They walk further into the room and are addressed, at first diplomatically by the booming voice, but then it turns to how feeble and mortal they are.
"Grand Phistophilus Chyvvom. You insult us. We are masters of our crafts. Do you think we cannot comprehend this realm or the machinations of your master?" she chuckles sarcastically.
The devil grins, revealing a row of gleaming white fangs. "Ah, I see! My apologies. Since you are so thoroughly informed and knowledgeable in many subjects, you shall have no issue reaching favourable terms in our upcoming negotiations. Surely you comprehend that is the only way forward?"
"Alas, I have no means of contacting anyone at this juncture," the cleric responds quietly. "Though given what I have seen of our martial capabilities, I have no doubts as to our ability to bludgeon even this fiend to death within moments."
Anethra takes in the environs with an appreciative eye, and considers the devil with something akin to remorse.
"It is a true honor to meet such a being as yourself, Grand Phistophilus Chyvvom. Would that this were another occasion, and you and I had time to deliberate with decorum. Alas, the company that I keep is most adept at tearing obstacles apart with their bombs and weapons. This conversation shall be short lived."
The devil grins, revealing a row of gleaming white fangs. "Ah, I see! My apologies. Since you are so thoroughly informed and knowledgeable in many subjects, you shall have no issue reaching favourable terms in our upcoming negotiations. Surely you comprehend that is the only way forward?"
”Reveal to us the logic of this place, Dark One”, Viridel says. “Is this trap realm known by the Headmaster? For what end is this place for?”
How many souls have you fouled? he thinks.
Bayard stays very still, little more than his eyes moving. He has no interest in negotiating with devils, but He fully intends to be ready when it inevitably comes to blows.
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Anethra takes in the environs with an appreciative eye, and considers the devil with something akin to remorse.
"It is a true honor to meet such a being as yourself, Grand Phistophilus Chyvvom. Would that this were another occasion, and you and I had time to deliberate with decorum. Alas, the company that I keep is most adept at tearing obstacles apart with their bombs and weapons. This conversation shall be short lived."
"Your prowess is most impressive," admits Chyvvom, his confidence unshaken, "for mortals, at least. Do you seek to intimidate me? I do not fear obliteration. To fail in my duties, my very purpose, is a far greater terror."
Chyvvom suddenly points at Wolfe, who has crouched into a ball and pressed his hands overs his ears. The great fiend turns to address Bayard and Grymwold in particular. "This is what awaits you, should you slay me. An eternity of torment with no escape—nothing would be solved; no-one would be saved. Fortunately, I am here to offer you an alternative, should you prove cunning enough to seize it."
”Reveal to us the logic of this place, Dark One”, Viridel says. “Is this trap realm known by the Headmaster? For what end is this place for?”
"I am under no obligation to reveal anything," retorts the devil, somehow managing to sound both mockingly snide and apologetically contrite at the same time. "However, I shall answer your questions in the interest of demonstrating my... goodwill. You ask of the headmaster's complicity? Bah! Young Toff is a master of nothing. The wretch has no true knowledge as to what occurs here, though he must suspect. My lord alone mandates these games, and the headmaster obeys, sending his lambs to the slaughter out of blind fear. Nothing happens in the Acadamae without my lord willing it."
"As for the purpose of Belzeragna... Ah, what a question to ask a True Son of Hell! There is one end alone that holds any true meaning: the accumulation of quintessence through the methodical harvest of mortal souls."
"We could produce alchemical snow back there at the lab, then I could just manufacture a clone of him and have him open the portal for us..." she mutters under her breath while blocking her mouth with her hand. "I say we just take our chances and take his head."
She does consider the fate of her brother, and thought for a moment about making a deal for the chance to escape. Knowing deals, any contract made would likely bind either him or her soul here, so it is a moot point. She decides to fight for a chance, unless someone else has an idea.
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Anethra responds with tacit resignation: Alas, Great Lord, we are ourselves but pawns before the greater pieces at play. This party of mortals has crushed all opposition without effort. Their might is unparalleled. If I thought I had hope of besting them by joining efforts with you, I would. But there is no hope. I speak this in the name of Asmodeus. Their might could be checked by our Master, perhaps, in direct confrontation, but you and I? Not a chance.
