremble violently, and then cave in as if a sinkhole lay underneath. A perfect circle of darkness remains, leading to nowhere. A skeletal iksar raises from the darkness, hovering a few inches above the "ground." It steps down out of the darkness and looks around. Bowing to the shadowknight, it waits for his command.
Glancing back at the black hole, it has vanished, the ground completely undisturbed. Aside from a few wisps of stream that rose from the ground, as if it been near frozen. The same vapor trails follow the skeleton for a few moments.
Nodding to the skeleton, he pays it no mind as it moves to stand by his left. Velkuriss pats his full stomach and leans back against the tree.
"This is the first time I have been full in... far too long," Velkuriss nods to Kspress and Marcus. He turns to regard Firiona for a few long moments.
"I am certain that those three were not iksar. Their form may have been of one, and they were well versed, but they were false," Velkuriss says. "I've seen it before on our errand running travels. A halfling tried to fool us. It didn't work out quite as he was planning."
A puzzled expression comes over the shadowknight, impressive given his scaled features.
"What did you do to get a city named after you?" Velkuriss asks of the elf. "Are you a general, or great warrior?"
Markus digs into his backpack pulling out his prayer book, he spends time rearranging his spells for the coming day, it is almost a tearful reunion with his book for he now had a chance at changing his odds.
" I for one, am just glad that we are finally free for a change, as for the three perhaps you are correct, that they were not Iksar, they seemed different to say the least, I pray that they managed to find a way out from the cells. I owe them much, as I owe you two much for helping keep me alive in the cells, you didn't need too, but you did, for that I thank thee." Markus finishes with a smile.
The thought that if Markus' wife was still safe brought a tear to the human cleric's eye, shaking off the even greater hope, he focuses on making sure that he prayed to Karana for watching over him.
" I will make sure that we are all free from diseases, due to drinking such foul water for so long, I'm sure we all will benefit from a clean bill of health." Markus says with a grin.
Kwen looks at Sajeek and Bast, feeling that they had gotten very lucky
Kwen thinks to himself that it could have gone so much worse for the three. Of course Revery was now missing a foot, Kwen hopes that they will find a way to restore him from such a debilitating injury.
Kwen gives a brief prayer to the God of Rogues that they had to managed to escape, from the cells. " We should leave sooner rather then later, I have a feeling that the guards are going to be looking for us. We still need to find the others out of the city, I'm hoping that we will be fortunate enough to find them." Kwen says softly, wondering what they could do to help Revery out.
Revery waits until the voices indicate, via their tone and urgency, that is is safe to reappear.
He reforms sitting down, holding his leg and wincing, and looks up at his two brothers in arms. Through the pain, he forces his words. "I'm so glad you managed to escape, and I think Bast is too. If we are to exit this city I shall change again into something. Much easier to carry, and with my backpack too.".
His leg looks horrible, for it was allowed to partially heal without proper care. The bone still sticks out, and any Erudite unused to battle would pass out at the horrific sight of it. He holds his dismembered foot, as he is unsure what to do with it. His mind, against his will, goes to Nogglegrop, and pictures him attaching a clockwork metal foot to the end of Revery's leg, jointed ankle and all. He struggles to put it out of his mind.
"Is there anything you need me to become, something useful, perhaps?" he croaks, sounding somewhat like a Froglok even as he looks like one with his missing foot and wretched state.
He takes his backpack and returns the others' items, checking his own contents. He says to Kwen, "If you like I can keep your spare toolset on my person, in the same vein that royal bookkeepers keep copies of their books in remote castles, as back-ups.".
" Well now, if you wish to hold on to my spare set, then I have no qualms about that, perhaps if you wish, I could even give the both of you some basic lessons." Kwen finishes with a smile, then he winches looking at Revery's wounds. " I would say stay as a dagger, I'll not use your new form as a weapon, mayhaps we will find a way to.... alleviate your injuries, or find a cleric who might be able to do something about your leg." Kwen pauses for a few moments.
" We should leave, as Bast and Sajeek are the only two that I know of, that are able to track people in the natural settings." Kwen starts donning his gear, glad for the moment that he had more of his useful items back.
