Oh boy, this is gonna be a doozy! One last spell before I dive in there... Unless Apothyl brings those mighty sharp claws of hers, it's gonna be me and the Lord! Booker gets closer before adding another layer of protection to himself.
________
Fenrir loops around Orlogg, snapping his jaws at the fiendish creature, attempting to bring it down.
Meanwhile Brandt steps back and fires two arrows in rapid succession at the newly summoned creature, trying to bring it low as quickly as he can. but misses with both arrows.
Glancing to his right, Christian sees the majority of his group fighting some hideous creature. What he does not see is the dragon and a somewhat mischievous halfling.
They are out here somewhere but where. I need to trust that they will do what is right and at the most beneficial time. Now I have two enemies coming at me right now. Hit and fade towards the others or full out advance. Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Looking down at his reflection in the shallow water brings a smile to his face. So chaotic of a scene, not his usual self.
Hit and fade...brings them closer to the rest of the group.
Ok you wicker basket. I think it is time to go on a diet. You are a little big around the waist there. You really telegraphed that swing, try not to over extend your attack. It leaves you open...
...to counter attacks like this one.
Stepping back towards his friends, opens up the combat a bit.
Dropping his blade into a defensive stance brings a little comfort to the mercenary leader.
Bydar finds himself forced to break into a sprint just to keep the battle in view
Syretia backs away from the creature as it materializes, horrified by its appearance. Still, she keeps her head and stays focused on supporting Christian. She shouts a quick incantation and conjures a layer of grease under the feet of the cultist and his guardian, trying to knock them flat on their asses.
Syretia recalls an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the aberrant creature in their midst.
The two major foes remaining manage to maintain their footing, even as Christian engages the walking effigy and works to hack away at the protections laid upon it.
At the rear of the sanctum, you can vaguely hear Apothyl growl something in Draconic. She charges across the ceiling and leaps down, turning with the agility of a cat, to attack the cult leader from behind. Her bite catches him by surprises, and briefly clamps onto him like a vice.
He responds by swiftly reinforcing his armor with divine power before turning his flaming ranseur upon the copper dragon. He leaves a pair of burning slashes across her flanks, besting the protection of her scales.
The graven guardian seems to move more quickly as it draws upon the unholy power vested within it, and it moves out of the greased area to continue its duel with Christian.
Brandt advances so he can see Apothyl and the cult leader, realizing he doesn't have a clear shot, he spins to fire an arrow quickly into the fiendish abomination near the party.
While Fenrir continues to attempt to attack the thing, snapping his jaws at it.
However, neither the ranger, nor his faithful companion can land a telling blow on the monster.
Bydar moves forward and fires his crossbow at the abomination that was summoned
Christian smiles big when he sees the dragon appear but then winces as the cultist returns the favor. Once again looking over his shoulder at the creature that the others are attacking, Christian formulates a plan.
We out number them and have a tactical advantage right now. I need to give them some time to kill something.
Really...You made it a speedster as well. Compensating much. What is wrong cultist, worried that you will see your goddess soon and she will be upset with your lack of performance?
Try and avoid getting hit.
"Okie-dokie, here we go!" Booker whispers to himself, his hand crackling with electricity. "I'M COMING LORD CHRISTIAN!" he screams as he comes careening around the corner.
Slipping under the Dragon's body, he pops out and taps the Cult leader on the leg. A burst of electricity explodes from his hand and into the poor sap.
________
Orlog aims at the creature again, but the shapeless creature moves at the last second and avoid the hit. "Hold on Christian, this thing is slipperier than it look. I'll be there as soon as I can."
I have the middle bottled up for now. Apothyl...
hearing the words spoken and the electrical discharge brings a chuckle to his lips.
...and booker have the left flank.
destroy that thing and we can roll the right flank.
A flank attack from an invisible dragon is a hard act to follow, but Booker is up to the task. The brave halfling completes this one-two punch of surprise attacks by clapping his hand upon the cult leader's black steel greave. Behind his jackal-faced helm, he howls in pain as jolts of electricity race through his armor and into his muscles and nerves courtesy of Booker's spell.
The battle against the fiendish aberration fares poorly, as the amorphous creature twists and contorts unnaturally to avoid the strikes from Orlog, Brandt, and Fenrir. Bydar's aim is true, and his bolt actually strikes the creature's bulk, but it fails to pierce the thing's hide. Three of its maws extend out and snatch the bolt's shaft, snapping it to splinters.
