Retry?
Yes, but if you ever roll a natural 1 while attempting to activate an item and you fail, then you can’t try to activate that item again for 24 hours.
Ray bashes the skull a few more times just for good measure, then stands over his final foe, chest heaving with exertion, eyes dry and bloodshot.
It takes several moments for him to come back to his senses. When he does, Amanteia is busying herself with a wand and Jando is checking the corpses. Song and Argus, however, are staring at him.
"What?" he snaps.
Bob, perched on Song's shoulder, meekly asks, [color=blue]"You, uh... you okay, boss?"[/color]
Ray feels the exhilaration of battle finally fading, leaving his aging limbs sore and creaking, and his lungs burning from fatigue. That's definitely the reason he's feeling waspish. Nothing else.
"Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be? We just destroyed three more abominations! Damn fine way to end the day, wouldn't you say?"
Argus responds to this by throwing his glaive to the ground in disgust and storming off, back to the front of the mausoleum. He has no words.
Ray sneers at the paladin's back. "Some champion of justice. Can't even see the evil in undeath. Pathetic." He laughs. It's definitely not forced and is a very real, authentic laugh.
Bob opens his beak to answer, but clicks it shut again. He turns to Song and shrugs helplessly with his wings before flying off to find a nice perch to sit on and be away from the crazy mortals for a bit.
Song eyes Raybin with a mix of concern and irritation. She believes the fight was necessary in order to secure the premises enough to rest, but she doesn't relish it, and the fact that this madman is relishing it makes her question her judgment.
"Let's get some sleep," she says wearily. She plucks up the paladin's weapon, hoists it over her shoulder, and follows him to the front of the mausoleum.
Ray throws his hands in the air in defeat. "Idiots," he growls, and stomps past Amanteia and Jando to find a nice spot a little ways away from the others to unroll his bedroll.
Oof, this is bad.
Amanteia is concerned, to put it mildly. One of their number is so blindly devoted to his deity's tenets that he regularly puts the party at greater risk than it already faces anyway. And, on the other end of the spectrum, another one of them seems to believe that murdering everything that they encounter is the only way forward.
And -- worse -- they are both so stubborn that they are pushing each other further toward their respective extremes. There is absolutely no way this can continue. They are all going to die, and then what happened to Roslar's Coffer is bound to happen elsewhere. Where will it happen next? Vigil? Absalom?
She supposes it shouldn't matter to her; she'll be dead. But, gods damn it all, it does.
She approaches Griffin, pats him on his flank, and speaks softly to him. "Thank you for your help today, Griffin. You were more help than you know. Please watch over us as we sleep. I may call upon your aid again soon, if that is acceptable to you." She knows he understands her but is unable to respond; she instead interprets the way he leans into her caress as acquiescence.
Then she catches Song and Jando's attention and gestures for them to come to her. Once the trio is gathered, she sighs heavily. "It is obvious that we have a problem. Each of those idiots is right in his own way; the problem is that they are also both wrong, and neither is willing to meet in the middle. I don't know if it will be Argus's reluctance or Ray's recklessness, but one or both of them is going to get us all killed." She shakes her head. "I can be a persuasive person, but I am at a loss for what to say to them. Ideas?"
Jando nods along as Amanteia speaks, then realizes that her question was directed at him as much as Song. His eyebrows raise and his hands go up. "Don't look at me. I understand animals. People baffle me." He stops short of saying and s#$% like this is why.
He looks at Song expectantly.
Song chews ger lip as she mulls it over. She absolutely agrees with Amanteia's assessment, but she isn't sure which way to lean here. On the one hand, it was Argus's paladin code that allowed these creatures to slip away unmolested to plague the party later. On the other hand, Ray's bloodlust for destroying the undead, while it technically hasn't caused the same trouble yet, is bound to do so eventually, and potentially with far more dire consequences. At least the paladin she can rely on not to commit an atrocity in the name of his deity--intentionally, anyway. But this whole blunder can't be ignored, either...
