Melech runs upstairs to get Ulysses, who is just putting the finishing touches on his second smelling salts of the day. When Melech shares the news, Ulysses jumps up and grabs his things, evidently just as eager as the rest to get moving today. He also knocks on Filibus's door to see if he would like to join them.
At the Mausoleum, Melech stops a moment to thank Bal and ask if Nevai has been brought here yet, then leads the party inside to turn in their findings and attain their next assignment.
Bal shakes her head. "I doubt it. We only got things under control in the last hour or so. Word probably only just reached the gates. But if you are willing to wait inside, it is likely your friend will arrive within the hour."
Inside, the mood is subdued. All the acolytes and functionaries look rattled, and the tables set up for the purchase of items from adventurers is empty save for a pair of priests manning the canoptic jar holding the last remaining sites. One of them is a young Kelish woman and the other is a somewhat wizened Osirian priest with shock-white hair.
As you approach, you realize he doesn't actually look all that old, despite his white hair and beard. He looks to be perhaps in his late forties or early fifties. He has a thousand-yard stare that seems to be unsettling his younger companion.
When you arrive, he says, "Well, no. I suppose not. But--what? Oh. Right. Visitors."
Judging by the girl's uncomfortable look, you're guessing the man was not talking to her--particularly considering he wasn't facing her, but somewhere off to his right. Also she has the look of someone who knows they're in the presence of a crazy person and feels super uncomfortable about it.
The man turns to you and says, "My condolences on your loss. Who were they?"
The younger acolyte blinks at him, then turns to you and shrugs helplessly. She clearly has no idea what he's talking about. "Uh. I'm Dansa. This is Father Ptemenib, a priest in the Gray Lady's service."
Melech bows his head. "Thank you, Father. We lost Nevai Amon-Ra, cleric of Horus, to a pack of ghouls. He died so that we could live." He gives them a sad smile. "It is an honor to meet you. My name is Melech, and this is Ulysses and Sigrun."
Ptemenib glances curiously into the distance again. "Oh?" He looks back at you. "How tragic." He shakes his head sadly. "I would not deign to call into question the Pharaoh's decree, but it does seem to be bringing out the worst in people. You have suffered many losses, and will suffer more, I'm afraid. Pharasma's will is inscrutable to us mortals, but it is rarely kind. Still, Her actions are always in the interest of maintaining the Cycle of Rebirth, that all us little souls can run amok on this planet and busy ourselves with such silliness as love, hate, anger, honor, and compassion. I may not look it, but I am quite fond of silliness, personally." He gives a blank smile, then waves to Dansa. "They are eager for their site, I am sure. Would you be so kind, Dana?"
"Dansa," she corrects with a sigh, and reaches into the canoptic jar to withdraw a small square of parchment.
Before she can read it aloud, Ptemenib cocks his head, as if listening, and grins. "Oh, that is interesting. It would seem the Lady of Graves has a sense of humor after all."
Dansa gives him the side-eye then reads the piece of paper aloud.
"The Sanctum of the Erudite Eye. Apparently once a temple to Nethys."
She hands a map to Melech, marked with the temple's location.
Sigrun works her jaw a few times. "Uh. Erudite Eye, you say?" She looks meaningfully at the other two.
Melech nods to Ptemenib and DanaDansa, and gives Sigrun a subtle shake of the head. "Thank you. Is there any interest in what we found at House Pentheru?"
"Oh, quite a lot, I am sure," Ptemenib says mildly. "We are a bit understaffed after this afternoon's events, so yo will have to forgive us. We are a bit out of sorts. Please, tell us what you found."
After you fill him in on the details and events that occurred in House Pentheru, Ptemenib rubs his bearded chin thoughtfully. "So that is where the vargouilles were coming from. Divs truly are devious to have been able to hide this from us. I am pleased their threat is no more, but there will always be something in that necropolis. No matter how much you consecrate it, that many dead buried so close together, and all dead from such a traumatic event, will guarantee it is never truly at rest. Thank you again for your service. Good luck with the Sanctum. That is a sticky one, to be sure."
