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With a series of brutally precise strikes Ketra cuts down the blinded wight. Her sister fares little better, as Garret's holy light burns and blinds her again! Her outraged shriek is cut off in a hail of fire from Jando and Silvia; as the echo of gunfire fades the cathedral's silence is no less ominous than the shouting had been. It seems the rest of the Bastion of Light's occupants have declined to challenge you in the open spaces of nave.
"Well." Ketra rushes back to rejoin the others, not confident in being exposed out in the center of the cathedral. "We did it, somehow. Now would be a good time to back our way out. Head out into the woods." She winks to the others, her words are more for any listeners, to throw them off the team's trail.
To the team she whispers "Back the way we came maybe? We're awfully battered, and who knows what else they've got in here. We need to heal everyone up before we risk it."
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Sanduro nods in agreement. He tries to keep his voice down when he answers Ketra. "I can prepare a couple more healing spells today, and I can try to pull in some additional healing energy from the Beyond as well, but I really won't have much left to work with until the morning, after we get some rest."
Sanduro is down by 28 (11 hp out of 39 max); I'm not sure about everybody else. He will use all six of his remaining daily uses of Healer's Hands before preparing spells for his remaining open spell slots (one each at levels 1, 2, 3); we can split them up as needed.
Treat Deadly Wounds: When treating deadly wounds, you can restore hit points to a damaged creature. Treating deadly wounds restores 1 hit point per level of the creature. If you exceed the DC by 5 or more, add your Wisdom modifier (if positive) to this amount. A creature can only benefit from its deadly wounds being treated within 24 hours of being injured and never more than once per day. You must expend two uses from a healer's kit to perform this task. You take a -2 penalty on your Heal skill check for each use from the healer's kit that you lack.
Benefit: You can use the Heal skill to treat deadly wounds as a full-round action. You do not take a penalty for not using a healer's kit when treating deadly wounds this way, and you can do so on a given creature more than once per day. When treating deadly wounds this way, if your result exceeds the DC by 10 or more, add your ranks in Knowledge (planes) to the damage healed. These benefits do not apply to creatures that are not healed by positive energy. You can use this feat's benefit a number of times per day equal to your ranks in Knowledge (planes).
DC 25=7+3=10 hp healed
DC 30=7+3+7=17 hp healed
Grateful for the healing he is offered (17 hp would get him one away from maximum), Garret swiftly checks the bodies--primarily for magic, but also for spellbooks or other more mundane items of usefulness or information.
Once he has searched, he is happy to retreat under the protection of the others...or push forward into the complex if his companions are feeling ready to go after their brief respite.
After a cautious check for spies or scouts who might be watching you, and seeing none, you all slip back into the storage cellar and down into the tunnel, replacing the stone tile/trapdoor behind you.
After several minutes' walk back the way you came, you find yourselves in the altar-room of Roslar's Tomb once more.
Garret examines the items he has looted from the bodies, hoping to have scored at least one or two magical tidbits.
After being healed, he says, ”I can continue for now if the rest of you are ready. I have a reasonable amount of arcane firepower left, though if we have another fight like that I will need a longer rest for sure.”
[2] mswk studded leather armor
[2] +1 daggers
[6] mswk daggers
[4] red crystal spectacles (DC16)
[4] red gold brooches, sculpted like a human skull gagged by a length of chain
[4] potions of a roiling, bubbling, oily liquid
Each of these is a Brooch of Shielding, their magic entirely unspent as though they were crafted but yesterday.
Four potions of Inflict Serious Wounds
"The potions are of Inflict Serious Wounds--healing for the undead, I suppose," says Garret. He loses focus trying to decipher the other items, the curse surging to the forefront.
Ketra turns a pair of the red crystal spectacles over in her hand. "They're kinda stylish, aren't they? Assuming this doesn't turn out to be cursed, and has a helpful enchantment on it, I'd be willing to give them a whirl." She wrinkles her nose "The brooches are a different story though. Could they have chosen a more 'I'm an evil cult' design?"
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Sanduro calls on the guidance of the Lady of Graves before examining each of the spectacles and brooches.
“I don’t know about these brooches, but the spectacles could be very useful! They allow you to see how close to death a creature is, or if it’s truly alive or merely an undead monstrosity aping the living.” Deathwatch eyes, link in the GM’s spoiler.
Sanduro takes some time to heal himself and anyone else who is wounded, then prays for his remaining spells, one of which he uses to heal more of his debilitating wounds .