She finally shakes her head in frustration. "I honestly don't know. If we don't do something, they're going to kill each other. Or one of us, even if by accident. As a holy warrior myself, I understand Argus's need to adhere to his tenets, even at the expense of others' comfort. But I can't help thinking he might be adhering to the letter at the expense of the intent. But" she adds quickly "I am also not a follower of Shelyn. Nor am I a paladin. Desna doesn't generally go in for that sort of thing, precisely because it leads to situations like this."
Song leans back against the stone wall behind her and stares thoughtfully up to the hideous miasmic dome above their heads, pursing her lips. "I know I haven't been with you lot more than a day or two, but something about Ray's demeanor feels... off. He wasn't like this even a couple days ago, when we first met, right? He seemed kinda bonkers but not foaming at the mouth. Would that be a fair assessment?"
Amanteia nods. "He seems almost suicidal." She can't help a surreptitious glance in Ray's direction, then says, almost to herself, "Dellan." After a moment, she turns back to Jando and Song. "Dellan. He got us out of an impossible situation in the Boneyard, but he had to sacrifice himself to do it. I think he was the only one of us that understood Ray. He probably feels like he lost his only friend." She shakes her head and sighs heavily. "And the constant conflict with Argus can't be helping. I have no idea what to do."
She sits with Jando and Song for another few minutes of indecisive silence, then stands without a word and walks over to Ray. She doesn't sit immediately, instead asking, "Do you mind if I join you?"
Ray gives Amanteia a suspicious look, then tries to hide it with a shrug that is far too nonchalant. "Sure. What's on your mind?"
He knows he's being way too casual, but he's not going to give anyone the satisfaction of looking guilty.
Song ponders this as Amanteia leaves. She recalls them mentioning losing a compatriot in the Boneyard, but from their talk it seemed like Ray and this Dellan fellow didn't much get along. But... maybe that's why Ray is acting the way he is? Survivor's guilt for outliving Dellan?
It's all speculation at the moment, anyway. Perhaps Amanteia can learn something by talking to Ray directly. She considers for a moment, then gives Jando's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, by the way. For putting up with all this. I mean--I know you don't really have a choice, neither of us do if we want to get out of here, but regardless, I appreciate all you've done to help us." She offers what she hopes is a reassuring smile, then immediately frowns and sags her shoulders. "Amanteia is talking to Ray. I suppose I aught to go talk to Argus, see if I can mollify things on that end." She gives the ranger one last apologetic smile before standing up and moving over to Argus's lonely little patch of grass. She offers him back his glaive.
"I think you dropped this, champ."
Argus starts when Song pushes the haft of his weapon in his face, breaking him out of his sullen reverie. He takes it and rests it gently beside him. "Th-thank you," he says sheepishly. He gestures to the ground next to him. When Song sits down, he sighs heavily. "Y-you must think m...me a m-m-man-child, the way I acted."
"Yes," Song says flatly. At Argus's hurt expression, she smiles kindly but admonishingly. "Come on, you said it yourself. You were being rather childish, storming off like that. Not that I entirely blame you; I've only been with your group a few days and even I want to hit Raybin in the mouth sometimes. But..."
She bites her lip, not sure how to say it without offending the paladin. In the end, she decides to be blunt. "He also had a point. Even outside of whether or not you believe undead are an abomination, your refusal to strike at a known threat put the whole group in danger."
Argus does his best not to let that rankle him, but he can't help it. It wounds him.
He takes a few deep breaths before speaking again. When he does, it sounds rote, rather like an intonation than casual conversation.
"I come first with a rose rather than a weapon. I never strike first, unless it is the only way to protect the innocent." He fixes Song with a level gaze. "The s-second tenet of Shelyn's Paladin Code. I do n-not--can-not--throw it as-side out of inc-convenience."
Song grits her teeth a little. This isn't going as well as she'd hoped. She's not a mediator; why did she think she could handle either of these bull-headed louts??
"You didn't inconvenience us, Argus," she warns. "You very well could have got us killed."
Argus tilts his head at her and says coolly, "Is that s-so? I s-seem to r...recall you three han-ndling them quite easily. B-barely a scratch on anyone, m...most of which Am-m-menteia handled with a few b-berries."