The teleportative magic's direction and distance, "short range" being a subjective term, is a complete unknown. This becomes all the more obvious when the group leaves out of one exit from Cabilis, which forces them to dodge patrols, and monsters, and finally give up on the trail to find the princess, since they find absolutely no sign of her passing.
Perhaps she's in a shallow grave, with the criminals having slit her throat.
Revery's leg heals into a horrific wound that requires constant attention and the beastlord's healing spells to stop from festering, and causing his blood to fill with sepsis. The enchanter is more and more feverish as the days turn to a tenday and more. The call is made to continue on to Firiona Vie to seek medical attention for the enchanter, before they lose another friend.
It is lucky in a way that the party had taken so long to return, since their illusions have dropped long before they get close to the city. There is a positive to the journey, since it showed them many of the dangers between them and the route to the Lake of Ill Omen, which is the next leg of their journey to their epic weaponry.
It was a harrowing journey, but somehow the group finds themselves in the city of Firiona Vie, having been forced to train a rabid drolvarg into the guards to get there in one half-mangled, and bleeding piece. Sajeek and Kwen wait for hours as the medical professionals work on their friend, and in the morning they are permitted to visit him, though he remains unconscious. Only after they leave do they realize that the healers had expected them to say their goodbyes.
They do not understand Revery.
Revery's right lower leg has been cleanly amputated almost exactly halfway between the ankle and the knee. The healers know of no magic that permits limbs to be restored. Days drift past, as they stand helplessly as the healers fight the infection, and the delirium. More than once you consider ending the enchanter's torment yourself, but finally, two tendays from the time the wound had been inflicted, Revery walks beside you with a crude prosthetic limb, fashioned from wood, and a simple staff to lean upon.
There is no word of Firiona Vie. Her uncle had visited and taken your failure with far more aplomb than you expected him to.
(Revery, Kwen, Sajeek/Bast scenes on hold)
After several false starts food sticks to the recesses of everyone's shrunken stomachs, and with wounds closed, and clean drinking water filling systems, but it is when Markus cleans their systems of disease that they really start feeling back on the road to their old selves.
As the layers of filth are scrubbed free of the princess you come to realize just how beautiful she is, even though she takes every measure to walk with a slouch, keep tangles in her hair.
Firiona Vie simply lies through her teeth in response to Velkuriss' question, hoping none of the trio were familiar with the ancient Koada'Dal tongue, "My name is a common enough phrase, which first daughters are referred by, as they come of age, until the naming ceremony when they are to be wed. The city was formed as a promise made by those that man its walls, to return to those left behind. I work in the castle as the private martial trainer to Queen Thex herself." She adds the last bit with the perfect amount of pride, even raising her chin slightly.
Bluff:
The lie slides so easily from her lips, not that the web of deceit could not be pierced, but there is practice behind those deceitful words: the princess is a maestro at lying and as such will make a wonderful politician.
Of course, the lie will be able to maintain when the group closes close enough to the city to see the 100' tall mithril and marble statue in the perfect likeness of the person they currently walk with.
Velkuriss and Kspress had heard the princess had been taken from the wretched high elves, which makes them dubious of her story (bonus +10 to sense motive vs. the above bluff roll).
She chews her lip to consider that the iksar saviours might be something beyond what she saw. She admits that she might know them, but cannot be sure. "I imagine they were there for the princess, and got caught before they found her." Tears brim in her eyes at the thought that her princess still remains in the control of the dark lizard race.
Noises in the distance put the group back to moving. You notice that Firiona keeps whispering to Widget, which causes him to spin his upper torso only, his legs being held in her hands, and he finally stops by pointing one arm out to indicate a direction, which you quickly deduce to be true north.
Markus considered her words, but focused more on reflecting on the changes on the inside of his body. His time spent as a captive, had changed him that much was sure; he was less joyful that was certain. Giving a shake of his head he pushes off the thoughts of weakness from his mind, of course his dreams, spend a lot of time back in that cell.
Hearing Firiona Vie's words, Markus gives an internal shrug, getting her to safety was all that mattered, he does spend more time thinking about what she had said. He accepts her story, with little worry about if it was the truth or not.