Anethra's certainty is absolute.
"I am under no obligation to reveal anything. However, I shall answer your questions in the interest of demonstrating my... goodwill. You ask of the headmaster's complicity? Bah! Young Toff is a master of nothing. The wretch has no true knowledge as to what occurs here, though he must suspect. My lord alone mandates these games, and the headmaster obeys, sending his lambs to the slaughter out of blind fear. Nothing happens in the Acadamae without my lord willing it."
"As for the purpose of Belzeragna... Ah, what a question to ask a True Son of Hell! There is one end alone that holds any true meaning: the accumulation of quintessence through the methodical harvest of mortal souls."
Viridiel's mind is cast back to what occurred before...
First, there is a procession of faces: the desperate, the greedy, the young and hopeful, the ambitious, the old and jaded—mortal lives stretched out like an impossibly long tapestry fluttering in the wind, tangling and twisting around itself until it tears; until the outflown shreds become like moths around a lantern, slowly circling around the deadly luminance of their imminent annihilation. Finally, the light blinks out, and there is nothing left but a constellation of blurry shadows, darker than darkness itself: they are like blind spots in the Sight of Fate, which surround the metaphysical locus of the Hall of Wards (as reflected off the mirror-like Spirit of the Hall of Seeing) and riddle it through like an infestation of ravenous termites, except there is no sign of the cause or consequence of their burrowing—only an utter absence of being starting from the moment of entry. You begin to hear it: the horrid shrieking of that unnatural non-existence, maddened by its own wrongess, bleeding quintessence where something has been cut off and replaced with foulness. Slowly but surely, with the heavy weight of inevitability, you feel yourself being drawn towards that very same trajectory. All of it becomes too much to bear, and you are forced to close your Third Eye...
The elf's gaze does not leave the muscular devil, but a line of blood drips from his marked forehead.
"Speak quickly, then," Viridel spat. "What 'deal' do you offer?"
Telepathically, he delivers a warning to the rest: "Sir Bayard, if you are ready, I will telekinetically launch you at the devil. Everyone else, be prepared for the worst.
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The telepathic communication ends.
"Speak quickly, then," Viridel spat. "What 'deal' do you offer?"
The devil bows his head slighly in gratitude, without taking his gleaming eyes off the group. "There is a multitude of things I could offer you: anything your hearts desire. The return of lost friends, lovers, pupils... But, as you request, I shall cut to the heart of the matter: exit from Belzeragna is forbidden to mortal souls; it has never been done before. However, working together, we might be able to find a... loophole... through which your valiant troupe could slip out. I simply ask you to negotiate for your release—what do you have to lose? Only time, and here in Belzeragna, time is an abundant resource. If the drafted contract is not to your liking, you can always leave it unsigned, and turn your blades on me then..."
The devil flashes a knowing grin. You do not think he is privy to your telepathic communication, but clearly he realises you are plotting something.
"If it's never been done before, why would we expect it will be done this time? Unless...you already know of a loophole..." she calmly suggests.
"Let us negotiate," asserts Anethra calmly. "It is as he says: if we do not like the terms when all is said and done, there is always the edge of the sword. What do you demand, Great One, in exchange for helping pass through this loop hole?"
Consciously disciplining his mind to NOT communicate this via telepathic link lest Anethra overhear, Grym arches his eye warily at Viridel as Anethra engages the fiend in pleasantries. Viridiel knows this look from Grym means that Grym is looking to him for guidance in this situation.
Grym is a seasoned warrior and no longer looks at every obstacle as something to be overcome with force. But he's not happy about negotiating with fiends and will explode into violence if directed to by Viridel.
Bayard makes a sour face at the prospect of negotiating with devils, but reluctantly nods when Anethra points out the possibility of resorting to violence later.
Viridel notices Grymwold eyeing him, and gives a small nod and a warm smile. It seems as he was thinking.
"If it's never been done before, why would we expect it will be done this time? Unless...you already know of a loophole..."
