Father if you do not require my assistance, I'll bid you good evening. Take care of those two. He glances toward their limp bodies. We'll have many questions for them in the morning.
Dra'Hir rejoins the group and heads to the Alchemist's abode.
"Thank you, Father." Earll say sincerely with a bow. "Your healing is greatly appreciated." Earll proceeds to make himself as useful as possible, assisting with the moving of poisoned bodies.
Del answers Lalia quickly, "I-I'd be happy to look, though I'm no scholar." Lalia, Del, and Malochia carefully examine the defaced journal. They rather quickly discover that the journal is not any sort of arcane or alchemical formulae, but was the rather mundane diary of Belldonna Vazzaro (Gellion's mother).
It takes several minutes to decipher the contents of the diary.
In the most recent entries that Beldonna was concerned about Gellion's well-being: he was spending more and more time on his experiments (too much, in her opinion), and was not eating well. Over the last few weeks, he had grown increasingly distant from both his parents and his friends.
While the group is looking over the journal, Majara finishes perusing Gellion's notes. "Adverse reaction to cold iron. What about magic? Fire? Cold? Further trials are required." She turns to Lalia and Dra'hir, "Not much here. It seems Gellion was testing the Demon's Bile? I'm not sure what he thought it would be good for, though I doubt he recognized it."
She looks around the room. "What I can say is I don't think he constructed that homunculus here. There's no proper laboratory set up, unless he tore it down afterwards."
Dra'Hir chimes in, I fear our curious your friend was a not as careful around the bile as he should have been and was corrupted by it's foulness. Ms. Pricknettle do you know of any way to purge the demon's corruption from him if my fears are true? It's one thing to slay a spider or beetle but quite another to murder an inquisitive youth who made a mistake...
Dra'Hir somberly stares outside and then suddenly snaps back to the moment.
“Ms. Pricknettle previously mentioned that she believed remove disease would do the trick. Although that does pose a funny question. Ms. Pricknettle mentioned affording the potion’s ingredients might be a challenge and we should try Father Ildris first. How did her apprentice manage to acquire the one we found in his bedroom? Also any idea on where to check for a lab setup Ms. Pricknettle?” Lalia looks thoughtful for a moment then shrugs.
“We may as well call it a day I suppose. We’re unfortunately in no shape to continue pursuing this today and had better talk to his parents before we proceed. Perhaps you’d like to continue this conversation elsewhere if you’re done reviewing the notes Ms. Pricknettle? I’ll buy you a drink if you’d like, I’m sure you could use something after today.”
Majara looks at Lalia, and worry and exhaustion is apparent in her face. "You know, a drink might be just the thing. Maybe I'll just stay and help the halfling clean up a bit. I'd hate for Gellion's parents to come home to this mess."
A couple of hours later, Majara joins you at The Witch's End Tavern. Alcie strides up to the group, saying, "Have you found any leads on Morvinarr? And what'll you be having? There's stew and bread, and beer. I've got a few bottles of Chelish pepper whisky if you're feeling something stronger, and even a bottle of old Throatburn, Majara, though that won't come cheap."
Dra'Hir is going to hit the rack and plan his spells for the morning.
"No location yet unfortunately. We do have more information on what has been happening and hope to get a bit more to go on from Mr. Vazarro's parents in the morning. As you can see, we're a bit worse for wear. It's left us little choice but to stop for the night. Bread and beer for me if you will." Lalia then pulls out a canteen from the side of her pack and unscrews it. Fyrra raises herself up and the druid carefully pours out water as the python drinks.
Malochia has been silent for a while, clearly thinking. When the group reaches the taven he pulls his inkpen and a scroll out, starts jotting down notes for himself.
"I would like to get the stew and how much is the pepper whiskey?" he says to Alcie, still lost in his writing "So, Majara, about Lalia's question earlier. Do you have a clue where our friend might have setup a lab? As in, any potential places that are big enough for a lab that he can still hide from others? Maybe that estate?"
Dra'hir heads almost immediately to hit the hay. Alcie brings bread and beer to Lalia, and then answers Malochia when he questions her about the whiskey. "It's two gold pieces for a glass of pepper whiskey. Be careful though, it'll put hair on your chest."
