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Erathiel had been trying to hold his tongue for most of the time in the sewers. He had not interacted with many kobolds before, and the small spaces were quite uncomfortable. Besides, the less he opened his mouth, the less he had to taste the sewer air.
He could feel the tension running through the whole group as they arrived to the fighting grounds. He saw Darlann arm himself, and he did too. The sound of the metal from his curve blade rasping against the scabbard was precise, soft, methodical. A sound he'd heard a thousand times.
"Tell us exactly what you saw. Spare no detail. Show us exact locations, positions, movements. This will help with the investigation." Erathiel told Yiddlepode. He started inspecting the room, see if the battle had left some obvious clues the kobolds might have missed.
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Chief Yiddlepode replies to Erathiel's directive.
"The encounter lasted a few seconds and none of us got a clear view of the combatants or the merged figure. All three were humanoid and cloaked. One of the combatants and the merged figure were the size of a human. The second combatant was the size of an otyugh. The merged figure had a single glowing red eye in the centre of its head and a powerful presence that made it feel.... more, somehow. The combatants brought with them the scent of fire and flesh. More, I can’t say.”
As you all peer into the room (Slide), Pethjun sings out from behind: "Undead! Weapons up, Sewer Dragons!” The daring kobold brandishes her rapier and dashes down a side tunnel.
“Follow her,” Chief Yiddlepode commands her kobold warriors. As she speaks, a charred humanoid corpse nearly ten feet tall shambles into the meeting site from the southwest hall. Its large central eye is completely aflame, casting flickering red light and the sizzling sound of burning flesh throughout the chamber. The corpse lurches forward, a large spiked club clutched in its hand. Circling around it are two further flaming and flying eyeballs.
“We’ve enemies of our own out here, Pathfinders!” Chief Yiddlepode exclaims. “You handle that brute and we’ll tackle the creatures out here. Be safe.”
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Pethjun's warning shout vivifies Kornel. "Undead, eh?" he chuckles to himself.
He follows after Darlann's brave example, shouting: "Right behind you, friend!" Stopping at the middle of the chamber, he spellcasts a lance of divine power, to pierce to corpse brute.
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Drazzel's eyes go wide and his jaw drops in surprise when he sees the giant zombie-like terror.
We's novice Passa-finders! How's they expect we supposed to fight that thing!?!
Strength in numbers, me guess. Righty, then.
He watches a couple of his comrades move up to engage the giant undead. Taking in a deep breath, he then slowly advances along the north wall. He notices a section of broken flagstone floor with several fist sized chunks of stone.
Carefully eyeing the giant undead, he magically slings a sharp chunk at it.
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After Darlann bravely rushes in, his supporting comrades Kornel and Drazzel blast the behemoth with positive energy and a telekinetically-charged chunk of rock. The creature rocks backward in response to the attacks. One of the flaming eyes flies at Kornel, a gout of flame blasting forth from its iris before it swoops at the sorcerer.
The flaming eye scorches Kornel badly.
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Kurvok stalks toward the undead giant, his eyes narrowed. He gets halfway there before he starts to chant. The breeze around him starts to pick up, and he extends his arms in a V before him. Bolts of lightning shoot out of both hands, heading toward the flaming eye on Kornel, as well as the behemoth.
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Haechi is too far from the portal to see the creatures in the room, but he certainly notices the reactions of those ahead of him. My, I wonder what all the fuss is about?" hearing Pethjun call out, he thinks, "Undead in the sewers? Why am I not the least bit surprised."
As the others start streaming into the room to deal with the new menace, Haechi follows.
Upon entering the room and seeing the large one-eyed brute, Haechi's pace falters for just a moment. "Oh, no; not again!" he says out loud, thinking, "Hmm. He really is quite similar to the one we ran into under the Puddles theater. Well... except for the one eye that is... and the flaming flying (or should that be flying flaming?) eyeballs; those are definitely new."
He calls out to the others, "Um, if this fellow is anything like the last brutish zombie I dealt with in these sewers, then he's probably quite sensitive to slashing cuts. He'll also have a long reach and hit hard enough to push you back a few feet if he connects. Fortunately, the creature was relatively slow and easy to hit, but it still took quite a few blows to finally bring him down."
Haechi then looks around nervously to see if there are any other nasty creatures nearby that he needs to worry about. Noticing the broken rusty blade of an old kitchen knife lying on the ground nearby, he points to it and with a "Missilius ictus immortuos" snaps his hand around to point to the large zombie.