Melech gives a slight bow, then leads the others out of earshot. "Well, well. Keep this to yourselves, both of you. We need to see what it is our friend is so interested in. She doesn't seem the type to have charitable motives. For now, let's wait for Nevai. We need to warn them about the haunted ring."
Nevai's body arrives shortly thereafter. Even having been assured he would be preserved against the elements and time, it's still somewhat surprising to see him in perfect repose. Bandages have been wrapped around the gruesome fatal wound on his throat, and his eyes covered with embroidered strips of linen cloth anointed with oils.
You warn the priests of the haunted ring. One of the functionaries in charge of his transport thanks you, and gives you a 500gp reward for bringing the dangerous--but also surprisingly culturally significant--item to their attention.
"As to your friend's arrangements, Father Ibrahim at the shrine to Horus in the Veins has requested he be given a traditional burial of mummification and interment. Unless there is any objection, this is what we will do."
Mummification is quite common in burials venerating the old gods. It is actually extremely rare for one to rise as an undead, and usually requires necromantic intervention.
Didn't Nevai mention an Ibrahim when he was talking to you the other day about his past? But that was in his youth, and you could swear he said Ibrahim was a fellow urchin who went down a path of crime...
Melech rests his hand on Nevai's shoulder and looks down at him. After a few moments, it occurs to him that someone spoke to him. "Oh. Uh. That would be fine, thank you." He sighs, gives Nevai's shoulder a squeeze, and leads the others to the exit.
"Nevai once mentioned an Ibrahim over drinks. He was his best friend growing up. I think I need to go see if this Father Ibrahim is the very same. I do not ask you to come with me, but it's something to do since we aren't going to the Necropolis today."
"Lead the way."
Sigrun nods. "Of course. Lead the way."
You make your way back into the Veins. Finding the shrine is surprisingly difficult; of the old gods worshipped in Wati, it turns out Horus is pretty low on the list. It is very nearly nightfall when you reach your destination: a small mud-brick shack with no door, but rather an open fourth wall with only a bead curtain to block the elements. Trails of colorful smoke waft out, and flickering candlelight can be seen within.
Upon entering, you see a single fifteen-by-fifteen room, dominated by an altar on the far wall and two small sleeping palettes on either side of it. A man in his late forties or early fifties kneels before the altar in supplication. The altar itself is surprisingly ornate; a large sandstone obelisk, carved with Ancient Osiriani hieroglyphs, the glyphs filled with some dull, burnished metal (bronze, you would guess) to stand raised out from the surface of the obelisk. At its center on all four sides is a gold tracery of the Eye of Horus. Two incense bowls burn bundles of incense on either side.
The man stops his prayers and looks up at you, his long black hair tied back in a bun and his goatee neatly trimmed. His eyes are red and puffy.
He looks up at you with a bitter glare. "Ah. I was wondering when you would show up. You must be the ones who got my boy killed."
Melech's teeth clench, but he ignores the comment, for now. "We came to pay our respects, Father. Nevai spoke of you fondly."
His jaw tightens. "You have no respect. You desecrate tombs for profit at our idiot Pharaoh's behest. The only reason Nevai entered the necropolis was to minimize damage adventurers like you would do. He should never have been in there, but he had more sense of duty than any filth like you could ever know. My boy was better than any thug like you deserved to know." His face is contorted in hate and grief, tears spilling freely. "A ghoul may have killed him, but his blood is on your hands." He turns away from you.
Sigrun knows she should keep her mouth shut; this isn't her fight, really. But she can't sit by and let good people get badmouthed any longer.
"I know you grieve, sir, but your son would be ashamed of your words. He was a stalwart man and a good friend to these two. He gave his life to save theirs and would do so again in a heartbeat, and they would have given theirs for his in return. They have acted with nothing but respect inside the necropolis, and lumping them in with others just because you are in pain does a horrid disservice to Nevai's memory. He would be aghast to know you're treating his friends like common criminals. You grieve alone in an empty shrine; you could have others to grieve with, who knew your son and cared for him as you did. People to commiserate with. Don't let your anger block you from a path to healing."
