Arianna lets out a long sigh as she realizes the fight's over.
"I say we get on the ferry and then worry about getting patched up. Some of you look a bit frazzled," she says as she helps Scram to his feet.
Scram was about to grab his cloak from the closet (just adjacent to the spacious bedroom he had created among Ingryd's backhairs), but decided why mess with success. Pouring himself a cognac from the bar and adjusting his nightcap, the thief tucked in for the long ride.
Ingryd trudges over to the ferry and sags as she lets go of all her hate and sorrow. She winces as she sees her clothes slashed and torn and sighs.
"I am gonna need more clothes again. Also a nice long nap, my muscles feel weird"
After everyone piles onto the ferry, Arianna busies herself with mending the wounds that the party had suffered. After a half minute, the worst of the hurts are mended and she turns her attention to Ingryd's clothing.
"I'm not sure what to do about the muscles, but I can help with the clothes."
The elf starts to sing again, a wordless melody that drifts over the canyon as her magic cleans and mends the bearkin's clothes.
Lifting up the bell, Gunnar walks over and attaches it to the hanging rope with a quick Mending spell. He then gets back on the wagon and drives it carefully onto the barge.
”That was unpleasant,” he says, settling down now that he doesn’t need to drive. With his weakened arcane ward still dimly flickering around him, Gunnar pulls out his spellbook and starts studying.
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Aterro approaches Luthael. "Let me take some of this burden, brother," he says, restoring the cleric to full health.
Moving on to Ingryd he repeats the ritual, with his laying on of hands erasing the last damage of the battle. When finished he waves his hands and rips in the clothing are repaired. He laughs.
"Now where has that halfling got to?" he wonders aloud. "I would heal him also but he seems to have disabeared. Ah well I'm sure he'll show up."
With that done he re-mounts Phobos and rides him closer to this side's squeaking wheel. "Let me get that for you, ferryman," he says, again weaving his hands in the air, magically scrubbing away most of the creaking rust and coating the things in a light sheen of oil.
Luthael raises his eyebrows when lovely healing energy pours into him from Arianne and Aterro. "Thank you," he expresses his genuine appreciation to both of the them. Khors has a prayer of healing that he could recite, so they let him keep it for next time. We may not get a good night's rest in this Shadow Realm.
The prophet enjoys the view from the ferry across the chasm hoping to get a feel for where they are traveling in the sun-ignored realm.
"Thanks everyone." Ingryd says as she rests in the cart and grabs her drink. Taking a drink she smiles.
"I needed that"
Scramsax continued to dream his little dreams among the honeyhairs.
The lumbering troll spirit grows more and more corporeal as time passes. Although his flesh is still a dark, shadow gray you can no longer see through his bulky mass. Seeing Gunnar reattach the bell the shadow troll shrugs his shoulders and lets forth a mild sigh.
"I suppose it was inevitable..." The troll mutters, his words like his body becoming more solid and less aetherial with each passing moment. "Only a matter of time before someone broke the siege." The loud banging of a hammer pounding on stubborn equipment is shortly followed by the screeching grind of old gears slowly returning to life. "But I must admit....I've enjoyed the vacation." A quick nod of appreciation to Aterro as the paladin performs a bit of quick maintenance on the big hinges of the ferry gate. "Those have been a bother for long as I can remember. Though I'll probably miss the fine squeal they made in a decade or two."
With all in readiness, Gunnar carefully guides the mules...who with each passing moment seriously consider placing a potent curse upon the stable master who sold them into this current situation...and wagon onto the ferry. The structure creaks and groans but holds firm enough as the wagon creeps aboard. Ingryd is the last to climb aboard, the troll raising the gate and pinning it closed moments after the bearkin steps into the cart to grab the nearest jug.
There is a momentary rush of weightlessness when the troll finally begins to turn the massive wheel near the center of the contraption and the ferry slips free of the dock. It bobs and sway with every motion as it slowly slides away from the canyon rim and out across the open expanse.