Majara politely declines any Old Throatburn, instead sticking to wine. After three glasses, it is apparent that she is a little worse for the wear, as she starts telling rather poorly told stories of Gellion's early days learning about alchemy. She starts getting rather emotional, imploring Lalia to find a way to save her apprentice. She begins to signal Alcie over for a fourth glass, but finds her better judgment and asks for some water, which she nurses as the night continues.
Earll orders the stew as well. He sits rather pensively, perhaps his brush with death has cooled his exuberance? Those who are truly observant may see a man lost in dreamy thoughts, emotions flitting across his features: a look of curiosity? maybe confusion? bafflement? perchance a wistful smile? As he looks with clouded eyes upon the Alchemist, the Tavern Keeper, and then the Snake!
Lalia does her best to reassure the woman that they'd do everything they can to bring her apprentice back safely. She shoots a wry look at the tiefling as he attempts to get further information about the possible lab, observing that at this rate they'd likely not get anything useful tonight.
"We'll do everything we can to bring your apprentice back to you Ms. Pricknettle," the druid says, laying a hand on the gnome's shoulder. "Take care of yourself in the meantime. Often the first and best any of us can ever do is survive."
"Sure, I'll take the whiskey then, thank you very much Alcie" Malochia says, absentmindedly while focusing on his scroll still. His tail lightly petting Tiki who is curled up sleeping next to him.
The big woman brings a large shot of red-tinged amber liquid to the Malochia. "Chelish pepper whiskey," she says with a devilish smile as she sets the glass in front of him. True to its name the liquor appears to be a pepper-infused whiskey (). As he slugs the drink, his eyes water slightly, he breaks out into a hot sweat, and the veins on the side of his neck bulge out slightly. It seems that the tiefling has found a fire that he is not resistant to.
The remainder of the night passes without incident, as Majara sobers up enough to head home and the rest of the group eventually heads to bed.
Early the next morning, the group heads to the Temple of Erastil (). Ildris Ruvarra hears the group on their way into the temple, and comes out to greet everyone. "The blessings of Erastil be on you this day," he says as a form of greeting. "Let's waste no time on pleasantries. I'll take you back to see Gellion's parents. They're awake now, though they're still a little worse for the wear. It's nothing physical that some time won't heal at this point though," he says with a frown.
He leads the group back to the infirmary, introducing you to Gellion's parents. "Altius, Beldonna," he says, gesturing to Gellion's father and mother, "these are the people who saved you. They are searching for the missing apprentices, including your son and my daughter. Can you tell them what you know?"
Altius, a dark haired and mustached man with some grey creeping into his temples and a prominent scar through his left eyebrow, gives a harsh cough as he begins to speak. Nevertheless, he sounds coherent as he begins, "We owe our lives to you. I can't begin to ..." he breaks off and draws a deep before he continues, "I can't begin to thank you enough. We went into Gellion's room and that horrible spider overwhelmed us. I thought we were done for."
With this Beldonna cuts in. Blond hair frames a middle aged face with gray eyes and a wide-set mouth. "We went in to confront him over the terrible racket in his room, but all that was there were that spider and that horrible bloodstained little man. Our son has been acting strangely lately. He seems to be consumed by some sort of alchemical experiments. I don't know what's going on with him."
Altius nods his head in agreement. "I heard him talking loudly to himself about a warehouse recently, but he denied it when I asked him. And just a couple of days ago? Was it only a couple of days ago. It's hard to place." He shakes his head, looks up at the ceiling, and gives a sharp exhalation as if trying to clear his mind before continuing, "Anyway, I saw him headed in the direction of our acquaintance Marcuccio Bravoni's warehouse with one of his friends in the early morning. Morvinarr? The tavern boy. His friend seemed quite drunk, which struck me as unusual. It was after that we went to confront him in his room, and . . . well, you know better than us from there. Something's wrong with our son. He's got to be stopped."
Beldonna cuts her husband off sharply, "Helped! He's got to be helped, Altius! He's clearly sick, he's not acting like himself at all! Please," she says to the group, "heroes, help save our son! He's not to blame for any of this!"
Altius nearly growls a response, "And he's nearly killed us and is harming his friends. You can't just look past that, Bel! He's nearly a man and he's responsible for his own actions. He . . . must . . . be . . ." the man breaks down into a coughing fit as Ildris interjects himself into the brewing argument.