Despite the Lamashtu effigy's sudden burst of speed and the profane protections laid upon it, Lord Christian manages to deal a doughty blow - cutting away bits of wood and clay from its glamered form.
= Success
= Success
Syretia aims another arcane bolt for the mouther, but as its maws extend and swirl around, her magic shot goes wide.
The mouther's many maws reach out to bite Orlog and Fenrir. In each case, two mouths bite down upon them, grappling them and beginning to draw blood from the wounds.
Apothyl delivers an onslaught against the cult leader, striking with tooth, claw, tail, and wing.
The cult leader stabs at Booker with his ranseur, but the nimble halfling manages to dance around each burning thrust. When the Lamshtan draws upon his fervor to cast a healing spell upon himself, me manages to avoid an opportunistic bite from Apothyl.
The Lamashtan effigy strikes at Christian rapidly with its profanely sharp blade. It lands two painful wounds, but the nobleman's skill at arms manages to prevent them from being mortal injuries.
OK here comes the pain. Typical horizontal swing with a follow up lunge. S~$@, damn water is slowing me down. Turn, turn, turn.
Christian ducks under the first swing and then steps to the side of the second attack. He realized that his movement is weighted down by the water and he tries in vain to avoid the last attack. Fortunately for him he shifts enough to avoid most of the blade but still takes a hit.
The mercenary leader looks to Booker and nods. He then steps closer to the Cult leader and in range of his polearm.
Fenrir wrestles with the beast, attempting to wriggle out of the grapple of the mouther...
Brandt wrests his Ulfen Axe from his back, and closes the distance with the cult leader, dropping a massive overhand swing at the armored foe.
Bydar's eyebrow arches up as his bolt does nothing despite one of his better shots Shelyn, I'm going to need a better weapon And he invokes
He moves past the sorceress hoping to position himself better for future healing of both groups but for now he calls out [B]"From her brother did she grasp the instrument of damnation, and by her love for him redeemed it"
A shimmering glaive of spiritual force appears, and lashes at the gibbering creature
(I got damage wrong on above as it should have been a d10, but that's my bad)
Syretia reformulates the spell she just cast and flips it around, this time directed at Fenrir. "Let him go!" she shouts at the horrific beast, as her spell coats the wolfdog in a layer of magical grease.
Orlog tries to fight off the mass of mouth, but just can't seem to connect a good hit. "Will you stay put for a moment?"
Unfortunately unarmed except for a lean piece of leather, Booker settles for giving the Cult Leader a hearty boop on the nose! "Got your nose!" he taunts.
Rubbing his palms together, a considerable amount of electricity surges between them. When the Cultist glances over his shoulder to keep tabs on his allies, the Halfling leaps as high as he can. As the Cultist's face turns back towards him, it is intercepted by a wicked as his little hand strikes his cheek. "Just kidding, you can have it back!" Curls of smoke leave the poor man's skin as he his jolted yet again.
Hot damn, that was one fer tha History Books! He pulls a club from his belt, eager for more!
________
With great speed and guile, Booker delivers yet another burst of electricity through the cult leader's armor. So much magical electricity courses through him that it brings him to the bring of death - a mighty swing from Brandt's Ulfen axe shows him the rest of the way to the Boneyard.
Christian continues to prove that he is more than a match for the graven guardian, parrying strikes despite the foe's increased speed and delivering his own bladed replies.
Now that the way has been cleared, following the death of the cult leader, Apothyl bounds upon the adjacent wall. She rears back and unleashes a stream of acid from her jaws that coats the graven guardian. It soon melts into a bubbling heap of clay, wicker, and bone.
With Syretia's magical aid, Fenrir breaks free from the mouther's grasp.
Orlog's strike fails to break the creature's grasp upon him, though, and soon the amorphous mass begins to engulf him. Its countless maws bite at the dwarven holy man. An unholy sound begins to emanate from the aberration as it celebrates this soon-to-be meal.
Brandt crosses to the summoned abomination, again chopping down with his axe, sliding his hands to the bottom of the haft.
Fenrir, being freed from the thing's grasp bites at it again.
