On Samen's turn, he plants his feet and draws arcane power into his staff.
Like a released spring, he wills himself into the fray, and like a bolt of lightning, charges toward the snake creatures.
Osna ambles around the double-headed snake looking for a weak spot to strike.
Once he reaches the opposite side, he concentrates his power into his gladius and strikes the creature close to its spine. As he strikes, five Osna appear, moving into each other to confuse his opponent.
Wrenching the blade back, he turns it into the wound to cause as many damage as possible and weaken the creature.
,
,
Round 1 so far
Osna rips into the creature with his gladius, both of the snakes shrieking in pain. From this close vantage point, you now see that this is one large creature with two heads.
Phon Vos listens to the sound of the developing battle as she crawls down the tunnel in her armor. She prays she will be in time to help her allies.
Wamblee interposes himself between the monster and the cowering ifrit. (full defense action for now)
Samen hits once with his heavy arcane staff, but the other attack misses.
The two-headed snake shrieks again, "Traitor! Our contract is broken!"
The monster begins rapidly hissing and squealing in a terrible cacophony. All four of the amber-yellow eyes glow with lurid magic. A bare second later, hundreds of the creeping tiny snakes converge, forming three swarms the size of an elen. You see small, sharp mouths.
The first swarm attacks Osna.
The second swarm attacks Samen.
The third swarm crawls over the cowering ifrit - not attacking, but searching,
and the mass of tiny snakes takes something--a potion, perhaps?--from the ifrit's pocket and he wails and hides from the wiggling swarm.
"I've got noting against swarms." says Osna in Sylph.
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Phon moves into the room and quickly surveilles the scene.
Understanding and nodding at Osna, Phon stands in the center as best she can and flips her Lucerne to crush the swarms.
"Deal with the others, I can try to handle the swarms."
Osna concentrates on the giant two headed snake, taking advantage of the presence of his companions on the other side of the monster.
,
His strike done, he takes a step to the side to get out of the swarm burning attack.
Samen twirls his staff around, preparing to bring it down once more upon the monstrosity. "I prefer a big single target anyway!"
He forces more ice magic into his staff, causing frost to form on the tip.
Phon Vos takes command of the room, hefting the long, vicious hammer ably. Taking a warmup swing, she squashes half a swarm near Samen. Taking a wide stance, Phon Vos waits for the enemy to move.
Samen and Osna stab and pummel the two-headed monster. It claws at Samen's ice magic, trying to rip off the frozen skin. It whines and writhes. Blood pours from wounds, coppery orange and acrid-smelling.
And suddenly, its mad convulsions of pain stop. Dead?
Then things happen very quickly. All the swarms start to converge on the dying snake.
The swarm next to Samen moves toward the two-head,
Thud goes the hammer as Phon Vos circles around with the momentum of her first swing and hits again. The first swarm is dead. (deleted)
The swarm that took something from the ifrit crawls away,
and splortch goes another half a swarm, the ichor dripping from the face of the hammer.
Wamblee also strikes the feeling swarm,
but unfortunately he does less damage than Phon Vos, and this swarm survives.
Finally, the swarm next to Osna moves,
and Osna's blade slices through a dozen or so of them.
This last swarm moves in conjunction with the other. In a strange motion that mimics intelligence, the writhing piles form two crude pincers (far too clumsy to be called hands) that tip the potion into one of the mouths of the snake. A white potion...
And just as suddenly, the shrieking hate of the snake returns. Addressing the ifrit again, "What is this continued treachery? Forget our bargain of white potions for gold ; why do you betray our cause? Has that foul Moon gotten to you with a deal better to your liking? Who are these ugly magic users in my domain?"
"My lords! I do not know these mad elens! Perhaps they are agents of Moon! The ifrit continues to cower, overwhelmed by the violence.
Turning to Phon Vos, the snake monstrosity speaks in tortured smoking language while the eyes of its right head glow even brighter.
This round you will attack and take AoOs against your allies. You will also quickly tell the snake why you are here and attacking.
As a swift action, a warpriest can expend one use of this ability to cast any one warpriest spell he has prepared with a casting time of 1 round or shorter. When cast in this way, the spell can target only the warpriest, even if it could normally affect other or multiple targets. Spells cast in this way ignore somatic components and do not provoke attacks of opportunity. The warpriest does not need to have a free hand to cast a spell in this way.
