Wrath of the Righteous Table Unwavering (Inactive)

Game Master nightdeath

Melchesiech steps forward, swinging his staff at whatever Reegar is wrestling with.

Staff to scented air: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20
Miss chance, high=hit: 1d100 ⇒ 65
Staff damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Red fails to grab whoever is on top of him but Melchesiech manages to land his staff on something solid prompting a yell of pain!!!

Melchesiech addresses the source of the noise in Elvish. "Surrender is your less painful option."

"Never!!" is the rather short and sweet reply to Melchesiech's request.

Naravash continues to thrash about with his assailants, swinging his kukri in flashing arcs now that his foes have closed in. With rising alarm, he shouts at the others, "What's come over you all?! Help us fight these things!"

"Help you fight? Certainly!" Grabbing the table to stabilize himself as he stands, he listens for the voice and makes a grab for it.

Grapple: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Miss Chance: 1d100 ⇒ 13

"They are illusions. Do not be fooled."

-Posted with Wayfinder

Red's attempt to grapple fails even as he grabs something soft and receives a slap in retaliation or was it because of the struggling......

will save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
Told anew that he struggeld against illusions, the young summoner tried to clear his mind...to no avail.

"Illusions? You're the ones grabbing at empty air!" Naravash accentuates his point with a rumbling growl and a slash of his kukri as he continues in his struggle.

Foes fall and yet more seems to fill the room and little wounds begin to add up as the floor becomes slippery with blood. Cries of battle and the harsh song of battle fills your ears except for those who ahve broken free of the spell and are now attempting to grab their actual and invisible foe.

That foe stands up and attempts to move off, provoking Red to strike out!!!

Grapple: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Miss Chance: 1d100 ⇒ 79

Red Stick reaches out... He thinks he grabs a hold of something...

He does as Red grabs on, a decided female shriek of outrage permeates the room!!!!

The illusions plaguing the rest of the party disappears as the caster is distracted from the sudden grab! Red's face looks distorted with one side pressed hard against the floor and the other side depressed inwards. It is clear he's struggling with someone!!!!

Melchesiech calmly turns to face the struggle, one hand beginning to curve in the initial gesture of a spell. "I am able to cast color spray. Surrender, and I will not cast it against you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" Red gibes. "You might want to become visible. I'd hate to grab something I shouldn't."

He flexes his muscles, crushing something in his arms. "Oops! Clumsy me. Was that your arm or neck?"

Naravash staggers back a step as his assailents suddenly vanish. He glances around, obvious confusion wrinkling his russet brow before he realizes Red is wrestling with someone or something. Scrambling, he rushes back and retrieves his bow.

He mutters loudly, "I don't need to see you to be able to shoot you, trickster."

move action: move to bow
move action: pick up bow

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19Will Save

"Ackk..." seems to be the only comprehensible answer as Red's arm tightens. The person's struggles seem to cease for a moment and then suddenly Red finds his grip empty!!!

A nearby door opens and slams shut!!!!
Perception DC 15, if passed Sense Motive DC 10
Passing both gets you the result that no on has exited the room. As in no running footsteps.

Melchesiech does not give any appearance of relaxing from his ramrod stance. "The foe seems to have departed."

Perception check: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 12

Carefully checking his grip, Red Stick replies, "Seems to. But you know, I never heard footsteps. And my nose still feels her heel from earlier, so she's not flying. If she teleported or whatever mages do, there'd be no need to use the door. Or, you know, act like you're using the door."

With a wry, predatory grin, he finishes, "Which means..."

Red Stick draws his whip and twirls it around his head. "...little girl lost is still here."

Oynar trots over to Red Stick, sniffing at the rogue's clothes to try to catch an unfamiliar scent. If successful, she lowers her sleek head to the ground to attempt to track it.

Perception+scent: 1d20 + 5 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 5 + 4 = 29

Survival+scent: 1d20 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 2 + 4 = 13

Oynar's keen nose picks up a scent different from Red stick. Directly above him in fact. Her keen eyes also notes that the frame on the ceiling looks slightly weighted...............

Oynar leans back on her haunches, pointing her snout upwards. "Up there!" her voices chime.

Naravash spins at Oynar's call and sends an arrow up toward the ceiling near where the eidolon indicates.

Shortbow (pbs): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25for: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Miss Chance (1-50 = miss): 1d100 ⇒ 23

I'm not sure what's going on now, who's where, and who (if anyone) is injured. Can I get a status description?

A shriek rends the air when suddenly a loud roar permeates the caravan and then your assialant appears before you writhing in pain as the symbols on her face glows and burns down to her very bones.

She gasps, a mongrel female, a hand reaching out beseechingly out to the closest of you before that same hand combusts. She opens her mouth to scream in pain, her eyes widening at the sight of her flaming hand but to no avail as before your horrififed eyes, her head explodes with concussive force becoming ashes before any of you are splattered.

Slowly her body jerks in agonised spasms as her robes smoulder and begins to smoke before bursting into flames too. Soon an oily residue of her shadow is all that remains, its shape twisting in pain and terror.

For all eternity.

The room falls into silence..................

Naravash's eyes widen at the mogrel's deaththroes but remains frozen in place, unsure what he's seeing. As her body smoulders into nothing he risks a breath. A few long moments pass before he tears his gaze away from the stain on the floor to his bow. He then slowly looks from his bow to where he'd shot that last arrow, and then his gaze drifts back to the stain on the floor again.

Unsure of what actually just happened, he settles on the nearest conclusion he can see. "I did not know my bow could do that. Wow." He scratches the back of his head sheepishly and looks around the room at all the others. "Is everyone alright?" His gaze settles on the two people whose aid they'd come to initially, "And you two are still real, right? Not illusions like we were fighting off at first?"