Fenrir's powerful jaws clamp down upon a chunk of the amorphous aberration's bulk. Besides tearing away some of its toothy maws, this serves the greater purpose of stretching it out and holding it still so his master can deliver his axe's bite.
With one powerful stroke, Brandt cleaves the monster in twain - or at least, as best as you can judge to be in twain, given its shapeless nature. It collapses into two quivering heaps of flesh and teeth.
Orlog rips free from one of the halves, hurling it off in a fitful motion akin to doffing a bloody cloak.
The battle is won, and the Lamashtan cult is put down.
Bydar says "Orlog" And moves to the dwarf with haste, "Thought we lost you."
"Is that all of 'em?" Booker asks, shamelessly looking through the leader's pockets.
________
Christian is releaved when the last enemy is put down.
Is everyone ok?
Looking around at the others, he smiles as they are all still standing.
Tend to your wounds, gather what we can from the cultists...magical and mundane.
He pulls forth a small cloth and tries to stop his wound from bleeding.
Booker, this is just the beginning. We have more enemies to fight and it will not be so easy of a battle.
He smiles at the halfling.
You did good back there.
Turning to the others.
You all did great.
Walking towards the dragon.
Apothyl, thank you for fighting with us. Your wounds will be tended to soon.
"Indeed, all gather round, please." Bydar will gather all wounded about him, including Fenrir, or , more likely, gather everyone around Booker with him as the halfing's already digging pockets. Regardless...
"A start." He says as the rose hued goal heals all just a little.
He now works on individuals, Orlog first, "That abomination seems to have sickened you." Praying softly, he touches the dwarf's shoulder.
And another wave of holy light all about them,
Brandt looks from where the abomination lay upon the ground, Aye, fine here. That flaming weapon will be helpful, Christian, do you want to take it up for us?
The Lamashtan priest's weapon is the most obvious prize among the spoils. However, the man's spiked armor also radiates an aura of magic.
The scimitar previously wielded by the graven guardian, though appearing to have been made by a skilled elven smith, possesses no magic outside the grip of its constructed wielder.
Portions of treasures sit heaped at the foot of the stone altar upon which the effigy once stood. Some of them register as enchanted.
"I recognize these items," Apothyl says, breathing slightly easier as Bydar's divine power closes her wounds. "It seems my egg was not the only thing these wretches saw fit to steal. Whilst Mercifax has been rampaging across the region, it seems they have been sneaking through these tunnels to help themselves to the treasures in the home we once shared."
Apothyl edges closer to the treasures at the foot of the unholy shrine. She inspects and nudges certain items that appear broken. She heaves a pained sigh.
"It may come as a surprise to you, but rather than Apsu or some traditional draconic deity, I always harbored a faith in Desna. I had quite the collection that I was proud of and dedicated to the North Star, and here I find it, broken and smashed as mere offerings to the Mother of Monsters."
Apothyl's broken treasures include a silver and gilded altar service, but the candlesticks, paten, bowl, and chalice have all been rendered as bent and melted lumps of metal, mere shadows of their former beauty. At least eleven holy symbols of Desna in different motifs also lie here, either hunks of twisted metal or charred lumps of wood.
A small white gold statuette of Desna sits utterly smashed, with only the lapis stones and small diamonds once set in her wings having survived.
Back in the common room, you find that the cultists also helped themselves to some of the tarnished gourmet Mercifax's collection. Silver cheese knives set with turquoise, silver platters with elaborate arabesque etchings upon their surface, a set of six matching brass tankards that the cultists treated with greater reverence than Apothyl's Desnan items. Casks of ale, bottles of wine, wheels of cheese, and jars of candied fruits also sit upon impromptu shelves.
"You can keep Mercifax's treasures. This will be but a pittance towards repaying the wrongs he has done," the dragon mother states.
+1 flaming ranseur
+1 armor spikes full plate
MWK scimitar
A carved and gold-chased ivory tusk, scrimshawed with motifs of billowing clouds. Enchanted to serve as a horn of fog. From his sailing days, Brandt recognizes the craftsmanship being akin to that of Issian sailors around the Lake of Mists and Veils
MWK bastard sword in darkwood scabbard (worth 150gp)
Silver and turquoise cutlery set (200gp)
Silver serving sets (400gp)
Six brass tankards (300gp for the set)
3120 cp
3930 sp
1401 gp
47 pp
Apothyl edges closer to the treasures at the foot of the unholy shrine. She inspects and nudges certain items that appear broken. She heaves a pained sigh.