Despite the twilight the view is still something to behold. More than a mile deep by any estimate. The bottom of the massive chasm is hidden in gloom and shadow. While the distant far side is equally shrouded in mystery. A handful of wistful clouds float in the indigo sky. Somewhere in the depths below a beast growls. Another screeches it's death call and then all is silent again except the grinding of the chains and squeak-squeak-squeak of the ferrytroll's wheel.
The moment of tranquility provides opportunity for healing as Arianna and Aterro see the everyone's wounds while Scramsax and Ingryd partake of a more traditional method of dealing with the agitation and injury of combat.
You flash a look at the ferrytroll, but he seems unbothered. Cautiously you reach out, place your hand on the side of the ferry. You pull it back almost as if it were on fire. There is definitely a vibration. From what or where, you can't be sure.
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"Siege? Vacation? What mean you, master ferryman?" Aterro inquires, having lead Phobos onto the odd contraption. "I see no signs of siegcraft. Surely that abomination was but a random and unfortunate happenstance, yes?
But soft, how long have you remained idle? And what was life before your, ah, vacation?"
Aterro, in wonderment at the swaying contraption, idly puts his hand to the side of the craft. "Tell, master ferryman, does your craft always hum like this?"
Arianna pulls out her current journal and begins sketching the scene before her. For a moment, she silently laments that she has no paints. Other than that, she happily indulges in her artistic side.
Gunnar continues his studies, trying to calm his mind and recharge his magical capabilities.
Ingryd takes another drink and then settles in to take a quick nap. As she does she pulls Scram around to cradle him on her chest like a small child.
After a bit of surveying the scenery, Luthael settles down and prays to Khors.
Without a sun to indicate dawn or dusk, he decides that the sun is ever-present just hidden, as opposed to never here. The philosophical perception brings him as much comfort as possible, all things considered.
The troll pauses his constant slow turning of the handled wheel to look at Aterro. The single bushy brow furrows in bewilderment as he runs a hand across his balding head. The ferry grinds to a gently swaying stop high, high above the canyon floor and still a good half day's ride across the massive expanse. The creak of the wagon shifting with the motion and the occasional snort of a nervous mule is the only sound as the troll places his large hands upon the wall of the ferry.
"Hmmmm....that is not usual." The troll grumbles moving toward the front of the ferry to peer into the vast distance along the chain.
It takes a moment but anyone else following the troll's action and feeling the ferry's frame feels the odd vibration rippling through the wood. After several minutes you each feel as though it might be getting stronger.
At the front of the ferry, the troll reaches up a long arm and grabs the cold metal for several seconds. The move causes the ferry to bob in the air awkwardly and the mules stamp and stomp their consternation over such a reckless action. Finally, he lets go and nods to himself as much as anyone else.
"Something's moving along the chain." The ferry captain says with a shrug of his shoulders. "Probably be along in a turn of the glass." He says gazing at the sandglass built into the side of the mechanism powering the ferry across the canyon and then goes back to turning the wheel. A few moments later the ferry lurches forward once again. Clicking and grinding its way toward whatever was approaching.
Absent the neverending warmth of Ingryd's backhairs, Scramsax the Swaddled soon drifted awake hearing word of chains and glass. Putting his feet up in the bear's claws while stealing bite after bite of honey, a little lump in his pocket started to make an insectoid chittering resembling cicadas or similar. "Huh?" Scram looked down to see a tiny crayfish wriggling its way free, drenched in sweat and slightly red like a boiled lobster.
"Damnit what the hell, man...hot. Too hot!" Coin lamented, switching out its little sweater for a tank top.
"Bear hair aint cold, am I right Griz?" giving Ingryd a fist bump, earning a scowl from his familiar. "Say Coin, how's a walk sound? Threat on the chain, so the troll says. Up for a scout?"
"Beats the hell out of whatever you two are doing. But if I come back and you're in a diaper and drinking from a bottle I'm going to have to rethink my allegiances..." the rainbow crayfish warned before heading into the darkness.
