Absalom. Surely there is no place like it in the entire world. Here, cries and yells in a dozen languages fill the air as people from every area imaginable press and flow and mingle through the city's many districts like the lifeblood of some monstrous creature. Within these walls, right alongside the people that fill them, dwell life, death, liberty, tyranny, love, anger, war, poverty, wealth, and-most important' of all-opportunity.
It has been a good day so far. You have artist gathering in the temples courtyard intent on getting some sketches in, with you as one of the subjects of their hopeful masterpieces. Out of the way a young child with curly red hair sits before an older priest and practices notes on a lyre. The potential is there are the music is soothing.
There is a young woman moving towards the courtyard, you know the type by the bright blue vest, someone who runs messages across the city. You also recognize the dumbfounded look on her face that stands out among the painters who focus on you in a different way. A way with awe but still focused in the way most artists stare at anything that catches their attention.
When your time is done and the artists gather up their things that you spy that young running walking towards you, having waited around for the last hour. Red faced and stumbling over her words, ”Exc.. Excuse me. You are Miss Valtyra Harakore, right?”
Shifting self-consciously on her feet while waiting for you to confirm you are who she is looking for. Holding out a letter, ” Umm. This is for you. Have a wonderful day.” Quickly shuffling off but sneaking a not so sneaky glance back at you.
Hello my dear, I do hope the day is treating you well. I was hoping you might be willing to join me and hopefully a few others for an early dinner. Not only do I simply enjoy your company I would love to discuss a possible trip. As I have a tip on something old and hopefully interesting.
Looking forward to dinning with you
- Yours always, Asheron Coyl
p.s. the address is 11 Vermillion Way in the Ivy District. I was not sure if you remembered as it has been awhile.
It might be brighter on the surface but staying within the city has its perks. Sleeping in late, the food, the drinks, getting paid, ect. The looks you are not ideal but its not a severe as it would be in other cities. Though in the few months you have been working here you have not seen another Duergar. But all things considered that isn’t so bad a thing. Depending on the district the stares can be easily ignored, and the whispers are quiet.
But you have a payment coming up. You are pretty sure that bust is something Asheron is going to like. He does pay for first offer with statues. Bit of a walk to get there but he is almost always home and has said to come by whenever. He might be interested in the gems and jewelry too, save you having to wonder around.
Off to the Ivy District and the people with too much money. Those with even more arrogance than coin. Asheron isn’t that young for a human, so you do need to show up before it gets dark though.
The sun is shining, and you are heading back to where you are living for the time being. Had a wonderful lunch with someone who is wanting you to do some appraising on some coinage they had acquired. And frankly the chance to look at anything from a lost civilization is always tempting. And he was hopping to verify that the coins and a few pieces of jewelry were from ancient Azlant. You have a date to start that later next week.
A youth come walking up to you, the bright blue vest marks him as a runner. Pretty sure you have seen this one before. Ezil smiles at you, ”Hello monsieur Markan, I have a letter for you today. Glad I found you so easy. Saves me some time.”
Holding out a letter in their pale hand. Soon as you take it Ezil is quick to head off to get collect more letters to deliver.
Telias, my friend, how would you like to join me for an early dinner at my townhouse, 11 Vermillion Way in the Ivy District. I potentially have a job for you later on. I am hoping to get an expedition started up and I would like to talk to you about it. Either the helping me go over whatever is brought back or perhaps stretching your legs a bit.
Until then my friend,
Asheron Coyl
Things have been pleasant and easy for the last few weeks. Between working with the few apprentices you have at the moment and your own projects. You just finished five landscapes for Sendeli Foxglove’s restaurant.
This is the second time you spotted that halfling in the bright blue runners vest pass infront of Atelier Vertu. The frustrated look on their face its clear they realized they had past where they need to be. Jogging up to the door and almost knocking before it occurs t them that this is a business, and they are supposed to just come in.
Looking around inside and noticing you quickly, ”Hi! I have a letter for Gemariah Morgethai. That you?” Once confirmed that is you they hold out the letter.