"Altius, enough. Beldonna, these are decent folk. I'm sure they will save Gellion if he can still be saved," the priest says with a glance at Lalia. "Their hearts are in the right place. And I'm sure they will do their best to prevent further harm from coming to anyone."
Turning to address the group, Father Ruvarra continues, "Do you have questions for these two? If not, they should rest. They've been through a lot."
Lalia and Fyrra awaken early and cross the town to the orchard. Once there, Lalia removes her boots and jacket and unties her hair, setting the items aside before sitting cross-legged on the ground. She places her palms against the earth and meditates as the sun rises and colors the sky. After some time, she rises from the ground. Fyrra, who had been sitting quietly in an increasingly sunny spot, absorbing some warmth, turns her head towards the druid lazily. "We'll be going in a minute Fyr. I'm just going to see if I can't prepare a few healing berries beforehand. We'll probably need it."
She searches for fresh berries and casts goodberry if she locates them. Afterwards, the two return to the tavern.
---
Lalia considers the couple. "I believe you are both correct, although I would note that I would hardly consider myself a hero. Your son must both be stopped and saved if possible. The good news, such as it is, is that we believe he is genuinely not in his right mind and not in control of his current actions. We also believe that remove disease would restore him to himself. We have come across a potion of such, but its application will likely be difficult and dangerous. We will do all we can to preserve lives. The only question I have for you is where is this warehouse?"
Altius is able to mark the location of the warehouse on your map. It is near the docks in the southern portion of town, by the Cornerica River.
After saying your farewells to Gellion's parents, Ildris beckons Lalia over to him. "Before you go, there is one more person here who you need to see," he says, leading the group to the back. The priest leads the group to a simple bedroom, where Mayor Sandra Trinelli is seated on a stool in front of a table, working on a document. She looks up as Ildris knocks on the door, and stands to greet the group.
"I heard from Father Ruvarra when Gellion's parents were brought in, and came to check on them this morning," she says without further introduction. "You did well to save them, and the town owes you a debt of gratitude already. Still, it seems obvious from their stories that you must go to this warehouse, search for the other apprentices, and bring Gellion in for questioning. But he is an apprentice alchemist, and I do not want the townfolk to get caught in crossfire between you and him. I've had my guards clear the streets nearby Marcuccio Bravoni’s warehouse on the pretext that they've found evidence of smuggling. This should keep the townsfolk safe."
She looks the group up and down, "I would ask you to prepare with all haste and investigate. Time is of the essence, if it seems that Gellion has been kidnapping apprentices. Do you have any questions for me before you go?"
"That's some fun stuff" Malochia says, suppressing a cough while drinking the last of his whiskey "I'm heading to bed, finally I'll get to change up the spells I memorize and finish up this scroll". He then heads off, having slight trouble balancing himself. Tiki stretches and runs after him.
After listening to the couple, his eyes almost closing as if he's about to fall asleep "Let's all hope he doesn't leave us without any choices, we'll help him if we can" then he yawns, covering his mouth with his tail. He then follows the group to the room where mayor waits them.
"At least we don't need to worry about the townsfolk" as the mayor finishes, a faint spark shows up in his eyes though he's still clearly not fully awake "Maybe we'll end up finding something interesting in his lab" then he's attacked by another long yawn.
Dra'Hir meditates in the darkness before going to bed to calm his mind. He rises early before the sun peaks over the horizon and pores over his spellbook retooling himself for the long day ahead.
He makes his way downstairs for a quick breakfast and then steps outside to practice with his kukri and scimitar making sure he is limber. He then meets up with the grops and heads over to the temple.
------------------------
Dra'Hir asks the couple, Can you think of any items or phrases that would hold special meaing to Gellion? I feel they might be of use to reaching the boy if he is infact consumed by the demon's bile. We certainly want as little blood shed as possible.
Gellion's mother considers Dra'hir's question, and then answers hesitantly, "Just tell him, that he . . . that he's a good boy, and that you know he didn't mean it. I'm sure that, deep down, he blames himself for whatever he's doing."
With no specific questions for the mayor, she sees you on your way, wishing you good luck, and reminding you that the guards will clear the streets around the warehouse for you.
