Donal tears the trademark blue tabard from the fallen Watchman's chainmail, stomping his way through the flames and putting the full brunt of his shoulder into the southern door the smoke seems to be rushing towards. It flies open, and to everyone's surprise the light of the morning breaches back...opening into a luxurious 2nd floor balcony overlooking the front yard. A small patio table still sports the half-finished drinks of the previous evening, a few horseflys fighting over a honey glazed crepe.
No guards of the grounds are immediately within sight, but the billowing smoke as it rushes to freedom will no doubt soon garner some attention.
Donal ducks back out, Balcony.
The Flaming Fist guard checks the door behind the guard that they brained at the top of the stairs, hoping the others can douse the flames quickly.
Don, half of the chamber beyond the eastern door is hidden behind a folding wall (shoji screen) painted with a gold leaf bird of prey, while the other half appears to be an old woman's vanity room. A large framed oval mirror watches sentinel over various perfumes, brushes, cosmetics, needles, silks, and threads...the bits you can see sticking out the drawers are all no doubt very expensive. You also see a tall black wardrobe partially open revealing corsets and other finery adjacent to a decorative shaggy gold rug laying in front of three medium sized wooden chests (closed).
Finally, you note the 2 exits from this powder room, one to the north and one to the south. Behind the shoji screen you can tell there are a few windows overlooking an clay-tiled awning.
Seeing the Duke's room, he knows the brother's rooms are the opposite way. However, she would probably hide that puzzle box in her bedroom. The halfling courtier walks into the Duke's dressing room and tries to open the door to the north with a Mage's Hand.
Time is of the essence, Donal checks the North door in the room.
Mal squeaks the door open to the north to reveal not a study (but surely it must be nearby), rather a lavish bedroom. Enough to hold 20 halflings, the ornately carved posts of the canopied bed grip a delicate gossamer shroud for keeping insects at bay. Another privacy screen partially conceals a claw footed bathtub made of solid cast-iron. The other end of the dumbwaiter lies in the southwest corner.
What really catches the lightfoot's eye however is the massive iron chest at the foot of the bed with a large padlock sealing its contents, the lock cast in the shape of a horned devil's scowling visage.
I'll check the other door Donal turns saying over his shoulder, Call if you need help.
The warrior checks the other door in the powder room.
Courier-Mal approaches the Duke and asks her and everyone else, "where's the key to the chest? And is it trapped?"
After a pause, he continues, "I got it. If she doesn't tell us, I'll shield myself with her when I jimmy the lock. So, if there's a trap, she'll eat it. I suppose we should do that regardless, so she doesn't lie, right?"
Don, here then is the study Mal was hoping for. An oak writing desk angled towards the middle of the room has a matching chair behind it an two black candlesticks atop it. Among the other features you see 3 well stocked bookcases, a suit of armor on display only the Lord of Child Murderers would wear, and a spiral staircase presumably leading to up to the top of the tower. Some of the books look rather well cared for and possibly highly expensive, but before you can really browse you hear...
*squeAk*
A little leather strap plops off the armor and falls onto the floor.
Then the entire thing lurches forward as an orange light flares in the hollow helm, infernal runes scribe themselves across its torso and it draws forth a wicked blade!
Init:
Round 1:
Fisk <--UP
Helmed Horror
Grim, Simon, Mal, Donal
Fisk sees the hulking monstrosity booming across the room to impale Donal, glances at his little dagger a moment, and balks "Aha...you've got this, eh fellows! I'll snuff the fire on our flank!" abandoning you to fight the flames.
The animated armor, void of all emotion, swipes mechanically against the Tormtar...
...the cumbersome, jerky movements easily predicted and avoided by the trained warrior.
Donal circles the armor to draw its attention and open up an attack from Mal and Grim, swinging his mace at its head!
Mal dashes in from the bedroom but not forgetting the treasure chest. He loads his crossbow and uses Donal's movements to position the armor.
Courier-Mal approaches the Duke and asks her and everyone else, "where's the key to the chest? And is it trapped?"
After a pause, he continues, "I got it. If she doesn't tell us, I'll shield myself with her when I jimmy the lock. So, if there's a trap, she'll eat it. I suppose we should do that regardless, so she doesn't lie, right?"
Evendur seems focused on distracting the foe, think his blade, now unenchanted will do little. He fights defensively.
-Change of plans. Just using my attack action to have it attack me instead of Donal.
Donal clobbers the thing in its helmet, leaving a permanent dent. It turns to regard the Tormtar...
*fwUMPh* As a bolt of crackling darkness streams towards the animated horror. The creature turns back suddenly, and all the gaps in its armor shrink as the heavy metal plates assemble into a solid barrier. Simon's blast deflects to the north where it shatters a marble bust of Montgomery Silias III, while Malaric's bolt skitters up the stone spiral stairs.
Grim screams "Hey, hey, hey!" swiping and shattering a glass vase with his longblade, sending a cloud of rose petals raining around the thing. The construct fixes its gaze on the Doomguide within...
...and Grim momentarily ponders his wisdom in goading the thing as his left arm is nearly torn from its socket. Were it not for the earth genasi's attention to craftsmanship restoring the armor, that could've gone much worse.
Mal loads his crossbow and uses Donal's movements to position the armor again.
Damn you, tin can! Simon is clearly starting to worry looking at the blow that Grim has just received.
Despite the infernal curses coming along with the gloomy chant, Simon's hands are still shaking a little and he misses. It seems that just a minute ago he was the owner of an incredible fiery infernal power and now he is in mortal danger.
Donal sees the opening and moves to capitalize!
Again the priest draws attention to himself, hoping to leave Donal to destroy the armour.