The rusty blade shoots towards the brute and cuts across the creature's chest as it flies by.
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Haechi's telekinetic projectile whips by Darlann into the chest of the one-eyed brute. The creature roars and swings its spiked club down onto Darlann in retaliation!
With a sizzling crunch, the club crushes into the champion's armour, leaving Darlann reeling. The zombie brute isn't done yet; with an audible steaming pop, the single flaming eye of the zombie shoots out of its socket at the creature that last injured it - Haechi!
The eyeball caroms off the golden-scaled kobold's head, felling Haechi, then boomerangs back into zombie's eye socket!
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Erathiel's first strike misses the floating eyeball, but his second strategic strike skewers the thing, which reactively explodes in a fiery gout, showering both the elf and the middle-age human in fiery goo!
The sorcerer manages to shield his face from part of the blast, but the elf takes the entire scorching blow. The remaining flaming eye decides to add further injury to that injury, flying forward so that it positions itself equidistant to both Erathiel and Kurvok. It spins around and fires two blasts of fiery goo, first at the elf rogue, then at the orc oracle!
Darlann feels his wounds tingle in an uncomfortably-warm manner.
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The hulking corpse turns out to be stronger than anticipated, and the floating eyeballs' pestering is troublesome as well. "Keh, this could be bad," Kornel admits, but then adds: "–If I were not here, that is, ah hah!"
He starts spellcasting, and divine magic, glowing in shades of lime green, starts whirling around him in a vortex. The spell is released, and a soothing sensation washes over the chamber.
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Darlann reels back from the brute's heavy blow, but his shield takes the brunt of a hit that would have otherwise nearly swept the half-elf off his feet. He looks at Haechi, suddenly less courageous and more aware of the danger in the situation, but Kornel's healing spell fills him with determination.
"Come at me again, miscreant," he cries, raising his now-battered shield and swinging twice at the zombie.
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Kurvok growls as he is hit by the gout of flame, before Kornel immediately heals the burn. He glances behind him to make sure Haechi is okay, before focusing on his attackers. Another chant, and a single bolt flies from his hand, through the eye, and banks into the zombie. He then hefts his shield, and braces himself.
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When Haetae sees the zombie brute, her first thought is "Oh, no; not again!" She then turns to her master and says,
As usual, her master ignores her suggestion and continues into the room. Haetae then decides that discretion is the better part of valor, and with a...
...she proceeds to dive into Haechi's backpack and wait out the trouble with a modicum of safety. No sooner does she find a comfortable corner to hide in that she feels a jarring thump, quickly followed by a falling sensation as her master slumps to the ground like a dropped bag of potatoes.
Haetae waits a second and then pokes her head out of the backpack to see what's going on. She sees a large lump beginning to form on the side of her master's head and sighs.
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Drazzel shrieks when he sees his kobold companion get hit and fall unconscious.
Ack! It's a be okay, Haechi! Someone will fix you up soon!
Drazzel can feel the warm sensation of magical healing envelope the area and notices Haechi take a deep breath and blink his eyes.
See! Kornel make you feel better! Me's go fight creatures. You'se be careful.
Drazzel stares at the undead giant and tries to remember if he paid enough attention in Religion class and learned anything about these creatures.
He then sees a pile of small stones that crumbled from a section of wall and magically sends one flying at the undead monstrosity.
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Kornel's healing washes over Haechi and works its magic. The wizard blinks twice and looks up at the ceiling. "How on Golarion did I get here?" Quickly replaying the recent events and feeling a shot of pain from the side of his head, he determines, "I think that flying flaming eyeball must have struck me. The gall!"
Haechi then notices Haetae's head sticking out of his backpack, staring at him with a smug look. Before his familiar can say anything, he says,
He sees the flaming flying eyeball not far away and thinks, "Oh no you don't. You're not going to get me a second time."
Haechi prepares another spell. From his prone position, he reaches out three times as if plucking invisible fruit from a tree, and then cups his hands together to form a ball above his chest. He finds the flying flaming eyeball again and flings his hands at it, saying "ardenti volantes oculum, manducet missilia"
Three lumps of concentrated energy shoot forth from Haechi's now open hands. Each takes a slightly different path to the flying flaming eyeball, but all three slam into it at the same moment.