"Wait! I'll come with ya, in mind anyways. Heh, just like old times, eh?" Scram's eyes then rolled back into his head, producing a pair of unsettling ivory orbs that no longer paid attention to the barbarian's jangling ring of keys or picture book of talking bears.
Luthael finishes his prayer to Khors and stands. "Something is climbing toward us on the chain?" The prophet asks incredulously.
"Fairy troll. What do you know which could climb across that chain?" He asks their guide while donning his shield.
Arianna puts away her journal and her sketching supplies before grabbing her bow.
"This is a Shadow Road. I doubt it's friendly whatever it is," she tells Luthael.
Ingryd yawns and then looks at Scram nods and gives him a weird fist bump.
"I was just getting to the good part" She says as she pulls her cup and takes a swig.
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Aterro frowned at this new news, but otherwise was not bothered by it. He stretched out, still at ease. In perhaps half a turn he would stretch out his senses to see if there was great folly in their erstwhile guest, but this news bothered him not a whit. Either it would be nothing, in which case why worry? Or it will be a great evil, another challenge for him to overcome. And this good to. So why worry?
Scram's face goes slack as the halfling's psychic self kicks a half eaten pizza and a killed off six pack from Coin's mental sofa and settles in for the ride. The little familiar scurries up the rotating gears, barely avoiding getting caught between a set of grinding teeth, and onto the chain. There's no time to catch its breath as the rolling wheel of the ferry rumble steady along with each troll powered turn of the drive below. Given the dizzying height, the need to keep moving is a boon for the crawfish as it skips and scuttles along the narrow metallic walkway.
A hundred feet out and coin sees nothing but twilight dimming into darkness all along the length. Then the ferry comes to a halt again. Giving the tiny familiar a moment to rest.
"That is a good question." The troll rumbles scratching the top of his head in thought. "I suppose there's more'n a few. Once had a flock of harpy's roosting on the line. Had to clear them off the hard way. There there was that time a bunch of shadow elves tried crossing on foot." A massive snort that flares his nostrils and has them flapping like hopped up stirge. "Barely got to them in time. Bunch of fool academy students out to prove something. Proved how damned stupid students are. They ran out of steam about twelve miles across."
He starts to tick off a few more possibilities on his fingers. "Korrigans, pixies, shadow spiders, gremlins, any number of fiends or demons might choose to do such a thing, although I can't really say why. " He furrows his brow and proceeds on. "Suppose an undead could make the crossing well enough. They've not much fear of falling. Spirits as well, although they'd be less likely to move the chain about like that. Could go one. There's the Snakes of Ezrim, nasty creatures they are. Crafted by a wizard to guard his tower, only the snakes a mind for other things. So they ate old Ezrim and set about crossing the shadow lands eating, mating, and sleeping as they saw fit. Damned fifty foot menaces them creatures."
Do you know what that sound is, Highness? Those are the shrieking eels! If you don't believe me, just wait. They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh!
"Looks like you got a bad tip, Scramburglar. What in the name of hell could live in that twilight darkness?" pointing with its oversized clacker.
"I've seen things, Coin. I've seen things...just wait, score will turn up. Always does." lighting a pipe with a match before suddenly realizing he was pure thought.
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"Their is a light m9v8ng towards us and its big. I'm surprised you didn't see it Scram?" She says with a chuckle. The bearing slowly stands and flings her hammer up and around over her shoulder.
"*ccckcckkkkblarrrhhhhh*" the chunk of nasty halfling flesh with solid white eyes seemed to say to the bear, completely void of any sentience or even remote response to external stimuli.
Finishing his studies, Gunnar expends the arcane energy he just recovered to grant flight to Ingryd and Aterro again.
"Fair warning, ferryman, I am a devotee of Thor. Once battle starts, if I start casting a spell, it may be best for you to keep your hands off the metal chain," says Gunnar, preparing himself for battle.