"Perhaps, assuming he is telling the truth," Viridel replies, and looks at the devil directly, recalling Maginrad's assessment of the extraplanar dungeon, and the information gleaned from Marijkal.
"Marijkal has a superior named Chyvvom, whom she called the 'Exchequer of Contracts'.
Chyvvom is ostensibly the sole being with the authority to release those entrapped here—no egress, magical or otherwise, is possible without his sanction."
He is about to speak, but the tiefling priestess speaks first. He awaits the devil's return, but his amused countenance can be read easily. He does not make any attempt at inviting a contract, nor declaring his wishes, and the apparent hostility of his party (with the sole exception of Anethra) to deal speaks volumes.
"That will not be necessary, priestess. No one here needs any 'loophole'. The fiend lies," Viridel says coldly. He directs his words, sharp as a silver blade, at the devil. "We know that you can release whomever you desire whenever you desire; your consort revealed that much before we destroyed her. Starting off with a transparent lie is not a good opening move--" he says. He then follows acidly with, "O 'Great One'"."
"Let us negotiate," asserts Anethra calmly. "It is as he says: if we do not like the terms when all is said and done, there is always the edge of the sword. What do you demand, Great One, in exchange for helping pass through this loop hole?"
Chyvvom nods magnanimously. "Nothing so priceless as your eternal souls. All I ask is that one day, sometime in the future, either myself—or the powers which I represent—shall receive absolute obedience from those undersigned for a designated period of time. Perhaps... a single Golarian year. Naturally, this will all have to be laid out in more detail at the drafting stage, but that is the crux of my offer: freedom at the price of future service."
Before anyone can protest, the devil raises his arms in a conciliatory manner. "Mind you, this is merely an opening bid, not an ultimatum. I welcome your attempts at bringing the price down to something less... disagreeable."
"If it's never been done before, why would we expect it will be done this time? Unless...you already know of a loophole..." she calmly suggests.
"That will not be necessary, priestess. No one here needs any 'loophole'. The fiend lies," Viridel says coldly. He directs his words, sharp as a silver blade, at the devil. "We know that you can release whomever you desire whenever you desire; your consort revealed that much before we destroyed her. Starting off with a transparent lie is not a good opening move--" he says. He then follows acidly with, "O 'Great One'"."
Chyvvom stands up straight, every mote of his quintessence exuding a sense of immortal pride and otherworldly authority.
"I do not lie," he states plainly. "That is the purview of demons."
"Hear this, mortals. These are self-evident truths of this realm, as real as the rains and winds that scourge your home-world: I am the guardian of this gateway, the only being entrusted with the ability to open it. Yet no mortal soul has departed since I assumed my duties, for I am also the Exchequer of Contracts. The master of this realm wills that anyone who desires to leave must bargain for the privilege, and I am more than proficient at bargaining."
"To put this in plainer terms: I hold the key, but I may not—nay, cannot—use it without first asking for a toll. Of course there is a loophole—there is always a loop-hole. You have but to reach out and find it. However, my purpose is to negotiate terms which are favourable to my liege. Do you understand?"
As soon as it becomes clear that negotiations are off the table, Chyvvom sighs ruefully. "What a deplorable waste..."
Responding to a wink from Viridel Grym 5fts forward (to unplug the bottleneck) and launches a barrage of shield tosses at the boss trying to drive him up against Viridels Wall of Force
Ranged Flurry-2
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Viridel drifts forward quickly, the first to act, making a complex gesture with his fingers, manifesting a silvery screen of pure force, emblazoned with elven runes of warding.
”You did little before, so stay out of this fight as well,” the elf declares mockingly, manifesting a Wall of Force.
Azniroth rose to the air, crying sonorously, augmenting Viridel and all his allies with the Haste spell.
”Gate-keeper of this foul realm, the hour of your doom is at hand.”
+1haste +2Foretelling
Ranged Flurry-2
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
As soon as Grymwold's shield crosses over the crackling magical circle, there is a blinding flash. When the light dims, the armour-made-weapon has disappeared.
You can hear a crash from the room you just came through. Looking back, those in the rear can see the shield clattering to the floor within one of the smaller circles.