Greetings Gemariah Morgethai
I would like to invite you to an early dinner. I am hoping to obtain your services and likely some of your knowledge. Please join me at my townhouse, 11 Vermillion Way in the Ivy District. I look forward to your arrival and company.
Until then, farewell
- Asheron Coyl
Ivy district is not your normal hangout spot. Bunch of nobles and artists, most of them very arrogant. But you can go to a meeting and probably an adventure. She deserves a break. And maybe some traveling would be nice.
The address 11 Vermillion Way in the Ivy District is on a folded paper in your pocket. A long walk is always nice and she said this Coyl guy is an old friend of hers.
Telias was the first to admit he wasn't much of an appraiser. That which he studies was considered priceless. So the idea of disappointing an old adventurer by not giving him the price of the coinage was not something he reliahed. That wasn't the point. Still free lunch was free lunch and an opportunity to teach. Azlanti coinage was rare, made rarer that the places its usually kept are typically home to the nastiest magical traps that foul empire could devise.
Now Asheron Coyl was different. Here was a man who jad a habit of picking up odd things in odd places. Things with more novelty than history. Or at least the kind of history many would have rather remained unforgotten. He still remembered the Urgathoan sculpture he showed him one night he said smuggled out of Ustalav. It depicted one of their rites and Telias understood at once why many felt so attracted to that particular goddess, and repulsed. Not an object fit for a gallery or common decency.
His enthusiasm was both infectious and incredibly dangerous. Which is why Telias found himself turning away from his previous destination of a nice little cafe to flirt with a particularly likable Varisan hostess to Asherons manor. Whether or not this enthusiam took him to some dusty haunted cellar or clad in some incredibly uncomfortable ZonKuthoan cultist gear to retrieve some relic of his goddess he at least wanted to hear him out. Thankfully his mansion wasn't far and before long he was there hoping he had left enough room for dinner and potential for death.
Gabrielle sat at his desk, tinkering on his right arm. He was frustrated, he understood the clockwork parts, those he could replicate, had replicated, mostly. Yet, the liquid bronze like sections baffled him still... perhaps he would never understand its secrets. Whatever the material was, it was connected to his shoulder like any normal arm would be.
He lets out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and pulling his hat over his face. After several long moments he lifts his hat a hair, peeking one eye out from under the hat, looking at the letter he had received currently resting on his desk.
Coyl huh...
He lets out another sigh, gathering up his tools and work as he does.
Welp, suppose I should be heading that way. Wonder what all this is gonna be about.
He gathers his equipment and gives a glance at himself in a bronze disk. He frowns, before halfheartedly cleaning at a few splotches on his clothes before giving a shrug and walking outside. He does pause, before grabbing up a piece of his work, a bronze sparrow he had made. If you wound it, it played a sound similar to songbirds
A Gallery may find this interesting.
He walked around the front of his home, his boots sounding off on the hard stone before stopping and untying Gear, his companion and steed.
Easy there, just going for a walk today, but we gotta look our best to impress them noble folks.
He glances down to horses front leg, similar to him, it was mechanical. Though, unlike his "gift", Gear's leg was purely clockwork and mundane metal. Designed and built by Gabrielle to save the poor horse after it had broken its leg. The owner was going to "cut his losses" on the race horse.
Gonna have to check your leg, sos jus' bear with me bit yeah?
After running a quite maintenance check, he gives a nod and a smile.
Welp, looks good as the day I made it... I promise, I'm trying to figure out how ta' make it look like mine, I know ya don't like the gears showin'. He gives a smile to himself before setting the saddle up and loading up the saddle bags, filled to the brim with a mixture of random tools, materials, and equipment with a small section dedicated to treats and things for Gear.
Welp, s'pose its time to be headin' out. He says to himself as he saddles up and guides Gear toward the street.
------- At the manor
Looking around, Gabrielle gives a long whistle.
Well, quite the swanky place. Wonder what folk see in some of this stuff. He looks around a little more, spying a group of noble types walking past and giving him a few stares. He smiles and tips his hat to them as they hurry past.
wonder how their scales are like. he mutters to himself, refitting his hat back in its proper place.