Spell preparation:
- Level 3:
- Level 2: Flurry of Snowballs
- Level 1:
Healing:
- Ketra, -27: Healer’s Hands x2 (+17, +10)
- Garret, -18: Healer’s Hands (+17)
- Sanduro, -28: Healer’s Hands (+7), Cure Moderate Wounds (below)
- Silvia, -12: Cure Light Wounds (below)
“That’s all the healing the Lady of Graves will grant me today. We’ll need to rely on Sylvia’s connection to her General, and her prayer bead, plus the remaining few charges on our wand and mundane healing helped by the satchel, and rest. But I can at least make it less likely for our close-in fighters to be wounded again.”
Sanduro casts barkskin on Zsofia and then uses the pearl of power to cast it again on Ketra.
"Thanks Sanduro! Seeing how it was against those undead, I'll take any protection you've got. I think we're going to stick to exploring just a little more, but I'll be happy to bet that they're cooking something up for us." Ketra also picks up one of the deathwatch glasses and dons them, adjusting them to try to get them to sit right on her nose. "You're sure these aren't cursed, right? I guess we'll find out."
Once the others are ready, she heads back up into the cellar and up the set of stairs. She moves stealthily until she reaches the door the group closed earlier to cover their escape path. She listens in, in case there's any foes investigating on the other side. Assuming there isn't, she eases the door open and draws her knives.
Having patched your wounds and caught your breath, you move back down the tunnel to the Bastion. Not hearing anything lurking on the first side of the trapdoor, Ketra leads the way back into the cathedral's nave--but it seems someone has been out here, since as Ketra opens the nave door she knocks over several precariously stacked glass jars which tumble to the ground and shatter noisily!
A crude warning system, but effective in this case. Luckily there are no further foes or monsters immediately confronting you; the nave is quiet and dark, save for the bodies of those you cut down half an hour ago.
"Ugh." Ketra whispers back to the others "Lets move before anyone investigates."
She scans the room for a moment for any foes hiding about, then stays near the edge of the room as she skirts toward the first set of doors.
Assuming there aren't any surprises, she continues onward, waving the rest to follow behind her.
Sanduro returns Zsofia to her incorporeal form and the phantom glides alongside Ketra. "I'll stick my head through the next door we want to open, just in case there's another stacked jar trap behind it, or maybe a pot of cold water balanced on top of the frame."
Drifting through the door, Zsofia doesn't notice any traps--the wights would have had little enough time to manage such a preparation--nor does she see any monsters in the room either. What she does see is something halfway between a workshop and a meat locker: one of the several tables in here has been turned into a surgical table, where a half-completed necrocraft lays inert and surrounded by tools for cutting, sewing, and other less clear purposes. The other tables contain an array of limbs or even sorted piles of bones or ropes of muscle; the walls have large anatomical diagrams apparently containing instructions for half a dozen different types of necrocraft.
Ketra steps in after Zsofia gives the all clear, only to immediately regret her choice. "Shouldn't have been surprising. Those necrografts had to come from somewhere. But still... awful." She gives the room a quick inspection in case there are any useful items left behind by the wights, but is otherwise eager to continue.
Ketra espies a door to the north and the south, but the workshop itself contains little beyond the surgical tools (of decent though not exceptional quality) and scattered notes written in Necril.
The notes are focused on the bodies' responses to something called the Radiant Fire, noting that in some places flesh and muscle mutated and warped, and other times withered and weakened. A great deal of ink involves speculation on whether a process of exposure to positive and negative energy could be developed to "farm" flesh and bone in ways useful for the mass-production of necrocrafts.
Alert to danger, Ketra carefully checks the closest door and once no traps are turned up cracks it open. The chamber proves empty, dust and detritus swept into a corner and only a few crates with a mild chemical smell scattered about--it seems the wights' tools and equipment were originally stored in here. Another south door leads into a room where severals rows of bedrolls and satchels can be seen.
Ketra quickly searches the two adjacent rooms (empty ex-storage and sleeping quarters), whispering back to the others "I thought wights didn't sleep. Too full of negative energy for that. Don't tell me I'm wrong. Mirhet would have my head if I messed that up."
Ketra's investigation sweep doesn't turn of anything of immediate interest--the knapsacks and satchels around the bedrolls mostly include low-quality rations, some articles of clothing, and assorting items like grooming kits and the like. Perhaps more interestingly, the door leading south out of the bedroll room is barred, both rope and several wooden boards employed to keep it shut. Ketra doesn't hear anything from the other side, but clearly someone didn't want this door to open.