He crosses his arms and leans back. "I h-have d...done my b-best to protect everyone, R-ray included, and m-much of my suc-c-cess is thanks to the g...gifts Shelyn bestowed on m-me. If I violate her t...tenets, I lose her gifts. If I lose her gifts, I am even more a b...burden than I am n-now." He raises his hands as if to mollify her, but it is in fact to show her the obvious tremor in them. "In all m...my forty-eight y-years, after all the h-heinous things I've witnessed" (and done, he reminds himself bitterly) "never once did my h-hands tremble. 'S-steady as f-fate,' as M-mom used to say." His lips twitch in a bittersweet smile at the thought of his mother. But the smile fades quickly, because she can never enter his mind with out his father slinking in close behind.
"L-listen," he says somberly. "I w-will do my b-best not to be a h-hinderance to you all. B-but it must be said: in m-my current state, I am next to useless. The c...curse that fiend inflicted on m-me could very well spell d... death for someone. If you all w-wish me to leave the p...party, I will do so. I do not w-want to be the burden that gets one of you k-killed. That is literally the opposite of m-my intended p...purpose." There is no sullenness or self-pity in his face anymore. Every word of it, he genuinely means. "And d-do not give me empty p-platitudes about how I'm a v...valuable m-member of the team, please. I w-was that. Now I am in-n-neffectual, at best. A n-noose on your necks, at worst. And I w-will try not to b...butt heads with R-ray anym-more, b-but I can't s-say it w...won't happen again. If the contention can't s-stop, logic d...dictates I am the one who should leave."
Song glares at him and opens her mouth to do exactly as he told her not to, but she quickly snaps it shut again. She hates to admit it, but... he may have a point. How many times did his weapon arm fail in that fight because the curse made holding his glaive nearly impossible? How can they hope to escape this place with him in this state? They need a strong sword arm, and right now, Argus isn't it.
Then again...
She sighs and socks him on the arm. "You big dummy. You talk like we can walk into the local Pathfinder Lodge and just pluck up a replacement for you. Whatever state you're in, we're all each other's got. We get out of here and get to the nearest habitable town, you can do whatever you feel is best. Though for my money, I say what's best is to find a cleric who can slap that curse off you so you can get back to kicking the ass of whatever douche canoe turned this town into a crater. So no more of this doom-and-gloom b~@%@$@#. At least until we get out of this craphole, you're stuck with us."
She stands up and offers her hand. "C'mon, let's go set up camp for the night."
Argus chuckles and takes her hand. For one so young, she has a damn good head on her shoulders. He hadn't even thought of that. You big dummy, he mentally chides. All ready to go die a martyr's death for no good reason. What good would that have done the Eternal Rose?
"Yes m-ma'am," he answers with a grin.
Amanteia nods and sits next to Ray, close enough that their knees touch. She retrieves a tin of assorted nuts from her pack, offers some to Ray, then starts to nibble. She doesn't have much of an appetite, but she knows she hasn't eaten much at all today and needs to keep her strength up.
She doesn't say anything. Instead, she simply sits there, alongside Ray, and stares into the fire with him.
Ray glances suspiciously at the nuts, but takes what is offered. He doesn't eat them, just sits with them resting in his palm, waiting for the sorceress to say something. When she doesn't, he sighs irritably and tosses a couple into the fire, where they pop merrily and give off a nutty aroma.
This is it. This is where he gets the boot from the party. Not the f~@&ing paladin whose idiotic code allowed undead abominations to walk free, and probably would have slit all their throats in the night if Ray hadn't demanded they take care of them once and for all. Of course not. If Dellan had been here, he would have laid into Argus for sure. Well--in a polite but extremely high-handed way. The way that kid wielded guilt, they should have stuck him in the army.
Whatever. If she's going to give him the boot, he wishes she'd just come out and f#+~ing do it already instead of trying to be all companionable first.
"You wanna say something, Amanteia, so just say it."
Amanteia rolls her eyes. "Don't be an a!%!#%*, Ray. I just thought you could use a friend. We can just sit here. Or we can talk. I'll be here either way." She continues to half-heartedly eat her rations.