Looking back at the manor and the gate as he waits to be shown in, he wonders to himself.
I get the feeling, I'm gonna see more food tonight then I normally eat in a week.
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Enjoying the beautiful day as she models for the gathered artists, Valtyra can’t quite completely suppress the hint of a smile that crosses her full lips as she notices, the messenger’s rapt gaze. No matter how used to the reaction one would expect her to be by now, she always enjoyed it, feeling honored to inspire some semblance of emotional response. The flush in the young woman’s cheeks as she hands her the vellum was a clear sign of that.
”Thank you,” the wardancer replies with a dazzling smile, as she accepts the missive, ”You have a wonderful day as well.”
Catching the less-than-sly glance back she gives an extra grin for the girl’s benefit, before looking down at the letter. Smiling as she reads it to herself, her friend’s script artful and elegant as always, Valtyra grins at the thought of what might have caught Asheron’s attention this time. Excursions for some obscure objet d'art or to transport a newly restored or discovered acquisition were always quite the adventure, with the added bonus of having a sense of sacred duty to Shelyn, bringing another subject of beauty to a place where others could experience it. Getting dressed, she makes her way home, taking the opportunity for a long hot bath and a change of clothing for dinner.
She’d initially thought to wear one of her favorite gowns, but considering the fact that others with whom Asheron shared a professional interest were likely to be in attendance, and not all of them might be close friends, she decided it best to play it professional.
Besides, she’d just had her glaive upgraded with the most beautiful silversheen scrollwork on the blade, from the weaponsmith he’s recommended, and wanted to show him the results. Donning her armor, the mithril breastplate polished to a gleam, she gathers up her other gear, before slipping on her boots and heading out, her signature Shelynite glaive strapped across her back. A denizen of the Ivy District herself, she enjoys the cool evening walk toward Vermillion Way, headed toward Asheron’s home.
As Telias waited after ringing the doorbell his heart couldn't help but skip a beat as a familiar figure came beaming down the street seeming to part all before her. Telias didn't imagine for a moment it was because she was a large heavily armed and armored woman.
When she qas in speaking distance he gave her his most genuine smile and a deep sincere bow.
"Ah, lovely Valtyra, as always the most masterful works of you by the greatest artists in the city are but amateur scribbles compared to the truth. If I had known you were summoned by Asheron I would've done better than to arrive in rough work garments. You are deserving of much greater from me." Telias said flirtatiously.
Atelier Vertu is a spacious, tastefully cluttered studio filled with stacks of books, half-finished restoration projects, alchemical equipment, empty canvases and stretchers, as well as multitude of different brushes and pots filled with various paints—one need not reach far to find a tool, if they are not too picky about its exact specifications. There is plenty of natural light, but also shadowy nooks one could retreat to for a nap.
With the arrival of the runner, Gemariah looks up slowly from his current project: a portrait of Orphyrea Amandar executed in a contemporary Tian style, which bears a nasty tear straight across the face—apparently, the general had run afoul of a ship's cat on her way back to the Inner Sea. While at work, the master wears a paint-stained apron over a loose knee-length tunic, and little else. Without a hurry in the world, he sets down his easel and walks over.
Looking around inside and noticing you quickly, "Hi! I have a letter for Gemariah Morgethai. That you?" Once confirmed that is you they hold out the letter.
"Yes, that would be me," he says with a serene mien, exchanging the letter for a silver weight.
Gently dismissing the halfling, he opens the envelope using a nearby paint knife. He takes his time reading while he wanders through the workshop, checking up on the apprentices as they work and offering guidance as needed. Finally he gets to the end of the missive, and pauses his stroll to think on its contents.
"An early dinner... Yes, why not?"
The meeting is not far, and if he wanted, Gemariah would have plenty of time to finish bridging the tear on General Amandar's face. However, without a deadline to keep, he makes no effort to get back to work. He instead goes upstairs to his quarters and unhurriedly chooses an outfit, brushes his hair, and momentarily loses himself in a spontaneous bit of journalling. Then he picks up his sturdy plant-fibre satchel, which contains his 'field kit,' and heads back down.