The party makes their way to the southern region of town, and begins traveling through the empty streets on the way to the abandoned warehouse that Gellion's parents spoke of.
Perception
Initiative
Right as the group is approaching where the warehouse is located on the map, Fyrra suddenly stiffens and hisses in warning as Lalia is subjected to a vicious assault from an unseen assailant! Ram horns curl back from the twisted head of a tiny demon with a thin, wiry body.
Its claws catch the druid unawares, and deal a grazing blow. Despite only taking light damage, Lalia can feel poison in the wound; however, her natural resiliency is enough to fight off any ill effects.
Seeing the assault on her master, Fyrra responds by attempting to bite this new foe, without waiting for Lalia's command. Her jaws find purchase, and while they hardly seem to injure the foe, her purchase allows her to encircle this new enemy in her coils, ferociously grappling it.
The quasit is perhaps the least powerful demon. A quasit’s first role in life is that of a familiar to a spellcasting master, but those quasits who escape from this humiliating servitude become free-willed and much more dangerous.
Alone among the demonic horde, quasits do not form from the dead souls of evil mortals. Instead, they form from living souls—when a spellcaster seeks out a quasit to serve him as a familiar, his soul brushes against the Abyss and it reacts, carving from itself a quasit linked to that spellcaster’s soul and forming a powerful bond between the two.
When a quasit’s master dies, the quasit can attempt to follow the master’s soul into the Great Beyond. This ability places the quasit into the Abyss and places its master’s soul in the quasit’s possession as a writhing larvae rather than using the evil master’s soul to create new demonic life. In this manner, a quasit can use its newly captured soul to bargain with more powerful denizens of the lower planes, and perhaps secure a vile transformative “promotion” to a more powerful form of life in the process.
Rarely, a quasit elects to ignore its master’s death and instead remains on the Material Plane to seek other ways to entertain itself—usually settling in an urban area where there are plenty of folk to torment.
Quasits are immune to electricity and poison, and highly resistant to fire, acid, and cold. They have physical damage reduction that can be overcome by cold iron or good aligned weapons.
Earll
Little Angry Green Poison Man (grappled!)
Del
Lalia (-1 HP)
Fyrra
Malochia
Dra'hir
Dra'Hir spies this foul little beast and is enraged that he prepared Shocking Grasp twice this morning.
He calls out to his party, A Quasit!! Nasty little things! The elements will not help us today, but our cold iron will!
Moving south past Del and then east, drawing his rapier by reflex as he moves. He hears Dra’hir’s comment on cold iron he still chooses to make use of his rapier knowing his strength limitation greatly reduces his dagger’s damage potential.
"Die! You demonic denizen! "
Ignore my advice party!
The quasit, ensnared in Fyrra's coils, snarls in a strange language, "ਭੱਜੋ ਅਤੇ ਮਰੋ, ਇਨਸਾਨ!" as strange dark sigils surround its body, a look of intense concentration on its face.
Will Saving Throws
A burst of dark energy from the quasit washes over the party, and you are seized by a desire to flee from this enemy as quickly as possible. Most of the party is able to resist this effect, although a dark pit of fear still roils their stomachs. Del and Fyrra, however, suffer the full effects, and are clearly terrified as they begin to flee (Fyrra releasing her grapple to do so).
Earll
Quasit
Del
Lalia (-1 HP)
Fyrra
Malochia
Dra'hir
Earll though shaken and disheartened by his previous poor attack continues his assault.
And despairs at his lack of damage again!
Dra'Hir draws his Cold Iron Kukri as his eyes glow yellow. Arcane energy flows down his arm into his blade imbuing it with power. Swinging down on the evil little bastard.
"How did he managed to get all these irritating pests here" Malochia yells, clearly annoyed "Be careful, these things have poison and can go invisible again, they can also heal quickly"
Malochia takes a 5ft step diagonally to south east. He pulls his crossbow and loads a bolt in.
Lalia takes a step backwards next to Earll and claps a hand on his shoulder briefly, calling out in Druidic. She casts guidance upon him, a small amount of power flowing from her to slightly steady the man.
She calls out to the fleeing python. “Fyrra! temelisachihu met’itachihu yihini inisisa bilu. lanitemi temesasayi āyidelemi.”