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Kornel stares in horror (or fury) as his positive energy washes over the zombie brute, wreaking no apparent damage. On the bright side, the flaming eyeball twitches with irritation. Darlann's initial slash with his longsword evokes more success against the zombie, though the creature seems to mind little.
Drazzel ponders the existence of such a monstrous before psychically flinging another rock at the beast, thunking it home into its face. The Sewer Dragon's fellow kobold compatriot comes to at the far end of the battlefield, staring up at the flaming undead things in fear and anger. Three silvery missiles of force blast out from the kobold wizard, exploding the remaining eye in a harmless corona of fiery plasma, while riddling the zombie brute with the remaining attacks.
The aforementioned large one-eyed thing lumbers around the champion to get directly at the foe channelling positive energy his way - Kornel! The spiked club swings down with an aura of hellish doom.
The zombie crushes the lightly-armoured sorcerer, leaving Kornel a broken and blistered husk on the ground.
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Haechi sees the large zombie rearing over him and then watches as it comes down hard on the nearby Kornel. "Ouch! That looks like it smarted" He decides that perhaps lying on the ground so close to the brute is no longer a sustainable approach to the situation.
But he then looks over at the unconscious Kornel lying broken and dying nearby and realizes that he cannot in all good conscience leave the poor fellow to his fate.
He supresses his lizard-brain urge to stand and run and instead crawls over to Kornel, pulls out one of his elixirs and feeds it to the dying sorcerer.
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Darlann grits his teeth as the hulking zombie walks around him and towards Kornel, crushing the sorcerer under its mighty club. He raises his shield and sword once again, hoping that the enemy would be too distracted by Kornel and Kurvok to properly dodge his attacks.
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"Surely it cannot take much more," the champion growls. "Continue the offense!"
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While still lying on the cold sewer chamber floor, he uses his sorcery to undo the previous near-fatal injury. Except he doesn't use his conventional healing spell this time; instead, a dark purple flow of energy washes over him. This putrefying effect causes his skin to crackle and wilt, but paradoxically also to close the wounds at the same time.
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Ghak!
Drazzel exclaims when he sees the giant zombie clobber another one of his companions.
Luckily, Haechi crawls over to aid the fallen sorcerer.
He then has a burst of insight.
Ooh! I's remember from Shaine's teachings in class! Big zombie moves slow but can hurt you'se wounds with burning if you'se get too close!
Drazzel's jaw drops when he sees Kornel apparently use dark magic on himself.
"Wowza. Issa he a mage of the dark magik? A neko-mancer?”
He shakes his head in disbelief then snaps his attention back to the ensuing battle.
Seeing his companions do a full assault on the zombie, Drazzel once again magically flings a stone at it.
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"Surely it cannot take much more," the champion growls. "Continue the offense!"
Indeed, the lumbering behemoth cannot withstand the barrage of attacks that follow, culminating in the Sewer Dragon popping one last telekinetic stone into the creature's eye, sending it toppling to the ground with a rumble. Unfortunately, the searing aura that permeates the chamber flares to a climax as the creature's form burns merrily to a pile of ash, scorching all of the injured combatants one last time, branding them with the memory of this combat.
In the aftermath of the battle, your eyes adjust to the ambient lighting once more as your heart rate settles. The chamber in which you stand is dark and dry, with coarse masonry walls, a 15-foot-tall ceiling, and a filthy fitted stone floor. Two wide and two narrow hallways exit this chamber, one of each in both the southeast and southwest corners of the room. A few crumbling stone pillars carved to depict flames still stand in the northern corners. Whatever the ancient room’s original purpose, it has long fallen to disuse.
Triumphant kobold cheers echo down the sewer tunnels. The kobolds, led by Chief Yiddlepode and Pethjun, return to their post outside the meeting site and look in on you.
"We will tend the wounds of our warriors until such a time as we can mutually boast of our victories!" the chief calls out to you, disappearing back into the sewer tunnel from where you came.
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The last flash of heat from the dying zombie singes Haechi's ears and tail. "How rude!" he exclaims as he jumps to his feet and slaps at his robe to put out a couple of small flare-ups. "That was definitely not your normal zombie brute, though I thought the single eye was a nice touch." He turns to Drazzel. "Did you say you knew something about this creature?"
Haechi scours his own mind for any knowledge he's come across of large lumbering one-eyed creatures that would fit the brute's description when it was alive.
Haechi looks at Chief Yiddlepode and wonders if the Sewer Dragons would be kind enough to tend to the Pathfinders' wounds as well. Given his earlier interactions with the Chief, he thinks that unlikely.