"It is true. We have no intention of desecrating anything. As a follower of Pharasma, I have the utmost respect for the dead and have sworn a vow to rid the world of every undead that I can. Nevai saved our lives; if I could take his place, you have my word that I would."
Ulysses isn't always the most socially intelligent person, but he knows enough to keep his mouth shut on this occasion.
The struggle to hold onto his anger is plain on Ibrahim's face. When it fades, you can see it costs him something. He collapses on himself and falls into a broken, sobbing mess. "B... but... why did he have to go...?" He covers his eyes with his hand, as if doing so could hold back the tears, but nothing can. He shakes violently with the power of each sob, and looks like he is about to collapse to the floor.
Sigrun quickly hunkers down and catches the old man, embracing him gently as he shakes. She doesn't say anything. There's nothing more to say, now.
Minutes pass. An hour. Maybe more. Night has fully settled over the world when Ibrahim finally pulls away from Sigrun, wiping his face miserably on his sleeve. The bard finds a kettle and a small firepit and sets about boiling water for tea.
Eventually, the old priest has his shaky hands wrapped around a pewter cup of something hot and earthy, and the aroma seems to calm him. He stares at the water for many moments.
"You are right, young lady. I have shamed Nevai's memory. He was a good boy. I should trust him to have found good people to travel with. I have lost both my sons now. The old are not supposed to outlive the young..." He looks on the verge of weeping again, but keeps himself together for now. "I found Nevai when he was barely more than a babe. There was no one around. Just a baby on a pile of refuse, crawling around, wailing and scared. He was strange; skin that shone like copper, eyes that held a faint glow of the holy. I think, perhaps, his parents feared him.
"My own boy was only two. My wife had passed during labor with Ibrahim, so it was just the two of us. Nevai felt like a godsend; a holy light to brighten a darkened household. But... life was not easy for us. We struggled to make ends meet. Running a shrine does not pay any money. Eventually, Ibrahim found... less reputable work. Poor Nevai, he only ever wanted to be accepted by Ibrahim. Those two and Sebti were thick as thieves. They met her when she snuck out of seminary school, I think. She was quite a troublemaker as a girl." He smiles sadly. "She was a bit older than them, liked to boss them around, I think. But then Ibrahim found those... those Silver Chain thugs. He fell in with them, and Nevai fell in with him. Sebti had more sense, at least. Poor girl." He looks up. "Does she know? She must, I suppose. They have the body."
He finally sips the tea, staring at the obelisk adorned with the Eye of Horus. "I received word only two weeks ago of Ibrahim's death. I... Horus forgive me, I did not tell Nevai. I feared it would break his heart. Nevai managed to crawl back out of that life, but my bloodborn son was not so lucky." He puts a hand to his mouth. Tears fall, but the sobbing doesn't come this time.
Melech listens to the grieving man, knowing that he just needs to let it out. Please, Ulysses, don't ... be yourself right now.
His interest is piqued when the Father reveals that the Ibrahim that Nevai spoke of is also recently dead; he makes a mental note to ask about that if the opportunity presents itself. And Sebti! Had she or Nevai made any indication that they knew each other, and knew each other well? Melech couldn't remember, but he thinks he would have.
"Father, we only knew Nevai a few short days, and they were trying and stressful days. I would like to know what he was like when he wasn't constantly facing death, if you don't mind speaking about it?"
Now that you think back on it, when Sebti rescued the barroom brawlers from Commander Shepses and the Voices of the Spire, she greeted Nevai by name despite him never saying it aloud in her presence. And he... blushed? You're not one hundred percent sure, but you think he blushed.