As he passes through the atelier proper, the master catches the attention of a senior apprentice of his, a young gnome with a shock of purple hair and a pair of comically human-sized spectacles. "Whimbrel, I might run a bit later than usual—do close up when you are finished."
Stepping out into the hustle and bustle of Absalom, Gemariah takes in a deep breath of the city air with all its pleasant and less palatable fragrances, and he feels immediately energised. The elf chooses a scenic route through several different parks—after all, the abundance of green was one of the main reasons why he chose Ivy District for his new home. On his way he pauses to look at a mighty oak-tree, remembering the day it was planted some decades back. Or was in centuries? There is a group of human children playing in the canopy's shade, dressed in a new style of finery. For a moment he tries to remember the person who planted the tree, but the old gardener is a mere splotch in a whole blur of faces. He gazes at the emerald-leaved elder and the human saplings beneath his boughs for a good while, idly picking through his memories, before the shifting of the shade alerts him to the passing of time.
Without further delays, the master restorer makes his way towards Asheron Coyl's residence.
The streets of the Ivy District swell with the myriad sights and scents of its industry: roadside, florists, and fruit vendors, the wood and polish scent of carpenters' shops, tantalizing aromas waffling from dozens of bakeries, and the heavy oil scent from the palettes of numerous street artists. Meanwhile, hundreds of rich colors give the district an appearance of a holiday festival.
Tiger Lily Avenue gives way to Moss Agate Lane, which in turn meanders into Vermilion Way, and soon the townhouse of Asheron Coyl comes into view, perched on a small rise that over looks the street. A low fence covered in fragrant jasmine vines abuts the street. Agate opens onto a flagstone path thot wends past flower beds, fountains, and sculpted shrubs to the front doors. A bell hangs next to the gate. A sing reads "Please ring bell.
As you all gather at the gate or make your way down the street that bell was rung by Telias. And it is odd that even a minute has pasted without one of Asheron's staff to come put and see who rang the bell. Looking past the manicured lawn towards the house. The door to the townhouse hangs ajar from a single hinge and is covered in bloody smears. Slithering sounds come from inside the house, punctuated by loud thumps and shattering glass.
Seeing this, Gabrielle lets out a sigh.
Ain't nothin' ever simple.
Welp, that there is probable cause if I've ever seen it. Sa'pose its time ta' head in. He spurs Gear up to the door of the townhouse before dismounting with a quick and agile slide off the side, drawing his pisol and buckler as he lands on his feet.
he steps into the building and looks around.
Moving through alleyways and scaling walls when no one was looking moved a short woman in a raggedy grey cloak, her face obscured by much better maintained grey scarf.
Sithe grinned to herself from within the comfort of her enchanted cloak, it's temporary shabbiness doing wonders to avert anyone too curious for their own good's eyes. A duergar she noticed drew attention on the surface, which occasionally had its advantages, whereas having the appearance of being poor made people shun and attempt to unwill you from their vision, like not having coin was some sort of innate moral deviancy that caused nightmares. All the better to let her do her work she thought, Stupid creatures.
While she had gotten over her fear of falling up into and then promptly drowning in the sea above that everyone referred to as this "sky" thing, the obscene exhibitionist others called the "sun" seared its lewdness into her eyes and brain every chance it got, like right now. Though the promise of pay had her giddy having the meeting during the day-ish to accommodate Coyl meant having to put up with that salacious celestial offense to her senses and was already putting her in a foul mood.
Moving to the back of the stronghold, or house was what they called them here? Manor? She approached the back door as she usually did, even though Coyl had asked, repeatedly, for her to come in through the front, but what idiot goes through the front door when there's a perfectly fine and underguarded rear entrance?
"Ah, lovely Valtyra, as always the most masterful works of you by the greatest artists in the city are but amateur scribbles compared to the truth. If I had known you were summoned by Asheron I would've done better than to arrive in rough work garments. You are deserving of much greater from me." Telias said flirtatiously.
Valtyra grins as Telias greets her with his usual charm, the talented archivist and resident rake, as smooth as ever. ”Oh please, Telias, it’s not as if I dressed up. Wasn’t actually sure what to expect tonight. I guessing you received a letter at some point today as w…..”