He looks about at his own colleagues and spotting Darlann, wonders if he's one of those holy fighter types that can fix people right up with just their hands. He certainly had that look about him. If not, then he dearly hoped that one of the other Pathfinders had some medical knowledge; that had unfortunately not been one of his fields of interest.
While he waits hopefully for someone to tend to his wounds, Haechi wanders about the room and checks to see if there is anything magical about it.
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The chief is outside of your room, busy tending to the multiple wounds of the Sewer Dragon warriors. It appears that two of their warriors are poorly. They do not appear to be in a position to assist you.
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Kornel stands up, a bit singed, but visibly happy that the fight is over. Necromantic magic still lingers in him for a while, yet he looks little worse for wear. "Not your normal zombie, you can say that again..." he muses.
Having calmed his nerves a bit, he turns to Haechi and thanks him, "Haechi my friend, you came to my rescue: I will not soon forget this, ah hah! You, ah, got a bit hurt there? How do you say, the going got a bit rough, eh?"
He unpacks his healer's supplies, and starts treating the wounds of the party , starting with his savior Haechi.
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Haechi makes a pass through the room. He stops in the middle and looks down as if something caught his eye. He gets down on his hands and knees for a closer look. "There appears to be some sort of slightly magical green jiggly slime that has slipped between two stones here. Can anyone make something of it? Except for the slime, there doesn't seem to be anything particulary magical about this place."
He then stands back up and glancing back at the entrance portal, notices something interesting. He walks up to the portal for a better look. Pointing at a couple of spots, he says, "Interesting. There seems to be some remnants of a plaster mural here, and here. It's hard to make out, but it seems to feature storm clouds."
... he turns to Haechi and thanks him, "Haechi my friend, you came to my rescue: I will not soon forget this, ah hah! You, ah, got a bit hurt there? How do you say, the going got a bit rough, eh?"
"Say nothing of it my friend. You save me and I save you; it is the Pathfinder way, is it not?"
Haechi lets Kornel treat his wounds and the singed ears and tail are back to their prior splendor. Unfortunately, the sorcerer could do nothing about the lump that the flaming flying eyeball had left on his head; that still stung like the dickens.
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Yeah! We destroyed the monsters! Good job, Passa-finders. Is you'se all okay?
As Kornel patches up the wounded party members, Drazzel takes a look with his keen reptilian eyes down each passage, noting if any are blocked or continue on. As he gets to each archway, he looks for any signs of traps.
Might be tripwire or pressure plate in passage.
Perception +5
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By the time that Kurvok comes to look in on the Sewer Dragons, the more desperately-wounded kobolds have been stabilised and are on their way to recovery. In the meantime, Kornel fusses over Haechi and ponders the remnants of the zombie brute's corpse.
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"Nice work," Kornel thanks Darlann for his healing efforts. "Good to have another healer in the group, eh, Darlann?"
Once he's done patching up Haechi, Kornel inspects the burnt cyclops corpse. While doing so, his smile widens a degree or two, and he chuckles to himself.
He nonchalantly inserts his bare right hand into the corpse's chest, to get a feeling of the stitched portion.
"Say, have any of you heard of cyclops in Absalom?"
Kornel tends to his own wounds a bit more.
...but is distracted by the intriguing cyclops corpse.
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Kornel feels the stitched and unburnt portion of flesh attached to the cyclops largely-ashen form...and feels something tucked inside it, like a macabre pocket. Reaching inside the flap, the sorcerer draws forth a ragged and aged piece of hide decorated with a strange, scribbled drawing of an obelisk.
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"Though I am capable of healing, I am by no means a healer," Darlann smiles and waves his hand dismissively.
"These hands can do more harm than they can repair, for better or worse. I must rely on my faith and conviction for anything else."
Darlann helps the group with investigating the room in the battle's aftermath, but can't seem to remember anything in particular about the ecology of Absalom's Cyclops.
"You say the Blakros are involved in this? Why am I not surprised," he almost chuckles when Kornel reveals his findings. "My uncle had more than a few run-ins with that family in his heyday as a Pathfinder. I hope whatever their museum has to do with this incident, it is not as dangerous as his stories would imply."
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Haechi rubs at his head and wonders if he should take something for his splitting headache.