Ibrahim the Elder speaks haltingly at first, then with more strength as he goes on. He never speaks with enthusiasm, but there is a warmness to his words. You get the sense that Father Ibrahim is not normally a sentimental or boisterous man, possessed of a stolid demeanor and quiet, regal reserve. It reminds you enough of Nevai that you're somewhat surprised they aren't blood relatives.
As it turns out, there weren't a lot of days that were not trying or stressful for the Amon-Ra family. Ibrahim hints that they descended from a minor Pharaoh at one point, but neither confirms nor denies it. Regardless of the family's distant past, its more recent past was not one of luxury. Ibrahim is the son of a deckhand on one of the river barges and a kiln operater from here in the Veins. He met his wife, Kesha, while still in school. They married as soon as they came of age.
Life was hard for the two; she worked a kiln with Ibrahim's mother, but it made little money. Ibrahim, against his parents' wishes, became "divinely inspired" to build a shrine to Horus here in Wati. It made no money, however, so he would apprentice at the embalming house in the Midwife District during the day and tend to the shrine in the evening. When Ibrahim the Younger came along, they thought their life was about to be complete--until complications arose during labor and Kesha died giving birth to Ibrahim.
After that, the struggle to survive intensified. Yet all the while, Ibrahim came to the shrine every night to sweep, dust, collect the offerings, and burn them in the small firepit in Horus' name. And when his boy was about four, Father Ibrahim found little Nevai.
The stormcloud that followed the Amon-Ra's seemed to lift. Life was not easier--in fact it was harder, now that Ibrahim had two children to feed and clothe rather than one--but it felt... better. Richer. Nevai felt like a sign from Horus that everything was going to be alright.
But it wasn't to last. Ibrahim the Younger became more bitter and angry over the years, often fistfighting with other boys in the neighborhood, but Nevai most of all. "I think he resented Nevai, as a boy," Ibrahim admits. "Perhaps... I gave a bit more attention to him than my own son. I treated him as a sign from Horus rather than a normal child. Ibrahim wasn't blind to it. I... am not without flaws."
Things seemed to get better once the boys were teenagers. They met Sebti who, despite being four years his elder and closer in age to Ibrahim, became somewhat infatuated with the aasimar. She led both boys around as if on a leash, clearly the leader of their little trio. Until Ibrahim the Younger found the Silver Chain.
"They fell apart after that. Sebti went back to the seminary to complete her schooling. Ibrahim dragged Nevai into that wretched gang. The next thing I know, Ibrahim is gone and Nevai is in the watch garrison, facing death for desecrating the necropolis. I begged the Watch Commander to let me try and rehabilitate him. He was misguided, needed a push in the right direction. I knew being away from his brother's influence would help. Eventually the Watch Commander agreed. I had some... rather severe words for Nevai. Until I realized he was sick. So very, very sick..."
But it turned out it wasn't sickness, at least not exactly. Ibrahim and Nevai had gone on their first tomb-robbing mission with the Silver Chain and ran into an honest-to-gods mummy. It rose and attacked. They fled. Two of their fellow gang members died, and the creature placed a powerful curse on Nevai to waste away, never gaining sustenance from food or water.
"It took many days of trying before I finally broke the curse. It was quite powerful. Nevai very nearly died. I have no idea who that creature was, but it had more power than the average mummy, that is for certain. But once the curse was broken, Nevai pledged his life and soul in service to the Sky God. I was so proud of him I could burst."
He falls into silence for a few moments. "I know things ended badly between him and Ibrahim. He left Nevai down there in that catacomb, just abandoned him for dead. That hurt Nevai more than he could put into words. He always looked up to his big brother, even when he was staving off his fists." Father Ibrahim shakes his head sadly. "Despite everything, when I got news that some golden-masked cultists had infiltrated the Silver Chain and killed their leader..." He hangs his head. "I got word that Ibrahim took over the gang last year. So that meant my bloodborn son was dead. I haven't seen him in over six years now. But it still broke my heart. And now Nevai..."
He wipes his face again and sips his now-cold tea.