Her voice trails off as she notices the door hanging off it’s hinge, and the bloodstains a moment later. ”Blind me!” she whispers to herself, immediately drawing Moonrise from across her back and moving to follow the swarthy gunman who was already entering the house, her movements a graceful prowl."C'mon."
Pushing the door open slowly to hopefully avoid startling anyone again. Listening to to figure out where everyone is. But the kitchen is quiet. You wait a beat and hear a thud and something that sounds like it is slithering around. But beyond those noises which is coming from the largest room in the house, just on the other side of the dinning room. Looking though the two archways you don't see anything moving at the moment but you see blood and shattered glass on the ground in that large room.
Peaking in though the open door with is bloody hand print you see stairs in this narrow hallway but there are bloody steaks on the floor leading though the archway. From the doorway you can see part of that room and there is more blood, broken pieces of wood, and shattered glass.
Taking a breath she lets her natural deep magic take hold and vanishes from sight before moving over to investigate the blood.
Telias inwardly cursed as all the potential evening invitations he was considering were washed away by a pool of blood. It briefly occured to him that they should be calling the guard rather than enter the scene of a crime. Briefly.
Mulling over how he was going to salvage the situation he spotted Gemariah coming down the lane and soured even further. The old elfs mind was a treasure trove of history if you were polite and had the time. The second of which he distinctly lacked. Nothing for it then. Better to finish this quickly so he can get on to more fun and less harrowing activities.
"Ah Gemariah good man! Come join us it seems are our host has fallen on hard times or several sharp objects and is either hurt, dead, or playing a tasteless prank. Val and our clockwork stranger friend have already gone a bit ahead. Care to join us?
Without waiting for a response Telias goes through the gate and starts moving towards the door with none of fhe care of thos ahead of him.
Arriving only slightly late to the party, Gemariah nods cordially at Telias—though as ever, it feels as if there is a wide gulf of ineffable distance between the two. Even if he is blessed with celestial blood, the young archivist seemed to be doubly afflicted with the usual frenetic restlessness that defined humankind. At the sight of blood on the door-frame, the elf's vague expression of turns grim.
"As far as I am aware," he muses, "today is not one of those human holidays celebrated with pranks and tomfoolery."
The person with the metal arm he does not know, but assumes he is a guest as well. A man of action, clearly, moving in without hesitation.
Caressing the silver songbird which hangs from his neck, the priest uses his delicate fingers to draw a few lines across his hands and face. With a ripple, his skin takes on the consistency of a painted canvas, with the rough and smooth texture of brush-strokes.
With that done, he moves in after the others.
Two large octopi slither around the wrecked room. Painting have been ripped from the walls and broken, shattered pieces glass and clay are all over the floor, and furniture has been knocked over. The floor has bloody streaks and oddly colored smears across both the floor and the walls.
Gabrielle from where you are you can one of the octopi pull down a painting and rip it apart. Neither seem to have noticed any of you are here in their apparent mission of destruction. One rips a painting off the wall and tears it in half. And the other is trying to rip the arms off of a bloody and limp humanoid, much like a temperamental child pulling a doll apart.
Hearing the carnage as she enters the house, Valtyra calls upon Shelyn's blessing, as a pulse of shimmering light washes over everyone within 50ft of her, filling them with a sense of power and capability.
Weapon in hand she races through the door to be greeted by the thrashing horrors in the living room.
Gemariah moves into the foyer, muttering a brief, formulaic response to Valtyra's blessing. As he crosses the threshold and beholds the iconoclast octopi and the results of their bloody rampage, his brow furrows indignantly.
"This is a travesty!" he declares, mostly at Valtyra. "We need to stop them before they damage more paintings beyond repair—and protect any survivors, of course."
He begins a prayer, reaching into the long, airy library-halls of his mind for the correct litany...
"Artificial beings...?" mutters Gemariah.
He then recites in Celestial a litany exhorting the irreplaceable sacredness of creative expression and its material results, and places an anathema on those who would dare harm the inviolable. The prayer is hardly a Shelynite staple, instead coming off as either apocryphal or altogether heterodox.