Ray huffs indignantly. "I'm the a+&!~++? I'm not the one who wanted to have a tea party with the f##$ing undead. A paladin, for Pharasma's sake! Parleying with the physical manifestation of evil! And everyone is looking at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind. It's insane!"
He stands up, teeth grinding. "You know what? I think I'd rather be alone." He storms off to an empty corner of graveyard and sits down, arms crossed, nostrils flaring.
Bob looks from Amanteia to Ray, then back to the sorceress, then back to Ray. He lets out a low warble that sounds suspiciously like a sigh. He almost wishes he knew a language other than Celestial so he could offer an apology to Amanteia for his master's behavior.
But since he can't, he decides he's going to have to be the one to talk sense into him.
[color=blue]"Why'm I the one who gets all the crappy jobs...?"[/color] he grumbles, then flies over to land on the grass in front of Ray. He flutters his wings once to get the occultist's attention.
[color=blue]"Hey, boss."[/color]
Ray glares down at Bob for a brief second before turning away. [color=blue]"What do you want?"[/color]
Bob cocks his head to the side. [color=blue]"You're being an a#++@#@."[/color]
He raises one wing to forestall the fury growing on Ray's face. [color=blue]"Apbupbup. No. Don't. You are, and you know it. Look, I get it. There's a conflict of interest here. You think the paladin's beliefs don't align with yours. I agree. That's fine, not everyone has to agree on everything Ray! I do think you're right in that maybe this isn't the best group to stick with. Maybe we need to go our own way. Maybe."[/color]
He puffs out a whistle like an exasperated sigh. [color=blue]"But even if we do end up having to part ways, you have no right to treat any of them like this. No, not even the paladin. He's saved your ass many a time. He deserves better than this harassment you're throwing at him."[/color]
Ray has to consciously unclench his jaw. [color=blue]"What the f*$! do you know, bird? You can't even remember how to be a psychopomp. You're f#$$ing useless. Get lost."[/color] He kicks at the raven to emphasize his point.
Bob flaps backward with a startled caw, then glares his beady eyes at the occultist. Nothing else has worked, so he decides to hit him where it hurts.
[color=blue]"Dellan would be ashamed of you."[/color]
He doesn't bother sticking around to hear the occultist's retort; he takes wing and flies off.
Ray feels Bob's words like a physical kick to the gut. He scrambles for something to throw at the retreating avian, but all he can gather is a handful of loose grass, which the wind promptly blows back in his face when he tosses it.
Sputtering and cursing, he storms off to get as far from the group as possible without leaving the relative safety of the graveyard. He finds a patch of grass not far from the corpses of their recent foes and curls into a ball, staring petulantly at the rotting remains of the battle.
What the Hells does he care if Dellan would be ashamed? That pretentious little s!#~ was always looking down his nose at him! Who cares that he wouldn't approve?? He never approved of anything Ray did! He was just a snot-nose kid, for gods' sakes!
A snot-nosed kid who gladly sacrificed himself to get your sorry old ass out of the Boneyard in one piece, a voice says in his head. Curiously, it's not his voice. It's a woman's, and not one he recognizes. A snot-nosed kid who saved you and everyone here from the brink of death more than once. A snot-nosed kid who you'll never f!*@ing live up to.
He squeezes his eyes shut and tells the voice in his head to piss off.
It doesn't.
Even as he drifts into a cold, miserable, fitful slumber, the voice is still mocking and chastising him for his zealotry.
Amanteia doesn't try to deter Ray from walking away. She gave it a shot. His emotions are running too high to be rational right now.
She walks back to Jando and Song, shrugs, then makes herself as comfortable as is possible on the ground in a cemetery. Despite it all, she drifts off almost immediately.
The night passes quietly. Even after Griffin winks out of existence, the party isn't accosted, thanks to the loci spirit keeping the nasties outside the graveyard.
Morning arrives, though the dark green aura in the sky becoming slightly less dark is the only way to really tell. Roslar's "Tomb" awaits a second attempt.