Markus looks at Widget, the craftsmanship that went into the little clock work being, was amazing he wondered at the forging that went into it. Bringing his eyes back to the road, Markus keeps up with the others, having to move carefully due to his armor, which looked like a simple shirt, and not the true silver half plate that it was.
Velkuiss nods to Firiona, what she said made perfect sense. Naming offspring with the names of heroes seemed common place among all races. It was still curious as to why she had her own cell. 'Must have had something to do with her being the trainer to a queen,' the shadowknight thinks to himself.
"Are you strong enough to use my bow without too much difficulty," Velkuriss asks the elf. He hands his scythe to his skeletal servant, it takes hold of the weapon with a bow. The skull of the iksar had three claw like grooves passing over it's right eye leading to the lower jaw. It doesn't take him long to string his composite bow and hand it to the elf.
"If that isn't suitable, I have rather heavy flail you might be able to use." Velkuriss looks around at the swamp. "The better you are armed, the better chance we all have of surviving." The noise that came from a distance behind them serves to illustrate the shadowknights point.
Firiona tries the bow, then hands it right back, then accepts the heavy flail, swinging it with practices precision.
Kspress thanks Markus for the healing aid. He mentions that it makes him feel better.
He sees Firiona reject the bow, and offers, "I have six javelins. You may carry a few if you like."
Earlier, during a break, he stood on his own, practicing his exercises. His joints and muscles have been getting a limited workout in the last - how long were they in that prison, he tries to remember? Now they needed some good stretches and strengthening exercises to get them back into shape.
Revery works hard at practicing walking on his new foot. He has high boots that help him hold it all together. It's painful, but he needs to do it or he will not be walking anywhere.
He mentions to the others, "There goes my plans to become a great warrior... You can relax now. So, what do you think I should name him?"
Both iksar know the general direction that will take them out of the swamps, despite having been out of commission for months and months, though it will be a several days before wend their way to find dry land.
It is good that Firiona is well armed-because moments later you are set upon by more than 14 frogloks, taking advantage of the half-light they throw crude javelins, more as a diversionary tactic than to draw much in the way of blood.
They swarm as they close in, screaming their battle cries.
Firiona whispers, "You focus on the Krup, I will keep the others busy." Unquestioned confidence exudes from this woman, her body wracked by malnutrition, and without any armour.
Your eyes sweep over the oncoming rush and quickly pick out the one she had indicated, one froglok jumps along with the others, but holds noble markings, and a nimbus of death dancing along his offhand.
They close into melee range after ranged strikes are exchanged, and the fight is met in the middle of the swamps.
(may include up to two actions in preparation, casting spells, drawing weaponry, et cetera if you are not planning on being part of the ranged exchanges, as the Krup is also casting spells, rather than throwing javelins)
Initiative:
- Markus, Kspress, Velkuriss, Firiona
- (16) Frogloks
- Krup Froglok
Somewhat impressed by the elf's unflinching confidence, Velkuriss looks at the froglok, it's hide smeared with markings. Seeing the gathered dark energies gathered around it's hand, a sneer ripples along the side of his scaled maw.
Dark arcane hissing oozes from his maw, simple gestures joined with dark energy from with the shadowknight join together. With the final words the shadowknight spits a great glob of blood into his free hand. The fist size bubble of blood floats above his claws. It burns brightly with the heat of a roaring fire.
Pointing his outstrected claws at the Krup, Velkuriss smile is all cruel blood covered fangs of a predator. The burning glob of blood shots away from the shadowknight, rocking his arm with the force of the magic that propels it. The burning blood explodes into a fine red cloud just before impacting over the wide eyes Krup. In the blink of an eye the burning blood absorbs into it's rubbery hide.
Cruel, raspy laughter flows from Velkuriss' bloody maw as he calmly walks towards the Krup, ignoring the hopping frogs for the most part. The shadowknights "friend" gives a soundless roar, it's claws lengthening to the length of cruel bone knives. Burning motes of a toxic looking green dance in the eye sockets of the undead iksar. It rushes into front of Velkuriss, cheerfully hacking a path for the one that summoned him from the cold darkness of oblivion.
"I'll feast on your souls!" Velkuriss hisses as he gets within reach of the Frogloks.