Upon seeing the shield become absorbed by the portal, she figures that the devil established this beforehand in anticipation for their refusal. She hikes up her robes and runs right toward the enemy to her right. In an instant, she picks up her supplies and forms a bomb, hurling it at Chyvvom and those around him.
Elann follows suit, moving into the room behind Laree and throws a sphere of sunlight from her bottled sunlight to shine down upon her master. As the light strikes her, it seems like Laree's skin bears a regenerative quality.
Grym watches frickin magic interferes with his shield toss
what the...
And thankfully he hears it clamor behind him and he yells at the two stragglers in the back Hey! Fetch me shield!
Bayard chants a short invocation in Celestial. When he finishes, he sprouts white-feathered wings. Then he looses his shield and takes up his axe, which begins to glow like a torch.
Anethra sighs
What a waste indeed. Still, she's confident her companions will end this fight quickly. She crosses her arms and decides to make sure of that fact before acting. No sense in getting involved before she knows which side will win.
Then the dwarf yells, and she smiles. Ah. The perfect excuse to not attack the demon.
Anethra strolls back to where the shield lies and fetches it.
While Bayard and Viridel read their respective prayers and spells, Laree rushes up to the balcony to lob a bomb at Chyvvom. The great devil grimaces at the blast of magical energy, but does not take his eyes off Bayard. He reacts to the paladin's prayers much like they were grievous personal slights.
Anethra goes to fetch Grymwold's shield, picking it up from where it appeared within the circle. As she attempts to leave, however, she finds that some oppressive force is keeping her from crossing back over the glowing lines carved into the floor.
Maganrad studies the grooves and curses. "I cannot break the circle. There were not any spells in the grimoire that can mar stone..."
The enchanter pushes Wolfe behind him and tries to dismantle the circle's magical energies, causing its glow to flicker violently, but the abjuration proves too mighty.
With their movement restricted by Viridel's magical barrier, two of the erinyes teleport out to the middle of the room, avoiding the space above the great circle. Their unhindered sister focuses on Laree, throwing at the alchemist what appears to be a rope of raven-black hair, much like the strands on her very own scalp. The rope seems to have a life of its own, wrapping itself around its target even as the devil draws its sword and closes the distance between them.
Now reduced to expendable pawn himself, Nagxiv begins to approach just as reluctantly as his own erstwhile minions. He slinks to one side, casting rays of fire at both Bayard and Grymwold, clearly hesitant to get within arm's length. Yet, as if driven by an invisible scourge, the hamatula trudges slowly forward.
Chyvvom begins to float off the floor. He raises one arm, causing a gruesome staff to appear in his hand in a burst of dark fire: it looks to be constructed from all the bones of a singular humanoid and held together with sinew, topped with that poor unfortunate's rib-crowned skull. With the other hand the contract devil points at Bayard, intoning a spell which sends a lance of black energy towards the paladin. As the malevolent energy strikes him in the chest, Bayard can feel his life-force ebb.
Laree will make a series of bombs in quick succession. With Chyvvom in the air, she makes use of her bombchucker and hurls her bombs with arching speed into his intended path.
-2 from entangled
Her eyes then settle on the erinys in front of her. She attempts to launch a bomb at the space between them, allowing the damage to engulf the rope as well as harm both the Erinys and her.
*-2 from entangled.
"Do you really wish to follow his commands? Look around you, is it really worth it to you to die? To him, you are just expendable. Just go."
--------------
Elann will ready a briar bomb and will launch it toward the Erinys (the one Laree is speaking to), as well as toward Nagxiv. The sticky mixture should anchor them in place unless they are too agile for her.
Bayard barely notices the scorching ray, merely smiling as it washes across him.
He hen flies across the room, nimbly avoiding the large circle. As he does so, he gestures to Chyvvom with his axe. "By my oath, this day you fall!"
Crit? (x3)
Viridel motions a circle with his hand, targeting the magic circle to undo the trap formed against his allies.
Viridel's familiar flies towards Laree An, carrying a sleek wand in its talons. Asniroth touches her back, enhancing her.
Anethra walks back over to Grymwold with a sigh.