"Are you with me, Sylvia?" he asks mentally as he equips his shield, still hoping his ally will return presently.
Arianna finds the pull of her curiosity too strong to make more than a token attempt at peering through the gloom.
"Mister Ferryman, may I have your name so that I may properly ask you to tell me those tales. I've plenty of room in my journal for them."
The elf's eyes are a brilliant sky blue, like the color of a cloudless summer day, and the symbol she wears around her neck glows a bit brighter, as if it is as eager to hear more as its wearer is.
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"Probably some local fisherman out for a pleasure cruise at night through eel-infested water."
Aterro had slipped into a light doze, but as he feels gravity once more let slip his earthly bonds, he knows that it's time to punch in and go to the office.
"Here we go again, good Ingryd," he says, nodding acknowledgment to their royal wizard Gunnar. "'Tis no natural thing to be out and about, so if it be shadow elf students or Snakes of Ezrim, we best be about it.
Stay thy hand, ferry master. Whatever it is that walks on the chain is about to find out how dangerous that could be. It will soon see this ferry as the safest ground about."
With that Aterro again swoops into the air like an Asgardian Valkyrie. And like the blond beautiful maidens, he too has a mind to usher a soul into the afterlife. But with a much more active roll.
"Yeah and this time I hope it would have waited for me to get a good long rest" Ingryd says as she looks over her clothes and smiles.
"Let's just hope my dress doesn't get as damaged this time." She says as she then gestures to the chain and the light.
"Though not sure what that light is, but yeah should be an interesting fight" The bearkin says getting a couple tight practice swings.
Luthael had managed a short rest during his prayers, so he had restored his spell-casting potential. He squinted into the gloom looking for the light that Ingryd had spotted but failed.
The distant fiery figure slowly grows in size as does the vibration of its movements upon the heavy chain.
"Hrmmm?" Ponders the ferry troll, his own gaze lingering on the phenomenon along with all others aboard his wooden craft. "I think it wise to reverse course. I'd rather not take another tumble into the deep." The troll grumbles. "Once was more than enough for me."
He throws a few levers and push a couple of nobs and then begins turning the big wheel in the opposite direction. A few moments later the ferry lurches into motion back toward the shore you departed from an hour or so ago.
But the speed of the retreating ferry does not outpace the speed of the oncoming enemy. Gunnar is the first to calculate the impending interception. Waiting until the enemy closes some of the distance, the dwarf summons forth his arcane power to once again grant his allies the power of flight.
With a mighty battle cry Aterro launches himself into the air. Ingryd follows along, although a bit less eager as concerns over the destruction of yet another set of garments flow through her mead clouded mind.
Meanwhile a trail of drool crawls down the side of Scramsax's chin and into one of the many hidden pockets lining the rogue's vest. There it gathers and pools, finding comfort in a forgotten, half eaten packet of trail ration. Unaware and uncaring, the halfling's concentration is focused toward the rear of the ferry which used to be the front.
Coin scuttles backward along the chain, his keen eyes doing their best to watch both ahead and behind. This is further hampered by his instinctual need to check above and below for any natural predators. Still the little familiar manages as best as possible under the circumstances.
As the forward (rearward?) eyes of the party, he gets the first, best glimpse of the approaching thing. And thing is what he first thinks of as the fiery mass churns closer in the twilight dimness. Flames billow outward angrily. Spitting and flaring several feet from a dark, thick, tar-like liquid core. That center flows and oozes along the chain, occasionally forming an almost humanoid set of legs and hands, sometimes up to two of three sets of each. But most often it is little more than a misshapen blob sliding along the chain like some oversized drop of molten pig fat.
For a moment Coin freezes in puzzlement, then it puts an ear down against the warming chain. The feeling of warmth leaves Coin cold as chilling words of burning hatred and pain and suffering echo in his tiny ear. What's more while there is only one visible enemy, there are at least a half dozen different voices drifting forth from its molten shape.
