Shendalyn steps north 5ft and summons small air elementals behind the lightning one. This should allow them to flank. IF shendalyn cant summon them close enough theylly just move so that they are flanking.
Slam 1
Damage
Slam 2
The summoned elementals appear just beneath the lightning beast and against the wall. While they do not yet provide more than a mere annoyance - though the second's attack does barely harm the creature of lightning - they will allow both Mi'Dre and Jethryk to reposition themselves to take advantage.
The now slower and more sedate elemental shudders with mindless rage and lashes out at the one who most harmed it with blade...
Slam at Jethryk: for
Jethryk lithely steps around to a flanking position, and unleashes on the elemental!
Cruxcarr continues to float under arcane flight power, whilst he conjures a spectral hand to assist him in combat;
:
Shendalyn casts Haste!
Covers my elementals, me, Midre, and Jethryk.
Elemental 1
Slam 1
Slam 2
Elemental 2
Slam 1
Slam 2
Shendalyn's elemental allies flail partially effectively but the form of the thunder being proves resilient to harm. Jethryk cuts through it with a meaty swing as Mi'Dre's attentions prove less accurate.
Albina lurks upon the floor, imploring Jethryk to seek succor... but with no response. Cruxcarr meanwhile maintains a distance and conjures a spectral hand with which to stroke and poke.
The thunder creature shudders and the storm that makes up it's form roils with turgid motion, but cornered as it is all that it can manage is to flail out at Jethryk once more...
Slam at Jethryk: for
...a limb of cloud made flesh thudding into his face and discharging static that rolls across his form.
"We might have to... retreat here." Mi'Dre says between gritted teeth as he continues to claw at the beast.
Hovering slightly above the ground and flanked by a corpulent incorporeal hand, Cruxcarr smiles as he tastes the tang of raw electricity fill the chamber;
"Deliciousssss. Quite the foe is it not my blackhearts?"
The mage draws a scroll from his belt and utters its incantation;
"Érezd a simogatás, a halottak!"
Feel the caress of the dead!
:
: +
Whose turn?
The thunder creature shudders and the storm that makes up it's form roils with turgid motion, but cornered as it is all that it can manage is to flail out at Jethryk once more...
Slam at Jethryk: 1d20 + 16 + 3 - 1 for 2d6 + 5
...a limb of cloud made flesh thudding into his face and discharging static that rolls across his form.
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Mi'Dre has better luck at rending and tearing this exchange, and despite the elemental showing stout resistance his efforts begin to pay upon it.
Albina gauges whether it is worth approaching near enough to deliver healing unto Jethryk... and while he is floating lower, it is still within the beast's reach...
Shendalyn's summoned elementals channel their instructor and sit idle and indolent in thought for a round.
Cruxcarr's attempt at skeletal groping is almost successful, but the elemental twists away at the last moment.
The beast of thunder lashes out at Mi'Dre, repaying the hurt delivered with it's magically slowed reflexes...
Slam at Mi'Dre: for
Mi'Dre grits his teeth against the pain of the creature's blows, continuing to lash out.
Mi'Dre continues to rend and tear... finally meeting with a favorable result as the latent energy that makes up the elemental's form begins to fade. The roiling cloud that sheathed it's form begins to ebb and a shapeless fleshy mass settles bloody unto the floor.
Arms crossed Shendalyn looks at Mi'Dre and gestures at the fleshy mass. "Go ahead. Eat the heart of lightning."
Jethryk coughs up some blood, but nods his thanks to Albina as he pulls himself to his feet, and waits for his infernally-granted healing to finish.
"Well then, with that creature defeated, shall we explore the room, and learn exactly what we have here?"
This large domed chamber is baroquely decorated and everywhere adorned with jagged daemonic iconography and visions of spreading pestilence and
mortal suffering. It is a grand chamber: eighty feet across at its widest, ninety feet long and rising at its apex to a dome fifty feet high.
Low partition walls section off two ritual preparation chambers. And dominating the chamber is the statue of Vetra-Kali himself carved from hard green alabaster. He holds three knives and three bowls and leers eyeless over the altar before him. He presents a figure of brutal alien malice.
The green stone of the altar is stained black in many places, doubtless from the countless victims who met their end upon its block. There is a reservoir at the base of the statue and the statue radiates evil.
Completely out of place is the heavy silver chains that bind the altar and connect to a heavy argent seal pressed with the holy sunburst of blessed Iomedae -- the Silver Seal. As long as the seal persists, Vetra-Kali will never again manifest upon this mortal plane.
Mi'Dre spares Shendalyn a withering look as he settles to the ground again, gently touching the spots already beginning to bruise where the creature hit him, muttering infernal words to call for Asmodeus' favor to remove them from him.
As his pains ease he stalks around the chamber, pausing every few steps to tap and knock at the wall for any further secret passages, before returning to the central statue. "The seal that must be broken." he observes, starting to reach out towards it before deciding against it. "We must make preparations..."
"A wise decision." Shendalyn says. "Shall we vacate the room and see if our pawns can remove it by force? I doubt they'll succeed but their failure can teach us much."
Apart from the large domed area with Vetra-Kali's sealed statue there is an open balcony shrouded by the undergrowth growing on the spire of earth and rock. From there you can see the other strange jagged hills that rise around the Horn. The hills seem almost to be bowing as if each of these ancient stone giants recognize they are lesser than the grand and magnificent spectacle that is the Horn of Abaddon.
