TC points at the fly and motions everyone to be quiet as they move forwards.
If they can all get within ranged weapon range, they can hit it simultaneously before it even notices them.
... well, it isn't a natural 1. :P
Aerianna gives Cran a grimace, but tightens the mental muscle that douses her flaming aura, and moves as quietly as she can while keeping an eye on the gigantic fly -- which, unfortunately, is not quiet at all, as she runs across a gravel patch that makes her scramble for balance as pebbles and stones shift underfoot.
"Ah. Regnis simply says.
Once again, a desire to impress drives the party to bigger and better heights, including even Regnis himself.
Unluckily for the party's plan, the fly immediately notices the party approaching, and buzzes angrily as it rises up off the side of the wall and moves to engage.
Tart delays until after Regnis, then lets fly with his rock.
Tart's rock strikes the wall next to the fly, clattering to the floor loudly.
The fly quickly makes its way over to Aerianna, and attempts to bite her with its gross looking mandibles.
See? Shields really do have a good use. She keeps hers between herself and the dog-sized fly, stabbing at it with an overhand thrust over the top of the shield. It's a maneuver better done with a spear, but if your opponent is in close contact, the sword will do quite well.
TC takes a step back from the fly and lets another rock fly, smacking the fly in the head.
Regnis fires off his crossbow.
When the bolt misses, he drops it. Obviously his mediocre archery skills were not going to be enough to get them through this. He'd have to move on to utilizing something more effective.
The combined onslaught from the group does in fact finish the fly off, and it falls to the ground, leaving just silence outside the small building shaped from the rock.
The symbol of the hammer attracts your interest once more, now that the danger is past.
Aerianna cleans her blade on the non-gooey parts of the too-large fly's corpse, eyeing the building which, on closer examination, doesn't appear to have fallen from above. She eyes the hammer symbol upon it and guesses, "A smithy? Some god of the forge?"
The etched hammer on the wall is the holy symbol of Torag, the main dwarven deity. Suddenly, the random building carved out of the rock makes a whole lot more sense now.
Dwarves often form their shrines and temples to Torag out of rock in out of the way places like this.
The door into the building lays closed, but there is no obvious lock, and the handles look like they work perfectly fine.
TC reaches out towards the doors, but doesn’t have enough mental dexterity yet to operate the doors from a distance.
Aerianna chews on her lower lip for a moment, thinking. "Oh. Torag, head of the Dwarven gods. Duh." She looks around, then gives her sword another couple of cleaning wipes with a cloth she wears looped through her belt behind her scabbard for just this sort of thing -- a piece of advice given to her some time ago, because otherwise it's 'you have scrub out your scabbard with dried grass and a stick if you're lucky, unpeg it and do it by hand if you're not'. Otherwise your sword gets rusty, and that is an unpleasantry you just do not want. Sheathing the blade, she re-settles her shield, then steps forward to pull the door open.
The door opens easily as Aeri pulls at it, though it does creak and sound dusty, as if no one had used this door in quite some time.
As it opens, it reveals that a stone bench lines the southern wall of this chamber. At the far side of the room, a basin of water sits atop a stone pedastal. A stone door engraved with an image of a hammer stands to the north.
Anevia seems to stumble a bit as her eyes lay upon the fountain and the door, and she speaks up. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my leg is hurting quite a bit more than usual from the long walk, could we rest a moment at this bench?"
Horgus immediately responds, his voice muttering and low.
"She's only slowing us down, perhaps the group should split up?" It's quite obviosu that he means you leave her behind.
Anevia quite obviously does not take this well at all, her retort quick and angry.
"I'm not surprised that a man afraid to acknowledge his own faith wouldn't be moved by a forgotten temple like this one. To be ashamed of one's faith is almost as bad as worshipping demons, is it not?"
Horgus blusters, his face turning a shade of red in anger. "Oh, how ironic to be chided by someone who has been known to consort with thieves. Do you think yourself better than me?"
Anevia falls into a black, silent anger at this as she obviously tries to stop herself from continuing this argument.
TC steps forward between the two townspeople.
”Please Horgus, Anevia. Let us not quarrel. Of course we won’t leave anybody behind and of course we will all reach safety. The fact that we found that camp and this old shrine mean that we didn’t really fall that far and that there must be access to the surface. Please let’s not let old grievances do the demons’ work for them.”
Hopefully, somebody who can actually speak soothingly can take up the gauntlet and take the lead here.