The same view and eventually the hate filled cries are what greet Aterro and Ingyrd as they make their approach from two hundred feet away, the ferry being another two hundred feet beyond.
"Damnit, where's that Ice Hyena when you need one." Scram grumbled, putting down his mental-bottle of 100 year old cognac and shooing away the group of bodacious babes taking turns giving him various massages.
"What's the play here, Scrammie?" Coin wondered, sharpening the chitinous edge of his clackers with a tiny whetstone.
"No play, just survive I guess. Heh, what am I saying? There's always an opportunity to be had...c'mon, I bet this troll flips its unfermented Troll Sh*t at even a mere tindertwig. Bet he's got some supplies stashed for this sort of thing...yeah...heh...the good stuff..." the halfling's annoying mumblings trailing off in Coin's conscious as Scram returned to Scram.
Popping awake in a pool of his slobber, the arcane dabbler flipped and rearranged a few mystic symbols Gunnar's spell had revealed at his wrist, a floating control panel for the familiar magics. Scram didn't have the slightest clue how it worked, but patterns and sequences were never too much for the smartypants thief. "Hey wait! You better cut me in on this..." the crayfish protested. Reassurances given, soon engouh Coin teleported from the chain into a relatively safe pocket dimension.
"Fire! Fire! FIRE!" launching into a bustle in a loud appeal to the troll "Where's your emergency stash, my warty capitan? Hoses. Buckets. Axes. Sand. Water. Fire-resistant suits that archmage left in the VIP suite. I'll take it all. We've a fire to fight! C'mon, christen me deputy of the fire brigade and give me full access to the ship, there's no time to lose." Keeping the troll's body between him and the approaching tarball.
As Aterro and Ingryd fly off, Luthael squints in the distance at the fiery creature, which is probably immune to fire. He considers his options with many of his go-to spells useless. After a few seconds, the prophet prays to Khors, "Oh Lord of Light! Please assign a guardian to protect this chain." Then, a Large spectral Guardian appears and hovers along the ferry chain. The Guardian occupies that space and is indistinct except for a gleaming sword and Shield emblazoned with the brilliant sun Symbol of Khors.
After the ferry moves 30 feet away from the Guardian, Luthael requests, "Ferry troll, please stop the ferry. We will defeat the creature here."
Pulling out a scroll of Magic Missile, Gunnar prepares to loose that spell when the creature is within 120 feet. He wracks his brain to think of what this creature might be and how best to fight it.
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"Oh by Ymir's icy halls what is that thing?" Aterro sputters as the fire-thing comes into view.
"Ingryd! We need not defeat this foe on our own. Let us fall back to a position where the others can aid us with their fire.
Let us stay 100 feet in front of the ferry. We can meet it there.
And...we can always fall back more."
Aterro dashes back 100 feet.
Ingryd whirls her hammer and then straps the hammer back to her back. She pulls out the hand axe and her shield and smiles.
"I think fire would be ba against this thing." Ingryd says as she moves back and readies for the oncoming monster.
"True, 100 feet seems fair. But it looks like a torch, so I'm not sure if the fire will work, if it does then I'll try to switch"
Ingryd moves back to 100 feet as well taking up a slightly lower position and covering Aterro's lower flank with her shield. Gratefully she had learned the basics of staggered formations with the rest of her bearkin growing up and will utilize the smaller weapon.
The most recent attempt, made by the now late Zanthor Zucklemuck, resulted in the destruction of one of Kammae Straboli's largest requiem dens and the release of thirteen Orobas Devils into the city. It took a decade for the last of the devils to finally be banished back into the depths of hell, and attempts at such arcane attempts were banned throughout most of the Seven Cities.
Thus your continued reliance on memory. Fortunately, your mind is well disciplined and quick with youthful energy. It also helps that only a year or so ago you recall encountering creatures of somewhat similar nature at the old inn which has now been renewed and rebuilt thanks to the efforts of the good people of Nargenstal. Ghoulish undead of the underground empire infused with tar as part of their very existence. When set alight they burned and set ablaze anything coming within close contact.