The target creature gains a +4 morale bonus on saving throws against mind-affecting effects that rely on negative emotions (such as crushing despair, rage, or fear effects) or that would force him to harm an ally (such as confusion). If the target is already under such an effect when receiving this spell, that effect is suppressed for the duration of this spell. It does not affect mind-affecting effects based on positive emotions (such as good hope or the inspire courage bard ability). A creature can still be charmed or otherwise magically controlled while under this spell’s effects, but if such a creature ever receives a new saving throw against that effect as a result of being ordered to attempt to harm or otherwise oppose a true ally, he can roll that saving throw twice and take the better result as his actual roll.
Calm emotions counters and dispels unbreakable heart.
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The undine felt magic wrap around her, but she was familiar with what it may be and focused her energy to ensure that it would not take hold.
Not today. I have enough darkness bubbling up inside to let something outside in.
She moves up to threaten the swarms and the twin-headed snakes, on the chance it casts more magic.
"Osna, watch out!"
"We are no Moon servants! We are chasing them. They passed through here and killed one of ours. Surrender and disband your younglings or face our wrath for we haven't even flexed our muscles"
Osna raises his sword crackling with magical energy.
Two sets of malevolent eyes regard you. The creature makes a quick calculation, looking at both Osna and Samen, who have nearly killed it once before. The snake makes a strange motion, like a backward bow, both of its heads bending down in submission.
"We can talk of things. Yes." The yellow glowing of its eyes subsides, and the swarms trickle away to nothingness, once more just a tiny wiggle on the tunnel walls here and there.
The ifrit stands up, brushing himself off. You can see beneath the grime and ash of the tunnels, he is dressed quite finely.
"What makes you say such things? I have my business here with my lords, and none of us are beholden to that dreadful Moon."
Samen glares at the snake, angrier that he can't keep hitting it. It was always easier to beat the thing until it stopped moving. Wamblee had always let him beat things to death.
Nevertheless, he channels his anger, like elemental fire, toward his true foe. "I've flayed his servants, worn his skin, and witnessed his madness. I am no friend of Moon. I witnessed his rise, and I would see his fall. Speak of your opposition, your plan, and why you constructed a simulacrum of our friend. Lie, and the violence continues."
Both snake heads lower their heavy, scaled brows in confusion when Samen mentions your friend. After a moment, the snake's eyes turn toward the ifrit once more. "v'Apore. Introduce me to these magic users and you will enlighten me on what they are talking about."
You now see the proud lines of old noble lineage in the v'Apore lad. He is young, perhaps third or fourth in line you would imagine. Fear makes him look even younger. Brushing himself off one more time, he straightens up.
"Yes my lords. Ahem."
v'Apore addresses your group. In a formal tone, he states, "Please announce yourselves to my Master Kessh-Amon, who is slave to Overmaster Kesshul-Amovn-Tesssisl." The consonants are strange, belonging more to a forked tongue perhaps, but the young ifrit does a passable job with his pronunciation.
Samen tries to not get distracted by the unusual language, interesting as it may be. "I'm nobody of importance, but our 'friend' was Captain Margherita. We traced her creators or manipulators to this location and your family. We're here for answers.
I've gotta say though; I was expecting a lot of things, but snake-people wasn't on the list."
Names have power but nicknames don't. Let's play this game.
"I'm Osna. And as my companion said, the v'Apore family is dealing in mind controling potions that were found on the body of a creature made with our Captain's body or looking just like her. Now we want explanations and it better be quick and complete, master v'Apore."
"Well, you see my lords...I needed skin for your offspring-"
"Yes? And some suitable holy warrior was found?"
The young v'Apore wipes his brow. "Well, you see my lords...my house has fallen upon hard times...and there was a certain profit to be made by impersonating people of use-"
-it happens in an instant. v'Apore is pushed to the ground by a sudden angry wave of snakelets, covering all but his head. As Kessh-Amon approaches, one snakelet crawls to the ifrit's left eye, teeth delicately encircling it.
The two-headed snake's yellow gaze is mirrored in the terrified ifrit's own eyes. A whimper emerges from the young el. He is careful not to move.
"Explain, slave. Make it right, or forfeit your life to these." He indicates all of you with a sweep of its long tail.
I think I'm starting to like this Kessh-Amon. He's got a good sense of humor.
"So that was Marg's real skin that thing was wearing? What are you even playing at, and why are you so bad at it? Sounds like a classic case of misallocation of resources."
I should probably ask what business they have harvesting elen skin in the first place. That's a normal thing to ask, right? Maybe now isn't the time.