"I agree Horgus, we should split up. Those who are willing to try and fight will go ahead, and those who are not will stay behind, in the dark, until we have cleared a path for them to follow. That way we will not be slowed down by any... dead weight." The dhampir looks Horgus up and down, only a slightly mocking tone heard in his voice. "Unless that is not to your liking? Which of you are ready to fight for your survival?
The dhampir sighs, before glancing at Anevia. "All of this fighting has tired me. I must rest for a short while to regain my strength. Anyone who wants to continue without me is welcome to do so. I'm sure I will catch back up."
Regnis takes a seat upon the ground, and tells Khara, his scorpion to go scout ahead. Carefully.
"Does it matter, Master Horgus?" Aerianna asks, turning as Anevia stumbles, to help her and the sightless Aravishnial to the bench. "Rest, for a time," she murmurs to Anevia, then stands and stretches herself a little bit, eyeing the basin before retrieving her waterskin and handing it to Anevia. "Each of you, half a mouthful, no more."
She moves towards the basin of water, to bend over and smell it -- she knows little about nature and its possibilities, but a certain amount of healing is knowing what makes you healthy, and what makes you sick. If it smells all right, she'll murmur a prayer to Torag, asking His forgiveness in this time of difficulty, then dip a finger into the water to taste whether it's brackish, bad, or -- hopefully -- good to drink.
"But to answer your question, Master Horgus, of course you are better than her -- in some things. As she is no doubt better than you in others. More valued to the gods? Once again, of course some are more valued by one god or another, sacred or profane; the priests and clerics are undoubtedly cherished more, and also have more demanded of them, by the gods whose power they channel." She sounds philosophical about the idea. "I think that perhaps only Pharasma values all souls exactly the same, even those who act as her hands in the living world. The rest of the gods certainly play favorites, neh?" A moment of humor in her theology.
"But thief or merchant, worshipper of demon or empyreal or shying away from public admittance to what is in your heart, we are all judged by Pharasma on the intentions and deeds of our lives, and sent to where those deeds and the intentions that drove them will, in their fullest flower, form the outer expression of our inner selves -- we may conceal it from those with whom we live, but in the Beyond, it will be there for all to see and know."
Aeri returns to check on Anevia's leg and the splinting. "Mistress Anevia, the most holy man I've ever known was a farmer's hand, simple in mind, who sang hymns nearly every moment he was awake. Not the best voice, but -- being around his obvious and, at times, oblivious joy made nearly everyone else feel a touch or two better, even if nobody could figure out which god he followed, for he happily caroled any hymn he'd ever heard. Could not lace his boots on his own, but a song to a god? Oh, he was a master at that. And Master Horgus," she adds, retying a binding that had worked a little too loose, "being a thief does not make you evil -- or even bad -- if your actions ease the suffering of others, or are otherwise in the furtherance of some good, would you not say? Are there not those who would call you, successful deal-maker that you are, a cutthroat pirate and ruthless thief, only because they were on the less-wise end of a trade you made? Were you penniless and starving, would you not steal an apple, a loaf of bread, to nourish yourself for the night? Or do so for your wife or child, your sibling or parent, were they in that situation?"
She finishes the fixing, then stands once more. "We are crusaders; we stay together, and only death will keep me from seeing each of you," and here she fixes her gaze first on Anevia, then on Horgus, "back to the surface. My death or your own. You are crusaders, and whatever your issues before Terendelev's death, by Iomedae you will keep a civil tongue in your head and support your fellow crusaders as you have heretofore done -- even, no especially, if you feel you have been done ill by them in the past. If you wish, you may speak to me in private of what issues you have with the others, and though I am not a confessor, I will try to advise you as best I can. But stop trying to plant verbal daggers in each other's spines; would that I could clear the air between you now, but until we have Gozreh's sky above us and not while we are all but entombed, let us be courteous to those by whom you feel injured, and lend your support -- like the crusaders you are."
Not sure if I can use Healing to check to see if the water is potable, but in case I can:
And for getting some rough diplomacy (not /quite/ intimidation ...) between the two (and not sure if Cran's roll gives me a bonus ...)
Horgus is obviously not happy with Aerianna's words, but they seem to have had some impact on him. He settles back, his anger subsiding for now.
Anevia, too, seems quieter and more reflective on some inner brooding than focusing on her quarrel with Horgus. Something happened between these two, that much is certain, but for now both of them have apparently agreed to put it past them and work together to get out of these present circumstances.