As you watch the oncoming creature, you can't help but consider that ghoulish foe. The semi liquid nature. The immunity to flame. The ghastly trapped undying souls. But in this case, it seems single separate entities were not enough for the malevolent arcanist's of the Ghoul Empire. It appears they've created a horror consisting of multiple beings combined into one terrible threat. What madness must run within the churning beast you can only imagine. What power such a transformation bestowed, you can only fear.
Scramsax returns to the world of the fully conscious after Coin steps back into the safety of his pocket dimension. Safe, but slightly damp as the familiar spirit finds his small cottage inundated by a flood of mead scented drool. Cursing the likely source of the drool, the familiar spends the next several days pulling out valuables, clothing, cherished mementos of prior services to various wizards including the heroic (and quite stunning) Jasmine Halfmoon, stout Bernard Gripplehaven, and, of course, the unfortunate Zanthor Zucklemuck. The memory of the poor fools final days still sends a shiver rippling through Coin's ectoplasmic being.
Completely unawares of the trials and tribulations of his familiar's personal abode, Scramsax attempts to browbeat the ferry captain into handing over the various regulation stipulated firefighting gear common enough on every Midgard licensed ferry. This being the shadow realms, the bushy browed troll simply furrows his suddenly singular caterpiller of a brow into a frown and waves a brief hand at the barren openness of the ferry's interior.
"What you see, is what there is." The troll says to the halfling before ceasing to turn the mighty flywheel at Luthael's request. The ferry lurches to a stop.
Gunnar's expression goes a bit blank and still. Only his shifting eyes following the progress of the burning beast and the swell of his chest reveal the dwarf's continued concentration.
Finally Ingryd and Aterro fall back to a more supported distance, the two flyers flanking either side of the chain as the churning undead mass of misery and flame oozes its way along the metal connection to east and west.
Steadily, it closes the distance. Quicker now that the ferry has stopped running. Within another few minutes Gunnar comes to life and unleashes a barrage of arcane darts at the approaching beast. Taking his cue from the dwarf, Luther summons a pack of Khors holy spirits at sets them as a barrier at the prow of the ferry.
The arcane darts slam into the creature eliciting a eerily, ear splitting screech. The beast replies as a trio of fiery arms appear from the central mass and hurl flaming balls of sticky burning tar at the dwarf. The first flaming mass slams into Gunnar spraying the dwarf in sticky burning flames. The second sails high over the ferry and eventually falls into the canyon below. The third hits the front of the ferry where it sits there hissing, popping and sizzling against the bone dry wood.
Tar Ghoul Conflagration: 198/198
As the tar ball comes straight at him, Gunnar makes a quick arcane gesture and reinforces his arcane ward, trying to shield himself from the incoming attack.
(Reaction to use shield to improve AC from 21 to 26 for a round and add 2 to his arcane shield).
"What you see, is what there is."
Scram remembered the earlier trick with the ferry being completely shrouded, so was on-his-toes for further illusions. When someone tells you to just believe what you see, they're probably pulling one over on you. Such was the gut-instincts of the moron as he explored the barren interior with tactile and olfactory senses, looking for supplies out of sight.
== 30 total
Seeing the Flaming Tarbaby from Hell, Arianna nocks an arrow with another waiting in her hand as she takes aim at the thing.
When the flaming undead creature gets close enough, Luthael snaps off bolt of holy radiance. "Praise be to Khors!"
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Aterro cranes his neck to follow the exchange of artillery fire. He sees the trio of red and flaming arrows leave the creature and impact along the heavy-wrought ferry and arcane shielding.
He sees the return fire from his Thor-brother thunk into the thing in answer.
Aterro looks in front of him.
He looks behind him.
He looks in front of him.
He looks behind him.
He looks in front of him again, and grimaces.
He looks behind him again, and grimaces. Then he nods.