The quasit barely dodges Earll's thrust, fixing him with a malevolent look, full of a raw hatred that Earll has never encountered before. Its eyes speak of an inveterate and hungry desire to torture and kill the swashbuckler in the most painful way possible before moving on to the next victim.
"ਤੁਸੀਂ ਇੱਕ ਕਮਜ਼ ..." the demon begins taunting Earll in its Abyssal tongue, until it shrieks in pain as Dra'hir's cold iron slashes its body. "ਠੰਢੇ ਲੋਹੇ!" it screams in its shrill voice.
It attempts to invoke some type of arcane power, however, the necessity of avoiding the surrounding blades causes it to lose focus, and it cannot invoke the spell.
Fearing the numbers surrounding it, the quasit takes to the air, flying straight up about 40 feet into the air. The group takes attacks as it flees; however, Dra'hir and Lalia miss, and Earll's strike barely penetrate's the quasit's skin.
Earll
Quasit (-6 HP, 40' up in the air)
Del fleeing!
Lalia (-1 HP)
Fyrra fleeing!
Malochia
Dra'hir
Fyrra, for her part, looks up at Lalia as the druid attempts to rally her; however, an unnatural fear prevents her from heeding her partner as she continues to flee.
Earll remains frustrated in his attacks against this diminutive demon. Three attacks and he barely scratched the beast. His ire increases as it flies out from his rapiers range. I could make an attempt with one of my daggers, but the range is near extreme. It may be best for me to prepare a panache parry and hold my action.
Lalia's face briefly twists into a snarl at the demon, irritated by what it has done to Fyrra. She shakes her head and glances around the battlefield. Seeing that Malochia is the only one prepared to attack at range and deciding that preparing to do so herself would take too long a time, she takes a step diagonally, standing east of Earll, then places a hand on Malochia's shoulder.
"Lig don duine seo croí an fhéichire a shealbhú ionas go bhféadfaidh sé an deamhan a ghlanadh ón talamh seo."
Lalia does her best to lend the tiefling nature's guidance to steady his aim. Then she calls to the snake once more.
"Fyrra, yemīt’afit’i yeseyit’ani šiga! ye’irati še‘ati."
Dra'Hir drops his blade, draws his bow loading it with the CI arrow found in Gellion's room. His eyes blaze yellow again as his arcane power flows into the bow and looses the arrow.
Die!!! You foul little failed demon!!
With the help from Lalia's guidence, Malochia aims carefully and shoots at the demon
"ਇੱਕ ਸ਼ੈਤਾਨ ਨੂੰ ਛੱਡ ਦਿਓ you irritating cretin"
The little demon screams in pain as Dra'hir's cold iron arrow pierces its shoulder.
Malochia's bolt flies wide, and the quasit fixes the tiefling with a malicious grin after his taunt, responding to him in Abyssal, "ਤੁਹਾਨੂੰ ਇਨ੍ਹਾਂ ਕਮਜ਼ੋਰ ਬੰਦਿਆਂ 'ਤੇ ਬਰਬਾਦ ਕੀਤਾ ਜਾਂਦਾ ਹੈ, ਭਰਾ. ਅਸੀਂ ਉਨ੍ਹਾਂ ਨੂੰ ਇਕੱਠੇ ਕਿਉਂ ਨਹੀਂ ਮਿਟਾਉਂਦੇ? ਤੁਸੀਂ ਇਸਦਾ ਅਨੰਦ ਮਾਣੋਗੇ."
Dark energies surround the flying demon as it fades from view, its glowing orange eyes, fixed on Malochia, the last thing that the party sees.
Fyrra and Del both shake off their supernatural terror, and begin to head back towards the party, Del drawing the cold iron morningstar, which is clearly sized for a human, and requires both hands for him to awkwardly wield.
Round 3. BOLD may go!
Earll
Quasit
Del
Lalia (-1 HP)
Fyrra
Malochia
Dra'hir
Dra'Hir replaces his bow and grabs his Kukri .
Dra'Hir sensing things are about to get worse yells, Malochia! I don't suppose you could summon a bat or vulture that can sense this Abyssal turd?
"Fyrra should still be able to smell this thing. It won't take much longer for her to get back over here than it would take Malochia's summon to be ready. Unless he has something particularly good against this demon, he may want to hold onto his summon still. We'll probably need it later." Lalia grimaces and calls to Fyrra.