"Weird. I wonder what they were trying to keep out." Ketra whispers back to the group after describing the barricade southwards. "And was it the wights that put it up... or whoever was here before them."
She heads to the north side of the "surgery" room and looks over the door there. "Ready everyone?"
"Very weird." Ketra murmurs to the others "The wood used for the barricade here's all warped, but the rest of the building isn't. I wonder what happened to end up that way..." She continues checking over the way further northward.
”I wonder what they thought to keep barricaded behind this door,” muses Garret as he goes over and listens for any sounds of life behind the barricade. ”Zsofia, do you think it is worth a peek?” he asks.
“That makes sense to me, too. It’s better than opening it up blindly. Hopefully if anyone’s on the other side of the barricade, they’ll be looking away from the door.”
Sanduro calls for Pharasma’s guidance to aid Zsofia.
Zsofia nods and glides to the barricaded door, taking exaggerated steps on tip-toe as she does. Moving veeeeery sloooowly, she pushes her head into the door, stopping as soon as she can see what’s on the other side in an attempt to avoid having too much of herself be visible to whoever (or whatever) is on the other side.
Ketra holds off on opening the way northward until Zsofia reports back.
Zsofia slowly, cautiously presses through the barricaded door. The room beyond is unlit but visible enough to her phantom sight--and it doesn't take long at all for her to hear the muttering. An angry sotto voce that seems to echo around the room strangely. It takes a few moments of seeking to finally spot the source: a halfling, dressed in fine blue and white robes embroidered with Sarenrae's symbol in golden thread. The figure is hunched over facing the wall, his hands twisting and clenching repeatedly as though wringing the neck of some invisible bird.
A halfling in Sarenite finery could only be Norreth Albo--a priest of Sarenrae who had recently traveled from distant Absalom to Roslar's Coffer to examine the Bastion, with the eventual aim of restoring the temple to working order, if it wasn't in too derelict a state. He had spent most of his time at the ruined temple but spoke optimistically about the chances of it's glorious rebirth.
"A halfling in Sarenrae's robes?" Ketra thinks it over for a moment "The way you describe it, it doesn't sound like he's in a healthy state of mind. But you know, who wouldn't be pretty loopy, trapped in a room like that? On the other hand, the pulse that went out killing and changing everything might've changed him too by the time it got here..." The thought of practically everything turning into monsters is a nauseating one.
"I think I wouldn't feel right leaving him behind. What do you all think, can we get him out?"
"If he's just traumatized, why'd they do that?" Jando points at the barred door leading into the halfling's chamber. "Why wouldn't they just kill him? Gods know that's all they've tried with us--I think they're afraid of him, and I'm not sure that's a good thing."
"Let us undo the barricade and free the priest. If this truly is Norreth Albo, we should help him if we can," suggests Garret. "Let us hope he is of sound mind or at least can be healed of whatever ails him."
"Hey, they're a bunch of ghouls and wights, they probably saw the Sarenite symbol and got all crazy about making sure he couldn't escape to destroy them." Ketra responds to Jando as she starts prying off boards and ropes. "And Garret, I doubt he's particularly sane right now the way Zsofia described it, but that doesn't mean we can't try to get him somewhere safe and on the road to getting better."
As you begin the untie the knotted rope and move aside the boards Zsofia sees the hunched figure of Norreth Albo jerk in surprise, half-turning at the sound but then quickly shuffling into the darkness and cover of the furniture. By the time you get the door open he's nowhere to be seen, but you quickly enough take in the rows of display cabinets whose glass panes have been shattered, contents missing. Nearly a score of painted wooden picture frames line the walls, but the canvas held in each and every one has been shredded to ribbons. An expectant silence hangs in the air.
"Hello? Mr. Albo? Talk to us if you can. We're here to help." Ketra's tone is tentative. Seeing even more of the state of the room, including all the shredded paintings, she's a little worried that they'll be greeted by violence rather than praise.
She scans the room for where the fellow disappeared.
”Norreth Albo, Priest of Sarenrae, We have defeated the wights and necrografts nearby which held you prisoner. We mean to rescue you if you still follow the godess’ healing light,” says Garret, stepping forward and spreading his hands open peacefully.