He looks in front of him. And smiles.
"Ingryd!!! The moment I have seen coming is nigh! Let us lay a trap for this foul beast and catch it in a vice!
Move you back another 20 feet and await its coming! I shall wait at your shoulder and to the flank and, perhaps, end it in a swift blow!"
Aterro assumes his Guise of War, taking on the appearance of a MIGHTY warrior, straight from the Asgardian Hall. He has no hope that such mortal concerns as fear for one's life might sway this creature, but there are more tools than this to hand.
aaaand then his spell goes off.
The spell on the weapon is Thunderous Smite. The creature takes an extra
.
AND! Must also succeed on a Strength Saving Throw (DC14) or be "be pushed 10 feet away from you and knocked prone."
The Prone thing is all whatever, but if it's knocked back 10 feet...off the chain, then things will get...well boring, because it'll fall and die. But it'll be funny to me. =)
And if FEAR affects it that's a DC 14 WIS save or be Frightened.
Second attack!
Ingryd looks at Aterro and raises a brow but acquiesces to his order. She keeps the shield in front of her and the hand axe raised is a wide but ready-to-strike position.
Two attacks with her Hand Axe attached with the magical bauble when it comes close.
Flaming tar splatters and pops and hisses against Gunnar's quickly deployed arcane shield, leaving the dwarf protected behind it's stout defense. Bits of the flaming tar drop to the dry wooden floor of the ferry.
Having been fooled one too many times by fey trickery and their shadowy cousins, Scramsax conducts a complete and thorough search of the ferry. Knocking on wooden surfaces, sniffing at greasy machinery, the halfling even goes so far as to poke a suspicious finger into a pile of mule apples that could've just be an illusionary deterrence. They aren't. Nor are any hidden treasure troves of firefighting equipment or gemstones discovered. Coin does take note of which finger his new master used in this wild search so he can be certain to avoid any encounter with the currently contaminated digit.
Meanwhile, Luthael and Arianna unleash a flurry of light and feathered steel against the gooey mass of encroaching undead fire. Luthael's radiant spear pierces the oozing creature, but like his other radiant magics, it seems muted within the confines of the shadow realm. Arianna's arrow fly into the undead abomination sinking into its black tar flesh. But little can be seen of their effect as each arrow is engulfed in flame and quickly turned to ash.
Aterro and Ingryd fall back a few paces further. The beast obligingly continues to close the distance until finally the paladin gives a shout and both knight and barbarian rush into the midst of the blazing mass to lash with axe and mace. Foul caustic air and unbearable heat greet the attacking heroes as they unleash their offensive. Thunder roars, with Aterro's first blow. The holy power of his god ripples through the many souled ghoulish creation, but it is not enough to pry the ooze from its perch upon the chain. It is enough to elicit a pained screech as burning masses of tar burst from each blow. Dozens of flaming tar balls splatter across knight and bearkin with each blow they deliver. Flesh and clothing sear and sizzle threatening to turn the two into flying torches.
But the blows do diminish the foe somewhat. Already a third of its mass seems to have been blasted by holy light, missiles arcane and mundane, as well as the stinging blows of axe and mace. But diminished is not vanquished, and the beast briefly grows a pair of head-like pseudopods that twist and ripple into being. Blackened maws open wide and vomit forth a filthy sticking blast of burning liquid tar at its two flying assailants.
Tar Ghoul Conflagration: 129/198
Arianna, too far to offer any encouraging words to Ingryd and Aterro, she instead offers them to Luthael.
"Shine bright, son of Khors! Let that foul beast know what light is truly like!"
Words offered, she continues to whittle the thing away with her arrows.
It was certainly one of the Top5 stinky things Scram's little finger had penetrated, but such historical analysis would have to wait. With no hope for the fire-vulnerable troll nor their ferry, the thief resolved to help his pals beat the ball of tar into submission.
How are we handling crits? Double dice? Double damage? Roll twice the dice?