"Your shield, sire. Though you'd best hurry up. The fight's already almost over."
Grym receives his shield from Anethra gratefully Thank you madam
and launches a series of throws at the blue eryines attacking Laree An. Not wanting to risk throwing his shield at the boss devil with the teleport circle protecting him. Besides, Bayard seems to have the main devil well in hand.
foretell +2 Haste+1
Ranged Flurry-2
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Viridel's abjuration is successful: the yellow glow dims, but does not go away entirely—apparently, the magic is permanently fused into the carved sigils. Still, Anethra has a chance to exit the circle, returning to Grymwold his primary implement of warfare. With his trusty shield in hand, Grymwold brings down the erinys menacing Laree. The dwarf then flings a warning shot at the approaching Nagxiv, who nimbly dodges the attack.
Elann throws her bombs at the enemy, but fails to entrap them in the alchemical goo. Meanwhile, Laree pelts Chyvvom with multiple bombs, softening the contract devil for Bayard's charge. The last bomb falls at the half-elf's feet, disintegrating the magical rope still wrapped around her.
Aglow with empyreal power, Bayard circles towards Chyvvom and delivers unto the phistophilus Dammerich's divine judgment. Even afflicted with a life-sapping spell, the paladin nearly decapitates the fiend with one fell swoop, cutting through the various force fields and the creature's very own profanely tough hide. Incredibly, the Exchequer of Contracts yet stands, though he bears a grievous wound across his neck.
With a desperate hiss, Nagxiv dashes at Grymwold over the sticky floor. The hamatula launches itself at the dwarf, attempting to draw him into a barbed embrace, but the ever-growing spines scrape and snap harmlessly on the dwarf's armour and shield.
The remaining erinyes, seething at the demise of their sister-in-arms, nevertheless retain their centuries-trained discipline. One flies along a circuitous route, prudently landing near Laree in such a fashion that Grymwold cannot see it from below the balcony. Along the way it flings its rope and draws its sword, much like the previous assailant. Only when Laree is wrapped up does the other erinys—now also perched safely out of the Shieldstorm's way—starts launching arrows across the rotunda. However, even tangled up in a rope, the alchemist proves too slippery a target.
As holy radiance surges through Bayard's axe into Chyvvom's body, the devil's impeccable composure finally cracks—he reels and bellows in agony. Baring fangs spattered with black blood, the fiend strikes back, his many contracts whipping out to cut and constrict. Deceptively sharp-edged and durable, a few manage to slash into Bayard's skin, drawing an alarming amount of blood. Soon the paladin finds himself entangled in the long strips of parchments, drawn closer and impaled painfully into the long, curving horns that jut out of the fiend's back.
To her complete lack of surprise, Anethra sees the devil's composure shatter before Bayard's might; the paladin nearly finishes off their foe with only a blow, and surely will end the fight altogether within the next few seconds.
In fact, all of her companions are acquitting themselves with the same impeccable lethality as they've manifested in every battle thus far, and this one is proving no different.
So it is regret that she feels, but also relief, for not having chosen to openly side with Chyvoom. She'd already be dead if she had.
Still, she'd best do a little something so that her companions don't view her with suspicion after. Moving with elegant grace, she walks up behind Bayard and taps him on the shoulder as he thrashes amongst the razor-sharp contracts.
Grym proceeds to smash the barbed devil away from him and launches a series of throws continuing the barrage, possibly making the devil reconsider his career choices
haste +1
Melee, 2handed, Flurry-2
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bayard feels his wounds begin to knit back together, and knows the likely source, though he doesn't bother wasting time by checking. Instead, he flicks his wrist, dropping his dagger from its spring-loaded wrist sheathe. Then he proceeds to try and finish Chyvvom off.
Calculating quickly the rate of the encounter's resolution, Viridel nods, realizing in truth that he did not predict in vain, radiating the power of prophecy to the chaos.
Viridel makes a brief and quick symbol with his fingers, briefly drawing the elven rune for Slow, targeting all his foes in the room.
Move up as a move action.
Viridel casts Slow. All targets must succeed on a DC 22 Will save or be slowed.