Donal surges in crushing the plate and sundering a number of tiny bronze rivets. The entire armor seems to lose coherence momentarily, like a puppet on strings each piece of the horror jerks unrealistically. A spout of reddish arcane steam erupts from the impact, the Tormtar feeling the heat wash over him as he retracts for a new assault.
In a single, smooth motion Malaric swipes another bolt from his quiver, pulls the tension on his crossbow, and levels it with a keen, sharp eye. From the relative calm of his position out of the melee, the cunning halfling notices a singular bolt bridging the gap between its helm and gorget. A split second decision as Donal and Grim danced with the thing in melee and he pulled the trigger...the aim was perfect, the impact solid, but an enchantment prevented all but a minor scratch.
Grim shifts his balance to the left leg, widening his stance and appearing to be an easy target. You watch the living gauntlet twist its grip on its longblade, calculating a tactical response instantly. Still, its creator apparently was unable to add enough intelligence for it to see through the Doomguide's feint...and it appears to take the bait.
Simon reaches into his component pouch pulling out a tiny dried newt eye, whispering a guttural ancient curse that seems to grant a dim halo around the noble momentarily. With a slight *pinch* the petrified eye turns to dust, and its streaming remnants hover in place forming some kind of infernal sigil. In response the animated armor's runes burst alight, and the metal seems to buckle somewhat from the incantation...its surface crackling like a drying mud pond. Hoping to blast the withering opponent, the warlock unleashes the gift of his patron...but on a devil's cruel whim the beam refracts, crashing into a bookshelf and sending bits of paper scattering.
Meanwhile Fisk was out in the hall, battering patches of flames with a large blue cape. At a glance, the Candlekeep spy seemed to be making slow progress.
Round 2:
Fisk
Helmed Horror (STR hexed) <--UP
Grim, Simon, Mal, Donal
The armor shows no sign of emotion as it continues to hack away as designed, resembling one of Gond's toy soldiers as it executes pre-determined attack routines...
...again the blade crashes into Grim with a sharp, percussive screech. The priest rolls with the momentum and another swing narrowly misses as he ducks out of the way.
Round 2:
Fisk
Helmed Horror (STR hexed)
Grim, Simon, Mal, Donal <--UP
Donal looks at Grim, taking the hits. Dammit, priest, it is my job to draw attention!
You will fall, infernal trash... Donal taunts, hoping that it will finally see him as a threat as his third blow crushes its helm further!
Mal reloads his crossbow and uses Donal's critical to position the armor again.
Again Grim steps up to distract it, counting on his armour.
Simon tries to get into the animated armor so as not to hurt the allies, but misses again. Nevertheless, the power of the blow is such that another shelf with books is scattered into splinters and now torn and burnt sheets of books are flying everywhere around, spinning as if in a waltz.
As Mal looses another wild bolt from the other room, with maximum aggression Simon's magics pummel the Duke's library. The warlock might start to wonder why his patron is tolerating such a feeble display. But in the flurry of exploding papers, one book seems different...it falls to the ground and opens cleanly to reveal a cut recess in the pages holing a set of keys.
Grim locks blades with the horror, twisting his grip to hold the mechanical sword in place (its strength severely hindered by Simon's magic) grunting "...now!" Donal takes advantage, storming in from behind, the animated armor unable to parry in the slightest. A large metal plate dislodges from the blow, clanking to the floor. Some of the red aura of arcane energy within the construct starts to hiss and steam outwards, condensing on the remaining armor in a oily liquid coating resembling blood.
From out in the fiery hallway, you hear a lot of stomping and cursing as the spy battles the blaze.
Round 3:
Fisk
Helmed Horror (STR hexed) <--UP
Grim, Simon, Mal, Donal
The horror internally updates its percentage of structural damage, noting the threshold has been reached that shifts its tactics from offense to defense as its designer programmed...it turns on the Tormtar to eliminate the greatest threat...
...however its arm movements get jammed, slowing the speed of the swing severely.
Round 3:
Fisk
Helmed Horror (STR hexed)
Grim, Simon, Mal, Donal <--UP
Donal, taking advantage of the Doomguide's distraction, sweeps his mace at the armored abomination's head!
Donal bumps into a nearby chair, throwing off his swing, eliciting a curse...
Mal reloads his crossbow and takes closer aim before releasing the trigger.
The priest turns to attack, noting it is no longer tracking him...
for
- Edit...
Actually can I change that to a grapple? Number doesn't change but seems better given it is str disadvantage
That's enough already. Freeze, stop twitching! Simon briefly interrupts the infernal singing and gives a command to his comrades. Of course, he will never admit even to himself that he missed himself and not because of others... But nevertheless autosuggestion works.
The Doomguide bearhugs the main mass of the armor while pinning its boot with his foot, the arcane animation spewing steam and fluids as it writhes in place. This seems to trigger some predesigned countermeasure, as on its flank a series of panels rapidly jigsaw together effectively blocking the attacks of Malaric and Donal.
With its movements locked down, Simon finally manages to strike the thing fully, but a series of runes flares to life that completely absorb the energies...like tossing a coin into a bottomless well.
Round 4:
Fisk
Helmed Horror (STR hexed, grappled) <--UP
Grim, Simon, Mal, Donal
Still perceiving Donal as the main threat, some foul divination allows the creation to perceive the Tormtar's beating heart. It strikes directly, driven by a singular directive to protect the secrets of the Duke's study...
Round 4:
Fisk
Helmed Horror (STR hexed, grappled)
Grim, Simon, Mal, Donal <--UP
Donal swings hard, missing the head, but denting the chest severely!
Mal reloads his crossbow and takes even closer aim before releasing the trigger.
He tries to pin the armour so that he can set up Donal stave it in.
Simon, in a rage, grabs a dagger and starts poking the revived armor looking for holes... in armor?