"It may come as a surprise to you, but rather than Apsu or some traditional draconic deity, I always harbored a faith in Desna. I had quite the collection that I was proud of and dedicated to the North Star, and here I find it, broken and smashed as mere offerings to the Mother of Monsters."
"I am not a Desnan, obviously, but she is a goodly goddess who I have no doubt understands your plights and troubles and worries more for you and your young one than for things."
Bydar does sigh at the objects of beauty that were destroyed though. Art dedicated to a good goddess, now undone and defiled.
"You can keep Mercifax's treasures. This will be but a pittance towards repaying the wrongs he has done," the dragon mother states.
"Very kind" But as much as he admires the beauty, his glance goes back to the shrine of the Demon Mother. "Wish I had time for proper purification of this."
"Lost me? Ridiculous! It is only that I like to dive head first into my problems." He eyes out the armor from the cult leader. "Then again, if I had an armor like that, creatures would think twice about pulling that type of stunt. Maybe something to think about once we get back home."
Christian eyes the polearm.
Yes I am able to use such a weapon and if no one is willing to use it, I will do so.
He turns to the others.
...but I am not as good at it as I am the sword. I will be much slower but I can use it.
Approaching the dwarf.
That would make some fine armor for you.
Glancing to were Bydar is looking.
When we are finished we can destroy altar.
Christian approaches Apothyl.
A dragon that looks to Desna for direction...I understand. Everyone should follow what is in their heart. While I do not worship Apsu, I do try and listen to the teachings.
He looks down at her items.
I am no mage but I have watch some of my people use spells that fix items. We used one to repair a catapult once. Scared the hell out of the orcs when it was put to use. I am wondering if it could do the same thing for your items...repair them? We can look into it after we finish with our business here.
He turns to the group as a whole.
Once everyone is healed up and has what the need for the upcoming conflict, we should get moving right away. Eranex will be needing our help.
"You're right," Apothyl agrees. "There are more important matters than my broken collection. I won't let Eranex have even the ghost of a reason to suggest I didn't do my part to help out."
A long series of twisting, serpentine tunnels wind between this chamber in old Silverstep's lair and the one where the evil fey have been squatting. Assuming that Eranex has kept Orsig and his cohorts distracted with negotiations in the meantime, you should arrive behind them.
If the items are beyond magic to fix...perhaps some of our craftsman can do something.
Gathering what you quickly can, you take one of the other tunnels branching off from this corner of the vast network of caverns and make your careful march towards the haunt of the dark fey.
The green of the tunnels soon gives way to rime and frost. The air grows crisp, and you can see your breath hanging in the air. An unnatural cold taints this portion of Silverstep's lair.
You have little time to examine or appreciate this fact when a thunderous sound echoes towards you. The source is far ahead, yet so terrible is the racket that it carries with the force of the stampede. Bits of stone and frost flake down from above as mighty tremors shake the earth around you.
Apothyl tenses, like a cat on alert.
"I fear words have failed Eranex. The battle has begun without us."
You pick up your feet and hasten your pace to aid your other draconic ally. All the while, the sounds of a cataclysmic struggle grow ever stronger, hitting your ears like the pounding of a drum. The beating of your hearts and thrum of your lungs keeps you warm even as the tunnels grow yet colder around you. Finally, the passage opens up into a massive chamber, and an awesome yet woeful sight greets you.
Eranex lies pinned upon a frozen pond, the shards of shattered stalagmite-like icicles scattered around her. An impossibly enormous worm, covered with dark purple plates of chitinous armor, keeps its bulk wrapped around her hind limbs and tail. Its giant, tooth-filled mouth - the size of an ox - leers above her, though it seems to hold its killing bite.
Chains of cold iron have been draped over the silver dragon, keeping her pinned down. These chains are held by a trio of ephemeral women, their limbs and even their clothes shifting like clouds of smoke. Only the porcelain-like masks upon their face serve as constants in their mutable forms.