Knowledge Arcana
Move: Move into House.
Move: Naturalist: any allies within 30 feet gain a +2 insight bonus to AC and on attack rolls and saving throws against exceptional, supernatural, and spell-like abilities used by creatures of that specific kind of monster.
Telias steps over the bodies and blood frowning in thgought but otherwise not terribly alarmed when he pauses at the door and notices the octopi.
"Paint, golems? Dolls? Either way not alive. Don't bother trying to control their brains. They don't have any.
Bless - +1 morale bonus on attack rolls and on saving throws against fear effects
Prayer - +1 luck bonus on attack rolls, weapon damage rolls, saves, and skill checks / -1 to enemies
+2 insight bonus to AC and on attack rolls and saving throws against exceptional, supernatural, and spell-like abilities used by creatures of that specific kind of monster.
All allies - +4 to att/+3 saves (+4 vs fear)/+1 dam/+1 skill checks
Both massive cephalopods turn towards those at Telias's voice. Dropping the bloody body and the now ruined painting like discarded toys. Both creatures move, more like glide, towards Valtyra. Bot lift a tentacle, in what would be rather dramatic in an artistic sense, but neither is able to touch the warpriestess.
plus
plus
Gabrielle takes a step into the door to get a better view.
That means no need to worry about tryin' to take em alive.
he raises his pistol and his metal arm glows with a soft golden hue before he fires off two shots into the northern creature
What the hell are those? Who the hell are they? WHAT THE F!~$ WAS THAT? Sithe's brain processes in short order as she sees the creatures, then hears the voices, folled the very, VERY loud yet contained explosions going off in the other room.
I should probably leave... but then I won't get paid... and there's other people here getting attacked... they can probably take care of these things... but if I helped them... They will, uh, what would they do? Damnit, I'm going to regret this. Wrestling with her thoughts Sithe saunters closer than she's comfortable with, possibly unknowingly spurred on by the lingering benevolent magic the people currently in combat and not a threat to her hopefully have casted about the room to lift themselves up, drawing her trusty lockpick as she psyched herself up.
Said lockpick being an enchanted adamantine giant sticker. Not subtle, but quite effective at getting through most locks. And most other obstacles.
Unfortunately she remember after the fact that striking removes her rather comfortable invisibility, causing it to fade rapidly.
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Avoiding both tentacles with fluid grace, Valtyra explodes into a frenzy of breathtaking violence, her glaive spinning about her with astonishing quickness, the deadly blade erupting into flame as she strikes.
Bullets fly with a concussive force. The noise causing both octopi to turn towards the noise. Graceful bldes slice into the creature with fresh blood all over its tentacles. The one near the southern door turns to look through the archway.
Each of you are familiar with your weapons and the damage you can do with them. And these blows are not doing the full amount you feel they should. It night be that these things have no soul and thus do not feel anything. Or it might be that paint it truly durable, it does last for centuries after all.
plus
Focusing on Valtyra and lashing out with every tentacle but only able to connect once and it fails to grab the graceful warrior.
plus
plus
The southern octopi glides a little closer to the other but it was just to get a better view though the archway. This one has much better luck. Lashing out with two tentacles, one wraps around a tiny waist and the other wraps around a thigh. Both tentacles lift up.
Watching Valtyras bloody dance at work Telias cant help but feel a bit of excitement and a smaller bit of due caution.
Turning away from that no doubt interesting sight Telias notices the other octopus reaching into the room beyond. "If someone's there it might be a good idea to say something before your pants are ruined!
Well that don't look good. He says as Sithe is lifted from the ground. He will continue to fire at the most harmed creature as he takes a step back.
This time however, there is no glow as the retort and smoke of the firearm fills the room.
Telias will just draw and load his crossbow for now.
Gemariah flinches at the abrupt sound of gunfire, the smell of powder assaulting his sensitive nostrils. The gracefulness of Valtyra's movements is barely more tolerable to his eyes, beauteous as it is—violence simply does not sit well with the elf's peaceable sensibilities.