"Fyr, see if you can smell this thing. If you find it, do your best to not let go."
With that, seeing no better option present itself, she casts guidance upon Earll in the hopes that the creature will either show itself or be located soon.
Fyrra sniffs the air, but cannot catch the demon's scent. She looks around, tongue flicking in and out, alert for the foe.
Earll
Quasit (-11 HP, invisible)
Del
Lalia (-1 HP)
Fyrra
Malochia
Dra'hir
Earll sees little that he can accomplish. He doesn’t know where the demon may be. Even if he could attack where it was it remains near extreme range for a dagger throw, and now that it is invisible the chances for a hit have fallen further towards impossible. He doubts he would be able to use his other senses to aid him in locating the demon but makes the attempt anyhow.
One other extremely slim hope is to piss this thing off to have it appear again. To that end Earll says. ”Perhaps this subservient drudge has run back to its master to lickspittle his boots!"
Still waiting to parry and riposte.
"Unfortunately nothing I can summon would be able to sense this thing properly" Malochia says as he's loading a new bolt into his crossbow "I clearly should have grabbed some cold iron bolts to jam into his face" clearly irritated at himself.
The little demon blinks into appearance as it claws wickedly at Del. The halfling, though surprised, is able to evade the little monster's attack.
Earll
Quasit (-9 HP)
Del
Lalia (-1 HP)
Fyrra
Malochia
Dra'hir
As the creature appears to attack Del, Malochia pulls up his crossbow and takes a shot at it
he then loads another bolt.
Dra'Hir yells to the group and he runs to Del's side, We're stopping by the store after this for more ammo! That was the only Cold Iron arrow we had! He is unable to attack but has his Kukri ready to strike.
As the demon misses Del, it hisses at him again in malevolent Abyssal, "ਤੁਸੀਂ ਮਰ ਜਾਓ, ਤੁਸੀਂ ਗੰਦੇ ਨੌਕਰ!" as it spits at his face.
Confronted by this malicious menace, Del blanches and moves to flee when he locks eyes with the quasit. As he stares into the demon's glowing orange eyes, he stops his motion and turns to face the demon, tears in his little blue eyes. "Master, forgive my weakness," he whispers as he regrips the oversized morningstar. He closes his eyes just for a moment and a surge of divine energy wracks his small body. He addresses the quasit in a quiet voice, "Begone, torturer," as he swings the oversized spiked metal ball at the demon
crushing the astounded monster into the ground. It lies there unconscious and helpless, its wounds continuing to knit themselves closed. Before the demon regains consciousness, however, the remainder of the group is able to finish it off as Del fixes it with a merciless stare.
Option #2. CI arrows and a rapier or dagger for Earll.
"Huzzah! brave Del for overcoming the vile fiend’s unearthly necromancy, and then to deliver such a great blow felling the creature. " Speaking to Dra’hir ”My meager assets preclude the purchase of a viable needle that would prove effective versus such demon. I have alternate blades prepared, though they lack the potency of my favored deterrent"
Wiping the gore from his blade on the corpse of the Quasit, Yes, you handled yourself well my diminutive friend. Looking to the the rest of the group, I'm sure we would all be willing to loan you the funds needed to keep us in one piece, Master Fynn. Dra'Hir puts away his blade, takes a couple of gold coins from his belt pouch and tosses the pouch to Earll. I consider this an investment in my future...
Del looks a taken aback at the praise from Earll and Dra'hir, but responds hesitantly, "Th-thank you. I felt the presence of my god."
The party quickly runs to Saringallow's Sundries and obtains some new and improved weaponry before returning to the warehouse. The return trip is quiet compared with the previous one -- no full-blooded demons ambush, accost, or otherwise annoy the group.
The rusty front doors of the large, dingy warehouse are slightly ajar, as if someone forgot to close them entirely. Sprawled across the door and the southern side of the building are thick, disgusting, purplish-black strands of Demon's Bile that pulse with malevolence.
About 50 feet to the south are a pair of strong, locked wooden doors, also covered in Demon's Bile.
Dra'Hir looks over the entrances to see if the bile should be cleaned or if either seems like a safer or stealthier option. Earll care to help me assess our options?