"Thank you for sharing that with us. I regret that I did not know him better. What I saw was an exceedingly strong and fearless man. He walked into the middle of a pack of ghouls without hesitation and blasted them with Horus's light. I have never seen anything like it. Forgive me if it pains you to hear, but I think it is important for you to know how brave he was. If he hadn't done that, I do not believe any of us would have survived."
He thinks for a moment. "I have heard of the Silver Chain causing trouble for some of the others groups like ours. If you would like, Father, it would give me great pleasure to track them down and get some answers about your son."
Ibrahim sighs. "I appreciate that, but it is best not to worry about it right now. Perhaps, once this exploration debacle is over with, it could be looked into, but meaning no offense, I am not optimistic about your chances. I am fairly well skilled in gathering information discreetly; as the center for the old gods here in the Veins, I have, through my clergy, garnered contacts from all walks of life. I am fairly adept at this sort of thing. Yet this new bunch are quite elusive, and are not in any of the old boltholes the Silver Chain typically use." He shrugs. "I will continue looking. If I hear anything, I will gladly keep you informed. But again, focus on what is already ahead of you first."
He looks around. "It is late, and I am tired. There is not much space, but you are welcome to stay at the shrine if you wish. The streets of the Veins are not generally safe after dark. But the gates back into Midwife are not far, if you wish to rest at your own inn, you will likely make it unscathed. Regardless of your choice, you are welcome at the shrine any time. Once more, I must apologize for my anger toward you. I... I needed a target for my rage. It is no excuse, it is simply what is. I am sorry. Thank you for showing me kindness despite it all. I can see why my son was so fond of you all."
He shakes each person's hand and retires for the night.
Melech bows again. "Thank you for your hospitality, Father. I do believe that we will take you up on it." He looks the question at the others.
Ulysses shrugs. "Sure, I can sleep anywhere."
Melech's night is plagued by visions of Nevai pointing accusingly at him and trying to speak; no sound emerges from his ruined throat but a soft sucking of air, wetted by the blood filling his dead lungs. His hands reach for Melech's throat before he jerks awake.
Ulysses dreams of fire. Flames so scorching hot that they disintegrate wood and melt stone. Flames that dance seductively, drawing the gnome towards them. He reaches one tiny hand toward the white-hot core, plunging fingers into the near-plasmic center and drawing forth a bright, shining orb of white-hot power, but his hand has been reduced to a heavily scored skeleton. He screams silently as the powerful heat of the orb travels up his arm, incinerating the flesh as it travels, until it reaches his face. Suddenly he is looking down at himself, watching the orb press against the flesh of his face; his cheeks and lips curl and blacken, his eyes burst into burning yellow fluid, and his nose vanishes in a puff of ash. The orb passes through his head, eradicating his mind in a horrid sun.
When you both wake, you feel the lingering effects of the dreams, but you are more or less rested. Father Ibrahim is absent; the sun is out, so it's probable he already left for morning errands.
Ulysses absently rubs his fingers over his burn scars. He has that familiar feeling of dread in the back of his mind that means he dreamt of fire, but (perhaps mercifully) he doesn't have any clear memories of the dreams.
"We need to stop by the inn so I can prepare my extracts and bombs, then let's get to the Eye!"
You return to the inn, to find a very addled-looking Filibus going over his notes while absently stirring a cup of coffee that has long since gone cold. He blinks as he looks up. "Oh. There you are. Where'd you get off to? Hey Sigrun."
"Hey there, Filibus. I'll be joining you all on your last site. Hope that's okay." She gives him a slight frown. Is he feeling okay? She doesn't remember seeing him this out of it.
He stares at her for a moment, as if it's taking a moment to process her words. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. So we have our final site?"
Melech nods, then looks around. "Just another noble house. Hopefully this one will be less haunted." He gives Sigrun a go with it look. He doesn't want to tell Filibus the truth until they are in a less public place.
Ulysses orders some eggs and sausage to his room so he can eat while he prepares for the day. He tells the party he'll be back in an hour and heads upstairs to get to work.