At least the foes are not living, feeling beings. Gemariah begins another prayer, this time beseeching the goddess for an emissary...
Easily avoiding all but a single tentacle strike, Valtyra continues her deadly dance, her flaming blade slicing at the creature's rubbery flesh as her body shrugs off the toxic effects of its venom.
Tentacles lash out at Valtyra. One wraps around a thigh and around her stomach. The two miss, leaving inky streaks across her armor. One tries for her throat but only manages to slap her throat hard. with that hit to her throat Valtyra goes limp and is dropped. The octopus turns towards the group in the entry way.
The other construct moves though the archway and leaves ink on the wood. The two tentacles squeeze Sithe again.
Valtyra takes blow after blow, her body slumping in the brutal grip of the creature's tentacles, a hair's breadth away from death as her body desperately fights off the virulent toxin.
"Not that kinda lass!" Sithe shouts while wiggling in the tentacle's grasp.
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Well, that ain't good. Time to finish this one.
Once again, he raises his pistol, his arm glowing with the golden bronze hue once again. He fires off a shot before moving closer to the paint monster. You could swear you see a faint translucent image of metal wings for a brief second this time as well but you can't be sure.
Hey, why don't ya pick on someone ya own size! Ya oughta know not ta do that to a lady, ya overgrown calamari!
”What he said! I may be delicate but I taste like charcoal!” Sithe continues as she wiggles and flails.
A single shot rips a wide hole in the octopus's face and the construct's form falls apart. Paint scatters all over the floor.
Tekias lets loose a string of colorful and creative curses as he rushes in after the false octopus is destroyed laying a hand on vals forehead and checking that she still lives at all he muttered some practiced words to stabilize her condition. He frowned deeply at the bruises forming around her throat.
healy on val
Looking about he remarks his eara still ringing from the staccato of gunshots fired indoors. "The woman to the souths still in danger loud and mysterious stranger!"
A sudden rush of air brings Valtyra's inert body to life as Telias' healing energy takes effect, the Shelynite warrior groaning hoarsely in agony as feeling returns to her battered body. Coughing as she sits up, she brings her hand up to her throat, her voice barely above a whisper as she forces air through her recently crushed windpipe.
"Thanks.. gods that thing hits hard." she manages, slowly grabbing her weapon and standing up, her attention drawn first to the body of the monster that felled her, then to the sounds of combat coming from the other room.
Gemariah finishes his prayer, which is answered by a pleasant trill and a bright flash of light, as a magnificent raptor emerges out of nowhere, like a thought that becomes a rough sketch then gets filled out with colour and definition: its plumage is both a shimmery, beetle-shell black and a pure white, and its wattles are a deep shade of crimson. It fiercely assails the remaining octopus with its brazen talons and beak .
The elf moves in after Telias as the young man rushes to aid Valtyra, raising his holy symbol and unleashing Shelyn's restorative energies as a wave of scintillating light and warmth, to cover both her fallen champion as well as the curiously ashen dwarf currently struggling with the artificial monstrosity in the following room.
Moving over the table and swatting at the gilded bird while also lifting Sithe up so her head hits the ceiling. The tentacle around her waist squeezes while lifting her.
Well, I wouldn't say hard miss, jus' a whole lot. Ifn' ya don't mind, I can tend to ya properly once I finish off the last one thats getting frisky with our other friend there.
Gabrielle continues to glow, raising his pistol he takes aim and waits until the creature jerks Sithe out of the way before firing off two resounding shots, aiming for the creatures eye. At this point, he had been channeling so much divine energy the golden hue had begun to coat his entirety.
Telias helps Val to her feet while remarking in his usual style.
"Well, I couldnt allow you to meet your end at the hands of a giant rainbow octopus in someones private home. The gossip papers would run riot over your legacy!"
Seeing as gabrielle has pretty much decimated the octopus Telias elects to simply stand back and let the destruction.continue in earnest.
Tow loud shots ring out and the first rips off a tentacle while the second blows a hole in the center mass. Like the previous one the octopi's form losses shape and collapses into a scattered pile of paint. The house is silent.