"Lord Arkona can be cruel to ones who fail him. If I help you I need some assurance of your protection."
'Seems we've fallen in with a bad lot. That Arkona is as viscous as some of my family, well I know how to deal with him - placation and evasion.' the mage thinks grimly to himself, glad and proud that his sister is dealing with the strange creature. [i]'Better to have by-passed Arkona than come into conflict with him.
Finally he speaks up; "How many would we need to protect? Just you, or are there others that feel similarly?"
"Assurances! Bah, I say you cannot trust anyone's word but for what its worth you have mine. I only kill those that get in my way."
"No, well luckily I serve these and they are the brains of the gang."
Nicola nods agreement at her brother's question and remains silent, relieved that others are jumping in. Drinking and healing are more her style than negotiating, but she dreads another fight like the one in the temple.
'Seems we've fallen in with a bad lot. That Arkona is as viscous as some of my family, well I know how to deal with him - placation and evasion.' the mage thinks grimly to himself, glad and proud that his sister is dealing with the strange creature. [i]'Better to have by-passed Arkona than come into conflict with him.
Finally he speaks up; "How many would we need to protect? Just you, or are there others that feel similarly?"
"There may be one more. I am not sure."
"Assurances! Bah, I say you cannot trust anyone's word but for what its worth you have mine. I only kill those that get in my way."
...
"No, well luckily I serve these and they are the brains of the gang."
"I think your word is worth more than you claim. What help do you require?"
The crocshasa's head tilts to one side while he awaits a reply.
"Neolandis. Tell us about him."
Nicola nods. "We need to know where he is and who defends him. If you help us recover the man alive and intact, we will certainly give you credit for the rescue with Lord Arkona."
"The Seneschal is alive, but I doubt he is in good health. Senshiir had him before Lord Glorio transferred him to Sivit's care and she is seldom gentle.
"Lady Melyia has gone into the Labyrinth to treat with Sivit for her prisoner. She left Vennashti and me to hold the doors to the Labyrinth and the dungeon. Vennashti might also rejoin Lord Arkona, if I can talk to him privately. Lady Melyia's plan sounded good, but it has not worked out well."
"So Lady Melyia and Sivit the warden are guarding the Seneshcal at the centre of a labyrinth?" He asks making sure to ascertain there are no falsehoods.
"I believe we'd need a map and prior knowledge of any traps that may line the route - that'd mean you wouldn't have to accompany us. For we know discretion of your actions is important." He flicks out a hand in a languid motion, as if in after-thought; "You mentioned Lord Arkona's harsh reputation?" 'We really don't need more of them really, getting in bed with a devil is never fun...'
"Well, come then" He waves you upward.
"Sivit guards the Seneschal in the labyrinth. Lady Melyia has gone to speak with her, but she would not yield Kalepopolous to you if she had him."
"Lord Arkona puts on a generous public face, but as those in his ervice soon learn, he is a stern master. You must never disobey or fail him."
With a slight wince Phillipe responds; "Hmm that's troublesome, I suppose we'll have to do something about that... or at least take it into consideration." The mage starts to move upwards to the rakhasa.
"Sivit is she a healer, jailer, torturer or a mixture of the three?" He questions.
"A jailer must keep her charges alive," the crocshasa says is it turns away and disappears behind the edge of the ledge. There's a faint grinding sound, and as Philippe clears the edge of ledge he sees their interlocutor has opened a previously concealed door in the wall.
"This way. You will need light." The crocshasa apparently doesn't. He plunges into the tunnel's dark mouth.
Though Phillipe will take the lead he's mindful for allowing Varlis lines of sight and will let his sister take point if she wishes. And he shrugs at Nicola; "Did you learn Light cantrip, I've only got some oil. Not even a lamp."
However he does cast Mage Armour to bathe himself is a softly glowing nimbus.
"Cantrip!?" Nicola snorts. "None of that mumbo-jumbo for me. However, Cayden grants his faithful the light of his presence whenever they need it."
She murmurs briefly, clutching the silver mug that connects her to the divine, then touches Varlis' buckler. "If you would lead the way, good sir, I would be grateful." She follows the ranger through the doorway, flinging "hurry up, slowcoach" back over her shoulder to her brother.
"Methodical, not slow." He retorts, well used to the sibling banter and hoping to lighten his mood. "I suppose you'd prefer a light beer?"
He continues after the group placing himself near the middle to help as required. "What should we do aboiut the Lord?" He openly wonders.
"We must hurry. I must be able to speak with Vennashti before Melyia returns."
The crocshasa hurries down the dark corridor; his shadow stretches out in front of him. Suddenly he breaks into a run. Ten paces and he rounds a slight corner, momentarily hiding him from your sight. As you round the corner he is pushing an iron lever in the floor over center with his shoulder. There's a groan of metal followed by a screeching sound and suddenly a deafening rumble as the ceiling begins to collapse.