"We are on agreement here, v'Apore. We don't want excuses. First we want facts. Tell us what your family did with those skins. How did you obtain them and what were your intentions in the future. It seems you have not told the whole story to Master Kessh-Amon and his people, either. And your familly will be in even deeper trouble if it ends up making enemies left and right."
v'Apore tries to remain calm. "I...am the youngest in my family." As he begins to speak, the snakelet backs away, and his voice is steadier. "My name is Domingo." He sighs, whimpers, perhaps on the verge of tears. "I want to be clear. It was just me, alright? The rest of my family are still being idiots trying to revive the steam business."
"Well, to make a long story short, ah, I used a contact I have at the Condottieri, an old war compagno of my father's. I...I told him I could use an actor to replace the leader of a rival mercenary company. He paid a surprising amount to have it done." He shrugs. "Must have been your company, I'm afraid."
A moment of silence follows. "I can still help you somehow, you know? You don't have to kill me."
Speaking in that strange double-tone voice once more, Iniga says, "Domingo v'Apore, you threw away an ifrit warrior's life for gold, and you have wasted a precious and rare being. You are the creator of clumsy, pointless abomination. The Cauldron Lady and the dead have spoken ill of you."
Kessh-Amon is still processing v'Apore's story, the Common tongue clearly not its primary language. It looks over to where Iniga indicates the head-shaped rock--the skull, that is--of the strange creature you fought. The snake freezes utterly, all attention on the remains.
"My...offspring...?"
-quick as lightning, the second head has already attacked v'Apore, one of its large fangs piercing entirely through his hand. The young noble cries out in pain and drops to the ground, but he is still alive and not bleeding overmuch.
Kessh-Amon slithers away, cursing hideously in its rasping dialect of Exhume.
It backs into a corner and stares hatefully at the ifrit. The salamander appears to be trying to get a handle on its rage.
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It suddenly occurs to Samen that this must be a salamander.
"Ohhh, you're not an abomination at all! You're either a guest or an invader. Let me greet you properly."
Once again, Samen channels energy from a far off place right into his soul.
"I don't know how long you've been here, or what your intentions are, but welcome to the plane of elens. This one has wronged us both greatly. We would like to know who, specifically, he was working for, and then we would be happy to assist you in dealing with your slave as you see fit."
"Ah! Finally someone who can speak properly! You are interesting, some kind of ifrit?" It says all this without interruption, while its second head breathes in, "Well, nevermind. You will find who his false master is? Hmm...yes, you are very clever. And you have stitchcraft on your face, very powerful you must be." It pauses for a moment, a gleam of appraisal in its four eyes. Then, brusquely, "Well, ask the slave who his false master is! Let us be on with it!"
One of the salamander head hisses and coughs at Samen, while the other head noisily breathes in. Its movement is less agitated now; it appears to be pleased at whatever Samen is saying. Faint smoke trickles from its nostrils, a dusty yellow color.
v'Apore weeps and cradles his pierced hand, trying to remain quiet.
Samen nods at Kessh-Amon. He turns to the doomed noble and give an honest assessment of his situation.
"You're in a room full of people who are willing, if not eager, for you to die for your actions. I cannot speak for Kessh-Amon, but we would rather deal with the one who hired you."
He scratches his newly hairless head awkwardly, "Oh, and you might want to hurry. I'm not an expert in Salamander physiology, but I'm guessing you have until that head exhales to make your decision."
"Alright! Valerius Entoro! He's been holed up in the Condottieri ever since he lost his commission as a Captain of the Watch."
Phon takes the moment to adjust to the situation, the mind spell keeping her on a state of dizziness.
"What else can you tell us about this Entoro? Why did he lose his commission?"
"Umm," he looks over at Kessh-Amon's angry visage and loses his thoughts, "uh, I remember he's a big drinker. Something really bad happened to him, but my father never talked about it. I never asked Signore Entoro." He continues to cradle his hand; the flesh around the fang wound is slightly purple.
"And did you agree or plan to have other people replaced the same way?", Osna presses with more questions as the hapless V'Apore seems to be spilling the beans.
"Sure, he wanted to replace more, but we needed more, ah, offspring..." He again looks toward Kessh-Amon, but the salamander's expression does not change. "So I only trained the one. It was a trial, to see how it worked."
"Now what are you going to do to help me out? I'm answering your questions. Please, I don't want to die in this pit!"
Samen shrugs. "Well, I'm satisfied."
He turns to Kessh-Amon.
For what it's worth, letting him stay alive for the truth to shame his family would do them more harm than ending his sorry life today, but it's up to you."