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There's no answer to your calls, not directly, but Ketra hears Norreth before she sees him--hunched over in the shadows behind one of the broken display cases, hands grasping and clenching as he mutters and curses.
"...creeping, creeping...I can hear them, hear them in the walls, in the floors, they whisper vilest blasphemies why won't they just shut up shut up shut UP!"
Snatching up a handful of broken glass shards Norreth darts forward to hurl them at you. The handful of debris misses you all handily, but the movement brings the halfing out of the shadows into dreadful clarity. His hand was cut where he grabbed the glass, but instead of blood black inky shadows leak from his hands. Worse still are his eyes--or rather, the black pits where his eyes should be, whose barest glimpse freezes your blood and chills your souls.
Norreth Albo is dead. What stands before you is a bodak, a twisted and misanthropic husk driven by profound emptiness, sorrowful longing, and a vengeful hatred of all life.
”Fight the shadow blasphemies! Pray to Sarenrae for deliverance!” implores Garret, though he suspects the priest may already be too far gone…
"Oh. Oh, uh, that's definitely going to heal up. Probably. I hope." Ketra shies back, glancing at the others "Is he possessed by something? He's looking extremely possessed. Can we do something about that?"
In order:
1. Special Attacks?
2. Special Defenses (DR, resistances, immunities; if details require a separate question, that would be #3 instead of what's there)?
3. Best saving throw?
"Oh no! I'm sorry, everyone, but Norreth Albo is long dead. That, that... thing is a bodak. Nothing more than a twisted and misanthropic husk filled by profound emptiness, sorrowful longing, and a vengeful hatred of all life!"
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The phantom rolls her eyes. "Filled by emptiness? Kid, you've got to pick up an Ailson Kindler novel or something and not read so many of those long-winded religion and philosophy books!"
Garret reacts in horror, casting a Shield spell to hopefully partially protect himself!
Silvia's rifle jumps into her hands, a prayer on her lips. Vengeance deliver us.
Bodaks are greatly feared for the death gaze, as mere eye contact can suck the very life and soul from an unfortunate victim. Worse still, this death doubles as a cruel parody of reproduction, for a new bodak arises from the corpse of those slain in this manner.
In addition to all the usual undead immunities, bodaks are resilient against physical attacks as well as acid or fire and outright immune to electricity.
While tough and dangerous, bodaks' stiff and jerky movements make them vulnerable to blasting attacks.
Bodak's unnatural resilience against physical attacks can be defeated with cold iron weaponry, and the touch of natural sunlight is deadly to them, quite literally burning them away.
As Garret raises his hands to weave a spell, the thing that was Norrath Albo shrieks and lunges forward! Inky smoke issues from his clenched his as the small bodak drives it right into Ketra's armored breastplate--no effect.
"Oh f~&* me," Jando curses, darting down the aisle to get some distance before turning and taking aim with his bow. Norreth's head twists around to stare at the archer, who gasps in horrified pain as black necrotic lines creep out from the half-orc's eyes to cover his face. As his black hair shifts to streaks of white, he takes aim and fires back, but the arrow bounces away harmlessly.
+ ROUND ONE +
Norreth
Jando (-3 negative levels)
Silvia
Ketra
Garret
Sanduro
Zsofia
Sanduro yells "Don't look it in the eye! It'll drain the life right out of you! Also it's resistant to some physical attacks, and to fire and acid, and it's completely immune to lightning! But at least it's clumsy!"
Holding up on hand to shield his eyes, Sanduro runs over to stand next to Jando. He flicks his fingers over his shoulder and calls out a prayer.
"Feel the icy hand of the Lady of Graves freezing you out of the brave man's corpse you are desecrating!"
Sanduro casts the only cold spell he has prepared, Flurry of Snowballs, aiming the cone to avoid Ketra.
Zsofia yells, "Nice snowballs, but you forgot something important!"
She looks away from the bodak, and sees the floor through her translucent, still-incorporeal boot.
"Stupid kid."
Still averting her gaze from the terrifying husk of the dead halfling priest, the phantom waves her fists in the air in front of her, shouting "Hey, dead guy! Over here! Are you really full of emptiness and big sadness and apathy? The kid's description made you sound like decomposing version of my annoying cousin!" She winds up for a haymaker and punches at the creature's face, hoping to distract it to make Ketra's job easier.
She takes a step towards the wall, hoping that she and Ketra will be able to flank the bodak (if they survive long enough).