Varlis, Philippe, and Nicola rush clear, but the descending stone conceals Emerion and Heather's fate.
The crocshasa whirls and the light from Varlis' shield gleams in reflection from its teeth.
"Did you really think I would bargain with such as you?"
"Treachery!"
"Well the alternative would've been worse, as you're about to see...." Phillipe says with ice in his voice.
"Light me with divine revenge!"
"That I will!" Nicola replies fiercely, "Cayden will aid us all this day!" She swiftly touches the party's pointy weapons as she prays.
Nicola casts. Varlis has the jump on the Crocshasa. Range to target 25'.
Philippe to go after the crocshasa.
"Nicola, my thanks to your God."
Varlis pours arrows at the croc's face, aiming for the eyes and mouth.
"Are I drunk? Ye Gods.." mumbles the warrior as his missiles fly left and right.
Varlis' arrows fly left over and right of the creature. It steps to one side, throws its arms out toward the group and a line of fire races through the air toward you.
Nicola
Varlis
Crocshasa
Phillipe
The sphere of fiure engulfs him, but he rolls out of the way, smouldering slightly as he moves next to the warrior.
"Varlis, let your arrows pierce his bluster and take away at least a piece of evil from the world" the mage says channeling the touch of spirit within himself to enhance the archers ability. He steps forward and places a hand upon Varlis shoulder to imbue him with insight into their foe.
"Cayden bring you luck!" that god's servant cries, throwing blessings like tavern dice, then drawing her rapier. She jukes to the right of Varlis and her brother so a single bolt cannot catch them all again.
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Varlis is still staring dumbfounded at his poor shots as the energy and prayers of his friends enter the body filling him with strength and power. He suddenly screams at the agonising flames that reach into his throat and every pore and hole burning him into silence.
"Ye Go-!"
But the ranger tries to keep his attacks up. Concentrate! Concentrate!
Two of Varlis' arrows strike home. The rakshasa snarls hissingly, and turns to flee. He runs away quickly.
"No you don't!" Phillipe says roughly moving with an inner fire, pushing forward he moves to the right. Eyes squinting through the gloom at the fleeing form the mage focuses just past him. "Mynd â ni yno!" he invokes, clapping both Varlis and his sister on the shoulder to take them with him.
A shimmering curtain opens up and envelops the trio, the exit being just in the route of the evil reptilian creature.
Philippe's shimmering curtain dissolves and Nicola and Varlis (and Philippe) find themselves facing a charging crocshasa. It hastily slows, but its momentum carries it toward the party.
He is going to slide into melee range.
Nicola's fist shoots straight into the air, holding her silver mug aloft as she shouts a string of unintelligible symbols. Holding her rapier in the other hand, she stands her ground and awaits the villain's arrival.
Power flows from Nicola and hits the rakshasa like a stone wall. He staggers and reels to one side; his hand stretches out to find the wall.
AC21, 22hp left
Varlis half turns to allow the bow a full aim and then lets fly at the beastie, throat and thigh arteries his targets.
That occupies him fully and he steps up to let the sword take over after.
Varlis' arrows drive home and blood spreads profusely, staining the crocshasa's white robe. Blinded by divine power and perforated like a pincushion, he drops to ground.
Varlis quickly steps up to the body and pats it down searching for anything useful before they carry on, "They are dead back there...aren't they? No chance under those rocks?" His voice catches halfway through.
"Take it's head." Phillipe answers coldly, trying to hide his emotions. However he does add, "They could be trapped on the other side of the rock."
Moving quickly down the passageway, he puts his hands against the stone as if attempting to communicate with the impassive rock. "There's nothing I can do...." He mutters to himself.
"Right." Varlis presses the greatsword blade down until it cuts through the neck like a guillotine. The head rolls awkwardly away and stops on its jaw.
Varlis closes his eyes and wipes the pain from his face. Losing Emerion and Heather is a shock and means they are underground without the pair's skills and brains to rely on.
He finishes his search and stands to brush dust from his trews.
The grey monolithic slab is mute as a headstone. But its shear bulk proclaims, "You can only press forward." As you stare at it, a thin line of water drizzles from the ceiling and pools briefly on the floor before beginning a slow meandering roll toward you.
The crocshasa's head stares at you. Surprise, perhaps captured forever, still illuminates its eyes.
"No more surprised than I, friend," murmurs Nicola to the severed head, "Had you kept faith, we would have, also."
She joins her brother at the descended slab, pressing her ear against the rock and listening for any sounds. She pulls back slightly and taps the metal butt of her rapier on the stone three times, slowly and deliberately, then presses her ear against the stone once more to listen.
"Well struck, Sir Varlis. Have faith. Your friends may be safe behind this wall. It may be a device to separate, not to kill. I have not the power to dissolve stone. Our best bet is to press forward and hope to rejoin them in the descending cavern, methinks."
She does not verbalize her further thoughts. It may be we who are in trouble, facing the rest alone.