Caelus also stands in wide-eyed shock at the flaming death throes of their previously invisible foe.

"I...think we're fine..." he says with a quick glance at Oynar, in response to Naravash's question. Still wary of illusions, he steps over to the ashes on the floor, tentatively touching the stain, verifying that the mongrelwoman is indeed gone.

will save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

The Eidolon is very, very still as the mongrel burns away. After Naravash questions the others, she pads slowly towards them, lifting her nose and inhaling deeply, trying to see if they smell..well...real.

perception/scent: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

Melchesiech starts, then regains some measure of composure. With only the slightest hesitation in his voice, he looks up intently at the ceiling where the mongrel vanished. "That was not expected. I wonder how that happened?" Realizing then that he was being addressed by the tiefling, he turns his head (but not the rest of his body) towards Naravash. "I am not an illusion, nor is the dwarf. We were trapped here when the demons attacked Kenabres, and have been trying to return to the surface ever since. I am called Melchesiech, and this--" He indicates the hawk on his shoulder. "--is Tranh. E-Terah can introduce herself, now that the fight is over."

The elf is tall and slender, with angular features and a rigid ascetic bearing. He moves gracefully enough, but in his case his physical control makes his motions more like well-crafted clockwork. "Our thanks for the timely rescue. And you are?"

"Also survivors," Naravash slips his bow over his shoulder and rubs the palms of his hands on his pants, "and we've been trying to find a way out of these tunnels for what seems like days. I'm Naravash. Glad we came upon you when we did and happy to help." He offers his introduction with a deferential nod to both Melchesiech and E-Terah.

The stain is all too real as is the reek of burnt something. The stain is real and as Oynar's all too sensitive nose can attest, the flames that burnt their invisible foe is still smouldering and hellishly hot.

A quick search of the room reveals nothing and so does the rest of the suddenly quiet corridors and remaining rooms.

There is but one room left and it seems that something wet could be heard splashing behind it.

"Caelus (KAI-luss)Oklir, at your service, " the tall young Kellid replies to Melchesiech's query. " We met a much more friendly tribe of Mongrelmen, who indicated that the path to the surface lies through this warren."

Ah!, where are my manners. This, " he beckons to the sleek, hound-or-cat-like golden quadruped, who lifts her head to regard the elf...

"...is Oynar," the quadruped finishes, her words sounding like they were spoken by distinct, soft voices simultaneously. "Well met,
Melchesiech and Tranh. "

The eidolon sits, looking at the hawk as if waiting for a reply.

Tranh gives a screech and spreads its wings.

The looseness in Naravash's posture vanishes when he hears the sound of splashing beyond the adjoining door. His nerves and tensions suddenly tight once more, he slips his bow free and nocks an arrow, drawing the others' attentions to the door with a serious and grave nod.

"Seems we're not in the clear yet," he whispers darkly.

Razul stirs from the back of the party. He looks somewhat lost and shakes his head slowly. "I feel... as if we are not alone."

E-Terah's coral hued tresses shivered and stood on end.1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

The door beckons and yet stands shut as if in challenge.

"Wait. The female may have had items or equipment of interest, and I would also like to investigate where she died." The elf casts a quick cantrip (detect magic) and examines the room carefully.

Perception check: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13

But not that carefully, with a roll like that :-(.

Naravash's expression darkens as he indicates the door with a nod of his horned head, "If she did, I would expect those things to still be there after we deal with whatever's making those noises." He readies his bow and fixes his aim on the door, prepared to shoot any threat on the other side once the door is opened.

Razul draws his scimitar and moves to the door. Nodding at the tiefling, he opens the door.

Oynar moves into place near the door, so as not to hamper wither Razul or get into Navarash's line of fire.

The party waits with some trepidation as the door creaks ominously open, the hallways are streaked with blood spattered walls. A fresh breeze carrying the taint of bloodshed wanders through it telling you that the door leads to the surface, the closest things you felt to the surface since being in here.

"Fresh air!!! The surface is close! Bring us up and me to my home where I can see you al rewarded greatly!!" comes Horgus's Booming shout that echoes throughout the chamber. His face flushed with excitment as he takes a step forward.....

Aravashnial face curls into a sneer though he hobbles along on his makeshift crutch looking to find some guiding him as Anevia is startled by Horgus's shout.

"By the God's mercy! We're getting out of this dank place finally. I can see my wife again!!" her eyes feeling with tears even as she lowers her drawn bow.

Naravash glances at the trio, then back at the blood-smeared hall. "We promised to get you there, and we will, but the way may not be clear yet." He creeps forward, bow still at the ready, looking for trouble he earnestly hopes isn't there.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Oynar steps up beside Naravash, seeing if he can see or hear anything, as well as smell anything over the blood.

perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Or 15, for scent

The elf looks around intently, wary of demons from the invasion.

Perception check: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20

The dwarf made cast a disdainful look at the loud-mouthes merchant for his outburst,then went to the blinded elf's side to help guide him along by taking his hand in hers.

Not one of my grandest excursions...she thought to herself in chargin.

She would have had the grace to be embarrassed at the befuddling magicks making her act like a fool if she alone were the only one affected so. Fortunately, she realized none of the others had noticed.

Horgus strides boldy forward, a torch in his hands as he leads teh way forward scenting freedom within his grasp with no one else to stop him, the merchant shoulders his way forward and enters the room!

Moving ahead of the others, suddenly!

He shrieks!!!!!

Naravash grunts in frustration as Horgus pushes his way to the front, but his irritation quickly evaporates at the sound of the arrogant man's squeal. Dashing forward, Naravash grabs Horgus by the collar and yanks him back as he positions himself between whatever Horgus saw and the aggitated noble.