Everyone separates to make their daily preparations, then meets back at the common room and sets off for the dead city.
The crowd is no longer present at the gates. The events in front of the Grand Mausoleum has certainly caused a stir, but for the moment people do not seem eager to do any more rabble-rousing. The Voices on duty aren't exactly friendly toward you, but you do note distinctly less saltiness than right after the incident with the bar brawl. You follow the map deeper into the city.
The sun beats down on the lonely, silent streets of the necropolis. Dust and sand now cover the once-bustling streets, and buildings that were once homes and shops are gradually disintegrating into rubble after centuries of neglect. Scattered throughout the ruins is the occasional palm tree or shrub, kept alive by the broken remnants of a long-abandoned irrigation system.
As you pick your way through the ruins, you approach an old well. Something feels off...
Melech notices the first idiosyncrasy: one of the nearby buildings has a knotted rope dangling off its side. Then Ulysses notices the next, in that a shadow hides in a nearby doorway with a net in hand. Suddenly it's clear: an ambush! But these cretins gave away their positions too easily. Sensing their element of surprise is foiled by the party's keen eyes, they leap into action.
[color=green]
Ulysses (32/32 hp)
Trapper 1 (0 dmg)
Melech (49/49 hp)
Thug 1 (0 dmg)
Thug 2 (0 dmg)
Trapper 2 (0 dmg)
Thug 3 (0 dmg)
Thug 4 (0 dmg)
Sigrun (34/34 hp)
[/color]
Ulysses pulls his shield extract out of his bandolier and drinks it. He stays where he is, hoping to draw fire away from Filibus.
The thug just inside the nearby building lobs something at Melech. Even in his flat-footed state, he recognizes the item that was thrown, because Ulysses used one just the other day: a tanglefoot bag.
Fortunately, the overeager trapper threw the bag a little too hard and it splatters on the ground behind the slayer.
[color=green]
Ulysses (32/32 hp)
Trapper 1 (0 dmg)
Melech (49/49 hp)
Thug 1 (0 dmg)
Thug 2 (0 dmg)
Trapper 2 (0 dmg)
Thug 3 (0 dmg)
Thug 4 (0 dmg)
Sigrun (34/34 hp)
[/color]
Melech grins at the idiot who just missed him with the tanglefoot bag, then approaches him and swings his falchion.
The street erupts into combat. Two thugs with bows target Ulysses from the rooftops, but the arrows bounce harmlessly of the magic barrier around him.
Sigrun is not as lucky. An arrow lands on her, but thankfully only grazes her bicep. The wound is shallow but bloody . A second trapper steps out from behind a wall and lobs a tanglefoot bag directly at her, striking her legs. The bag explodes into a greenish-white slime that immediately hardens on contact with the air.
The slime hardens around her legs, sealing her in place for rounds. The trapper sneers, then sets his sights on the alchemist.
[color=green]
Ulysses (32/32 hp)
Trapper 1 (0 dmg)
Melech (49/49 hp)
Thug 1 (0 dmg)
Thug 2 (0 dmg)
Trapper 2 (0 dmg)
Thug 3 (0 dmg)
Thug 4 (0 dmg)
Sigrun (34/34 hp, entangled, stuck 8 rounds)
[/color]
Sigrun swears heavily in Dwarven, drawing her axes. Looking around and seeing their superior numbers, instead of hacking at the goop, she begins belting out a battle hymn in her native Skald. Her voice is surprisingly deep and powerful, radiating across the deserted ruins of the necropolis and reverberating off the dilapidated buildings in unexpected and eerie ways.
In the chaos of erupting battle, arrows fly, blades swing, and songs are sung.
You turn to look back and see that Filibus is gone. A small trail of blood droplets trail off into a nearby alley.