A terrible knight upon a skeletal steed stands to the side, savoring the sight of his fallen foe. Jagged, twisting antlers of dark-blue ice crown the black helmet of this cold warrior, his face obscured by the heavy cheek and nose guard. He hoists aloft a mighty two-handed sword, its thick blade glowing with a deep purple light.
"My new pet, Porphyrio, has taken you by surprise," the cold rider's voice hisses, like an icy north wind. "but only I may have the pleasure of ending your line. Only fitting that the same blade should fell both father and child."
"I fear words have failed Eranex. The battle has begun without us."
Well, we knew it was only a matter of time before words would fail.
As the increase their speed.
Start casting your spells. There is no telling what trouble Eranex is causing. When we get closer be prepared for a long and hard fight.
When they come on the chamber and see the current situation. He looks at the group in front of them judging the situation at hand. His mind taking in all before them and trying to formulate a plan of action.
Well this is going swimmingly. Booker do your thing. Apothyl, think you can help Eranex? Bydar do you think you can heal the dragons? The rest well chose your targets and do your best. I am going in to see what I can do with the big guy. Let us see how well this weapon does.
Christian moves forward drawing forth the big polearm.
Orlog increase his defense before stepping in the cave.
Brandt follows Christian's lead moving ahead, seeing the giant worm, the ranger tenses, fitting an arrow to his bow preparing to begin firing arrows as fast as he can draw them at the giant monstrosity.
Wracking his brain, he tries to think of the tales he's been told of giant worm monsters....
By all that is Holy! Booker traces Desna's wings over his heart before chasing after Lord Christian. If he's in charge, ain't no way I'm lettin' our Lord take 'im on 'is own!
________
Syretia nearly stumbles to a halt as she spots the enormous worm, her mind racing to identify the creature. Quickly reciting any useful facts she happens to recall in the heat of the moment, she then vanishes into thin air.
Bydar has to bite down on a curse. He had hoped to cast his spells on others before the second battle began, but at least he can get one off, "I'll try to get closer to Eranax but first."
A breath as he moves he taps Lord Christian, "Shelyn's love enfold thee, Shelyn's love hold thee. Keep the winter's hate at bay."
"Make it count, Lord and draw their ire while I heal."
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Brandt and Syretia recognize the massive Porphyrio as a purple worm, the scourge of the deep regions of the world. They are notorious for swallowing the prey whole. In fact, it is not unheard of for an entire party of explorers to vanish down the gullet of the worm.
Apothyl bristles as Orsig boasts of slaying both Eranex and her father. This comment clearly rankles the copper dragon, nearly losing her own child so recently. She casts a spell, though the invocation sounds akin to a curse in draconic.
With an incensed roar, the purple worm thrashes wildly as its bulk topples upon the ice with a crash that sends tremors racing through the walls. You can see a patch of magical grease upon the ice, right beneath the worm's body as it writhes around to regain its "footing." This releases Eranex from the worm's grasp, but she still shows difficulty breaking free from the cold iron chains held by the Glimmer Sisters.
"My love! New foes!" Herrketa calls out, pointing towards you. She re-aims her finger for a point between the party and her cold rider consort, then raises a silver icon of an eye in her other hand to cast a spell.
The cold air darkens and coalesces into a trio of bodies made of pure shadow, appearing in a row between you and Orsig.
Booker moves forward to Lord Christian's flank. Cracking his scroll like a whip, he disappears from view.
________
Orsig growls, a plume of frozen breath wafting out from his helmet. His lover's misguided attempt to protect him has conjured a barrier of shadowy bodies that keeps him from charging the new adversaries. Nevertheless, he is quite please to have the time to finish his hated foe.
He raises his fell sword and spurs his icy skeletal steed onward. However, Eranex lashes out quickly with her tail and delivers a grazing blow to the cold rider. This seems enough to deflect his aim so that his powerful strike does not find the dragon's flesh.
The shae Glimmer sisters focus on holding the cold iron chains with all their might, keeping the powerful silver dragon prone until their ally can execute her.
Brandt points at the nearest Fey thing holding down Eranex, and Fenrir bounds the intervening distance at one go, closing with snapping jaws. Brandt lets fly a pair of arrows over his faithful hound's head aiming for the closest thing binding the mighty Silver Dragon.
With no other enemy in range, Orlog increase his defense even more before charging the giant worm. Let's hope that this thing is too distracted with the dragon to notice little old me.