Viridel also casts Cold Ice Strike on any lingering foes as a swift action, tryng to catch as many enemies up in the same line as possible.
Laree sees the incoming foe bring its large form down upon her. She being a petite, lightweight woman in robes, one would think she doomed, but the alchemist is nimble on her feet.
A quick moment later, the alchemist angles a few of the bombs she has made and gives a quick pitcher's glance to her allies, then begins to pummel her enemy. While perhaps unexpected to both the erinys near her as well as Nagxiv, who is focused on their backline, she tosses a series near his feet that erupt in a cacophony of force and explosive noise upwards into his abdomen.
--------------
Elann readies a potion and her healing bombs in case someone is in desperate need of healing. She also steps back from her master who has inched toward her.
[dice=Bleed]2d6
Bayard feels his wounds begin to knit back together, and knows the likely source, though he doesn't bother wasting time by checking. Instead, he flicks his wrist, dropping his dagger from its spring-loaded wrist sheathe. Then he proceeds to try and finish Chyvvom off.
[dice=Attack]1d20+24-3
[dice=Damage, P/S]1d4+19+2[dice=Attack]1d20+24-3
[dice=Damage, P/S]1d4+19+2[dice=Attack]1d20+19-3
[dice=Damage, P/S]1d4+19+2[dice=Attack]1d20+14-3
[dice=Damage, P/S]1d4+19+2
Grymwold bashes Nagxiv over the head with his shield, sending the him sprawling back. The nimble devil manages to avoid two of the following throws, but two others break away spines and fracture bones as they land. Laree's bombs take him by completely surprise, further battering his body with bursts of magical force.
As Viridel reads his first incantation, both the bow-wielding erinys on the balcony above and Nagxiv begin to move with noticeable sluggishness, though Chyvvom brushes off the spell without much effort. The diviner's conjured slivers of ice nearly bring down Nagxiv, who—despite bing slowed down by Viridel's magic—manages to avoid some of the flurry. Even so, only his fiendish endurance to cold temperatures keeps him standing.
His movement restricted by the slithering contracts, Bayard stabs at Chyvvom with his dagger. This proves much less effective than his primary weapon, his strikes failing to find purchase as they are pushed aside by supernaturally tough parchment or simply glance off the devil's hide or magical force-fields.
"What is a headsman without his axe?" he sneers through his bloodied fangs. "Just another mortal."
The phistophilus momentarily loosens his grip, only to strike again with his whip-like contracts and curving back-horns.
Slowed down by Viridel's magic, the bow-wielding erinys takes one cumbersome shot at Laree. The other fury tugs on the rope attaching her to Laree, attempting to herd the quarry into her longsword. However, the alchemist's many protections keep her safe from harm, even if the first swing is worryingly close.
With a desperate shriek, Nagxiv, even in his near-dead state, manages to launch himself at Viridel. Sluggish as he is, the devil is still faster than most mortals. He manages to catch the wizard with his claws, and Viridel finds himself drawn into a barbed embrace.
Grymwold 5fts forward and bashes the barbed devil away from the mage
Git off him scum
Melee, 2handed, Flurry-2
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Bull Rush +4 vs CMD
Viridel grapples with the devil, his frail build finally coming in to tax him.
"Damned fiend," Viridel spat, hair scattered. He rises to the air, stoically refocusing on his task despite the puncture wounds he suffered.
"This is the culmination of your legacy, Axeman," Viridel cries out, weaving a powerful compulsion on Bayard, imbuing him with a sense of grand destiny.
Seeing her allies grow slightly wounded, Anethra weaves her fingers in the air and unleashes a spell that requires not touch.
As Bayard continues to bleed, he quickly taps himself, delivering a measure of healing energy to the worst of his wounds.
Bayard snarls and keeps attacking Chyvvom, mixing stabs and punches to try to finish the devil off.
As he does so, he calls out "Someone throw me my bloody axe!"
Focused on grappling with Viridel, Nagxiv cannot avoid the oncoming Shieldstorm. The hamatula is thrown back and off balance, allowing Grymwold to finish him with another throw to the head. He wheels around from the strength of the blow and then crumples on the floor.