He looks at Kornel's picture of the strange obelisk. "How interesting. I wonder why it's chained up like that and why this brute would be carrying around a picture of it? Very odd. You say there's an object just like this at the Blakros Museum? Perhaps we should drop in for a look on the way to see Shristi Melipdra and the Sleepless Suns."
Haechi frowns as he remembers a couple of things from before the fight. "There are a couple of interesting differences between the story we got from Venture-Captain Valsin and the one we heard from Chief Yiddlepode."
He sticks out a clawed finger and says, "One. The captain said the drill came from the surface and went down, but the chief says it came up from below. That is a substantial difference. We'll need to examine the hole to confirm which it is, but I tend to believe the chief's first-hand version of the events in question."
Another clawed finger pops out. "And two. The captain only told us that two figures appeared and fought, merging into one, whereas the chief tells us that there was an additional human-sized figure involved and that the merged figure with the glowing red eye was of a large size."
Haechi looks over at the zombie brute's corpse. "I'm guessing that this mindless undead fellow was one of the beasts that were released from below by the clockwork drill rather than our mysterious merged figure. But as Kornel said, we're probably dealing with a cyclopes either way."
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Once reunited with the Sewer Dragons, Chief Yiddlepode suggests a return to their current base camp. When Haechi suggests examining the hole where the clockwork drill entered their lairs, the chief frowns.
"I can lead you there once we're back at the base, but it's more unstable than it looks. We've lost too many Sewer Dragons in attempts at plumbing the depths that blasted contraption traversed. The drill that destroyed our home dug far deeper than any amongst us care to explore."
When asked again about the figures in the witnessed fracas, Chief Yiddlepode sighs. "I said that none of us got a clear view of the two combatants or the single merged figure, but all three were humanoid and cloaked. One of the combatants and the merged figure were the size of a human. The other combatant - before the two merged - was the size of an otyugh. The merged figure - which was the size of a human - had a single glowing red eye in the centre of its head. I hope that clarifies things.”
Chief Yiddlepode turns to Pethjun, hooking a thumb back at Haechi. "This one is not the former member of our tribe, no? It's the other?" Pethjun grunts and nods at Drazzel.
During the 10 minute journey back to the Sewer Dragons' camp, the kobold warriors (not Pethjun) punctuate the conversation with boastful stories of their battle against 'flying crispy eyeballs'. They encourage you all to share your battle glory as well. Once back at the camp, the tribe welcomes you with stirring drum beats and cheers. Chief Yiddlepode disappears for a few moments; she later finds Drazzel and has a private word.
The team, after a few celebratory pats on the back, is then largely left to continue their investigations as they see fit.
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Darlann slowly sheathes his sword as the brute falls before him, ignoring the blistering heat burning in his wounds as he surveys the party. After the kobolds triumphantly greet them, Darlann walks up to Erathiel, offering an outstretched glowing hand.
"You did well, friend."
"Aye, I appreciate it. Erathiel sits on the floor with one leg stretched, his curve blade parallel to it. I don't understand the magick behind the brute, but I could definitely feel my wounds burning deep."
Erathiel takes out a piece of cloth and begins cleaning his blade. The soothing healing from Darlann reminds him of the balms and unguents from his village. It was 80 years ago when he burned his hand against a hot coal, yet his memories were not of pain, but of love and comfort."Where did you learn to fight? I have never seen such bravery from humans before. Then again, it might be your elven half." the elf grins, then stands up and sheathes his curve blade.
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"That is an interesting question," Darlann replies to Erathiel, seemingly lost in thoughts for a few moments. "The dwarves of the Church of Torag taught me the art of war and strategy, and trained me with my first weapon," he motions with his back so as to draw attention to the warhammer slung there; "and it was my uncle, Sir Haul, Baron of Ceffyls, who initiated me in the ways of the holy champion, and showed me how to find compassion and mercy in my heart even for those enemies some would deem irredeemable..."
The half-elf takes a deep breath and looks down at his longsword, unsheathing it and running his hand over its blade before sheathing it back in place and tapping its scabbard twice.
"But I'd like to believe it is my undying faith in Iomedae, and in Torag and Sarenrae, that fills me with bravery even before near certain death."
He smiles again at Erathiel, part charmingly part awkwardly, then quickly turns his head to look at the resting kobold tribe.
"Of course, all these pretty words matter little in the heat of battle, between the swings of the blade. Your faith, your bravery, your upbringing, they do less to protect you from an enemy's attack than a trusty shield. Come now, we've many clues to decipher before the mystery is unraveled."