Investigation of Vetra-Kali's statue itself finds that the bowl at it's base serves a valuable purpose. Any fluid placed within it is turned into unholy water.
You also discern that touching the seal itself would be what is known amongst scholars and learned folk as a very bad idea. It radiates an aura of overwhelming good.
Jethryk nods towards the bowl at the statue's base.
"That will be extremely convenient."
"Saves us a bunch of that gold downstairs. Still need to find someone related to the Victor... and a Mitran priest, but that one at least shouldn't be too hard."
Map of the Sanctum and Level 3
3.1 - there is a camoflaged pit trap in the floor.
3.6 - is the Treasure Vault where your friendly local dread wraith and pals are hanging out.
Reference to post with Treasure Vault contents
3.12 - is the top of the secret stairway from the caverns, and 3-13 is where you fought the ceustodaemons. Also it currently has a hole in the western wall from where Jethryk cut through.
Cruxcarr's glitter with nefarious possibilities at Mi'Dre's words;
"Oh most indubitably my darling Mi'Dre... We merely need to ring the dinner bell and the Mitran's will come calling... We are after all cordial neighbours are we not?"
The corpulent wizard chuckles to himself as he wanders over to the bowl. As he mulls its possibilities, the hemothurge's sharp tongue absentmindedly flicker across his plump lips;
"Any fluid... becomes most unholy... How... temptingly intriguing..."
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"Let's stick to water please." Shendalyn says his mind going to most unholy places.
"I think it's time we got back into contact with civilization and started getting this place repaired. Sooner or later more than us will come looking for the horn. Best we made this place welcoming as cruxcarr suggests. I'll start by measuring out a spot for the bar and harem I think."
"Oh yes, that will go marvelously. Please come and install some shelves for us. The address? Oh it's the giant spooky mountain of unspeakable evil, can't miss it. Don't worry about the boggards, they're harmless, just don't touch their shrooms!" Mi'Dre observes sarcastically in reply to Shendalyn's 'suggestions'. "I believe we are going to have to rely heavily upon the Baron. Although given the length of our stay it might be wise to establish some of our own contacts in the town... We'll need some sort of cover story if we're to be visiting there during the ritual."
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"Inviting too much attention to our new location before we are ready to free the daemon sounds like asking for trouble. It might be more prudent to kidnap whomever we need to sacrifice or whatever, than invite an army of our foe to besiege us for the many months it will take to perform this ritual." Albina says.
"For that matter, I wouldn't trust our rivals in service to our dark master to attempt an eleventh hour coup, and strike us down so that they may complete the ritual themselves and steal our glory..."
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"I hate to tell you this." Shendalyn says. "But summoning a creature of this power attracts attention. There's a reason I never dared, say, summoning an archduke. The energies involved are like a beacon to all manner of creatures good, evil, or otherwise. NEver mind we've just cleared out what is essentially an apartment building of monsters. I bet if we asked our large, shadowy and terrifying friend in the vault he'd probably concur. He's the, heh, unliving proof. We can choose to do nothing to fortify ourselves, not rebuild traps, and pray to the dark squiggly lord of our choice that some adventurer or another doesn't decide to raid the pile of gold we happen to be on. So, we can choose to do nothing and wait for nature to take its course as the giant build up of magical energies simply brings its own reward. Or, perhaps we can risk a bit of discretionary fortification and be in a better position to receive guests should they be arrived? I like to think myself civilized. Even if I too often find myself in a dirty gutter with a hangover and a mysterious crotch rash."
"All I meant was to use some caution." Mi'Dre mutters with a sigh.
Cruxcarr smiles slyly at the discord amongst his fellow Knot;
"Come come now my Blackhearts. Can we not exercise both caution and abandon? When making a refined dish of prime... thew with a rare sauce; ingredients have to be harvested, prime meat procured and a chef's creative... whimsy's indulged..."
Hooking his thick fingers into his belt of leering demon faces the bloated wizard's eyes glitter with belligerence before continuing;
"...Indeed we have a ritual most foul to undertake... however this is also our time my blackhearted loves... We should begin to build our own influence here... fortify, machinate, corrupt and conquer... yessss?"
Jethryk nods.
"Fortifying our position, discretely as possible, and increasing our pool of minions sound like excellent ideas. Only a fool would assume that no agents of the Light would come here in the long period of time it will take to realise our goal."
The mural of the ceustodaemons is inspected closer, and you are sure that the plates of iron shown around the necks of the beasts bears the truenames of the daemons... but the mural is not fine enough of detail to read them.
The fountain on the second floor is proved to produce fresh water that magically replenishes itself.
The murals upon the corridor are interpreted as well... and prove most enlightening... three rituals are made plain:
Call Forth the Hounds: If three guard dogs are poisoned with a very specific preparation and then ritually slaughtered, they will rise as hell hounds in life-long service to whoever cut the guard dog’s throat.
Call Forth the Steed: If a fine heavy warhorse is slain and then set aflame with a very specific and exotic mixture of incense, powered gemstones and prayer strips then from the flame will emerge a nightmare who will serve whoever lit the pyre.
Cauldron of the Earth: This ritual must be performed over a pit of boiling mud. A specially prepared concotion of rare earths and powered obsidian must be poured into the boiling mud while reciting a prayer to the Lord of Evil Earth Elementals. This calls forth four mudmen.
"Hmmm... Those rituals are definitely tempting... I would not mind a flying mount, or so guard-dogs... I don't rightly know what 'mud-men' are, though. They sound messy."