"Un... fair..." he gargles as his spirit is reabsorbed by Belzeragna.
Bayard is imbued with Viridel's prognostication and his bleeding wounds are mended by a commingling of Dammerich and Asmodeus' power. No longer bleeding, the paladin lays down attacks on the phistophilus. Most of them are far off the mark, mere glancing blows, but one stab of his dagger does penetrate deeper—a stroke of luck, or perhaps destiny. For a moment, the great fiend's eyes grow wide with surprise, but then narrow predatorily as a bright red glow burst out of his many wounds.
"I regret to inform you," he says mockingly, his voice growing in strength as his injuries fade away, "that my contract of servitude precludes me from dying while in pursuit of my duties."
Meanwhile, Asniroth flies over to Laree and claws at the erinys' rope with its talons, fraying the entangling strands of hair.
"Elann, go help Bayard with his axe," she commands to her simulacrum. Imbued with haste, she immediately sets off in that direction.
Asniroth flies over and cuts her nearly free without trouble.
"Thank your blessed talons!" she calls out after the familiar.
Now with purpose, she focuses all of her ire upon this erinys who has dared to bind her. He may seem agile, and perhaps ready to attack her, but she is hardy and will endure to make sure his body is consumed in the violence of her anger.
"You should have taken a lesson from Nagxiv and how badly your boss just got smacked down and you should have just ran..."
With that, she throws her bombs into the chest of this erinys.
----------------------------------------
Elann will hear her master's command, and although it is in the path of danger, she feels no fear within her. She almost mindlessly obeys, running around the edge of the portal and until she gets under the two forces colliding above her (where I'm assuming the axe is). There, she picks up the weapon and throws it up toward Bayard.
Laree's bombs shatter bone and tear muscle, bringing the erinys to her knees. All the way until the end her darkly angelic face set into a grim determination and seething anger, and with her last breath the Fury curses her killer—escape does not even seem to have crossed her mind.
Elann makes her way to Bayard's axe, looking up at the mass of writhing parchments binding its owner. He might be able to grasp the weapon in one hand, but there is no way for the paladin to swing his axe while so entangled.
The remaining erinys rages at the demise of her sister-in-arms. She drops her bow, draws her sword, throws herself off the balcony and flies across towards Laree, who can feel her wrathful cries of vengeance chill her to the bone.
Chyvvom looks at the deaths of his minions with distaste. He also glances down at Elann, and seems to come to decision. With a flick of his snaking contracts, he throws Bayard into the middle circle. There is another blinding flash, during which the paladin has the sensation of being stretched across a distance, or falling sideways through darkness for an indeterminable amount of time, reappearing in the circle opposite to the one that entrapped Anethra.
The devil begins to float down towards Elann, his contracts menacing the simulacrum like a clutch of serpents. He makes a sweeping motion with his skeletal staff. Simultaneously, all of the doors—both those in the rotunda and further in the hallway—slam closed with a resounding peal.
Upon seeing that Bayard is restrained until cast into the portal, Elann prepares some firebombs and toss one of them at Chyvvom, but more specifically at the contracts he holds so dear. Ths isn't an act of intelligence on her part to consider how it would affect his present state of contractual matters, but rather to negate that which would likely restrain her within moments. While it is clear that the fire won't harm him due to his planar origin and race, the paper is likely highly flammable and will likely burn away with the explosive, licking flames.
Laree can see what is about to happen and instructs her simulacrum.
"Throw the axe in the portal and run away!"
Without question, the snow-borne creature does so, and with the haste she was blessed with, attempts to flee.
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Laree hears the screams rise from the last Erinys as she brings the demise of its sisterkin. At the same time, in preparation for this assault, Laree begins to prepare some bombs but notices her supplies running short . She instead focuses on her alchemical goods. A smokestick is pulled out with swiftness from her side and lit as she runs from the approaching flier to a spot closer to her allies . A fuming burst of yellow smoke fills the area ahead of her as she tosses the smoke stick. A moment later, the alchemist disappears into it; however, with her veil, she is able to see and breathe perfectly.