[color=green]
Ulysses (32/32 hp, inspired)
Trapper 1 (0 dmg)
Melech (49/49 hp, inspired)
Thug 1 (0 dmg)
Thug 2 (0 dmg)
Trapper 2 (0 dmg)
Thug 3 (0 dmg)
Thug 4 (0 dmg)
Sigrun (31/34 hp, entangled, stuck 7 rounds)
[/color]
Ulysses moves forward, prepping a bomb as he goes, then tosses it at the jabroni that stuck Sigrun.
The bomb arcs gracefully through the air. The thug seems awestruck by it as it seems to stand still for a moment, shining in the morning sun, before arcing back down, striking him in the face, and blasting him backwards and out of view. You don't know if he's actually dead, but he sure as hell isn't getting up any time soon. His rooftop buddy isn't quite in the blast radius, but he clearly feels the heat as it singes his eyebrows. He looks very, very confused as to what just happened. Clearly he has not dealt with many alchemists.
The trapper next to Melech steps back, drawing a folded net from his belt, and tosses it at the slayer. He swipes out to try and deflect the net, but he swings just a little too early and it cuts harmlessly through the air as he finds himself entangled within. The trapper grins, and Melech can see he's holding a rope tied to the net.
[color=green]
Ulysses (32/32 hp, inspired)
Trapper 1 (0 dmg)
Melech (49/49 hp, inspired, entangled)
Thug 1 (0 dmg)
Thug 2 (0 dmg)
Trapper 2 (0 dmg)
Thug 3 (16 dmg, unconscious and dying)
Thug 4 (0 dmg)
Sigrun (31/34 hp, entangled, stuck 7 rounds)
[/color]
Melech's concern at Filibus's absence distracts him just long enough that he fails to avoid the net. Growling in frustration, he studies the trapper through the gaps in the net, steps forward, and attacks, not even bothering to remove the net.
The trapper grins wickedly, fully expecting to have control over Melech's movements with the net, locking away his chance of escape. It clearly never dawned on him that the slayer would move toward him and ignore the net entirely to simply cut the thug in twain.
Melech swings the heavy blade down on him and the trapper throws up a feeble arm to block the blow. The strike pins his arm to his chest for a split second before the falchion hacks clean through his arm and deep into his chest, severing both right ventricles entirely. He spits out a gout of bright red blood and collapses, eyes glassy and empty. He was dead before he even hit the ground.
The remaining trapper throws his net at Ulysses, but finds the gnome to be a shockingly spry and hard target, and the net hits the wall behind him with a soft, defeated whuff. The furthest thug hustles down the staircase of the building roof he'd been on and closes on Ulysses and fires, but can't get a clear shot.
The final rooftop thug fires at Ulysses, but once again his arrow sails wide.
[color=green]
Ulysses (32/32 hp, inspired)
Trapper 1 (22 dmg, dead)
Melech (49/49 hp, inspired, entangled)
Thug 1 (0 dmg)
Thug 2 (0 dmg)
Trapper 2 (0 dmg)
Thug 3 (16 dmg, unconscious and dying)
Thug 4 (0 dmg)
Sigrun (31/34 hp, entangled, stuck 7 rounds)
[/color]
Still belting out her battle hyumn, Sigrun hacks at the goo to get it off her.
The other rooftop thug continues pelting the stuck Sigrun with arrows, this time landing one in her lower abdomen. She doubles over with a groan.
[color=green]
Ulysses (32/32 hp, inspired)
Trapper 1 (22 dmg, dead)
Melech (49/49 hp, inspired, entangled)
Thug 1 (0 dmg)
Thug 2 (0 dmg)
Trapper 2 (16 dmg, unconscious and dying)
Thug 3 (0 dmg)
Thug 4 (0 dmg)
Sigrun (24/34 hp, inspired, entangled, stuck 6 rounds)
[/color]
Ulysses calmly walks up to the corner of the building with two archers on top, pulling a grenade from his bandolier, lighting the fuse, and placing it into his bombchucker. His practiced mind and muscles instinctively know the exact angle and velocity to toss the grenade at to land between the thugs.