"I suppose your words speak true, fair lady.' Horgus mutters under his breath.
"Well spoken." Anevia agrees, nodding even as she winces in pain.
At first glance, Aeri sees the fountain full of a stale grey water. But after her prayer to the dwarven god that this holy site used was dedicated to, the fountain now looks to be filled with a pure clear liquid. Upon closer inspection, Aeri thinks she could get two full vials of holy water out of the basin if she had something to put it in.
Aravashnial takes this opportunity to speak up, having been silent on many matters for quite some time.
"I can sense the troubled waters between the two of you, and although I do not know the full story of either of you, what I can say for certainty is that we need each other more so than ever. I know what has happened above on the surface is beyond any imagining, but I also know that we have powerful allies both down here in each other and above. Let us make do with what we have for now and work on the rest later."
”I have four water skins. I could drink one and we could put the holy water in one. You were so clever to think of that.”
"Four!! Well, you are a wealth of riches in a time of drought. By all means, let us empty one -- but by passing it around, to keep back all of our thirsts." Hopefully, Anevia, Aravashnial, and Horgus have already taken some of Aerianna's skinful to keep their mouths moist and bodies steady, but Cran's offer is a good one.
Your three companions did take a small portion of the water form your skin, yes, but they seem elated to discover that there is more water for thr group.
Somehow, surviving in terms of food and water hadnm't come up yet, and it's always a struggle in situations like these to find adequete resources.
"This fountain is a good find." Horgus says, his voice still somewhat sharp from his argument earlier.
Once his waterskin is empty, TC fills it up with holy water from the fountain bowl.
”Shall we look inside? There may be supplies which would be of use to us.”
"It is good to rest and stretch. I think I will provide my own water though. Drinking the water from that fountain may prove hazardous to my heath." As an example, he dips a finger into the water, and then shows the burn to Aeri.
"Yet another aspect in the argument surrounding my status regarding to personage."
Regnis moves towards the door. I don't know if my familiar has returned yet, and if she hasn't he becomes quite agitated.
Aerianna's eyebrows go up as the holy water scalds Regnis. "Well, that's ... unsettling, I admit," she confesses, "but that seems more a matter of heritage than personhood. And your actions in the future ... remain your own."
Regnis’ familiar has returned, so that unease can be put to rest. None of your companions seem to be particularly bothered by him being a dhampir either, although that may just be a trait of your current situation.
After a few moments of actual rest on one of the benches and a drink of water from whichever waterskin is offered to her, Anevia nods and slowly makes her way into a standing position again.
”Let’s get a move on. This temple is down here for a reason, and we should at least check to see what useful aid it may hold.” she says.
Horgus agrees, and in a small sign of mending relations, helps her to her feet.
”A wise idea.”
Aerianna nods agreement, helping the others perform a more thorough search of the temple to Torag, hoping to find ... well, whatever other help there may be for the six who survived.
TC follows close behind.
The door opens slowly as you push it; it's not locked but it definitely hasn't seen any use in some time. The next room reveals a small narrow room with broken stone benches lining either wall. The air is cold and stale and thick layers of dust cover the floor, benchces, and the large altar at the end of the room, reinforcing the fact that no one has been in here in many years.
On one of the benches towards the other end of the obvious sanctuary sits a hooded corpse, obviously a skeleton even from this distance. Its back faces you, as if even in its last moments it was reverent to the end.
"Well that bodes poorly."
As Regnis approaches the altar and the magical signals that he sensed, his eyes were not sharp enough to notice that the robed skeleton wasn’t truly dead- or at least is now undead.
The dark eye sockets of the skeleton light up with bright blue orbs and the skeleton lashes out at Regnis with a claw as he passes.
A handful of dust rises up and slams into the undead creature.
Being dust, it does absolutely nothing.
Regnis curses. "This is why I insisted on making sure the other bodies were truly dead."
The creature stands up from the bench and takes another swing at Regnis, and strikes him once more harshly in the chest with a single claw.
Regnis falls to the ground, unconscious. His familiar desperately attempts to channel the powers of the lower planes through him.
Unsurprisingly, scorpions are not very good at first aid.
TC flings some more random debris at the creature, but again misses badly.
"Come get me, you very stupid dead person thing," he calls out, then backs up to draw the creature away from Regnis.
"Hold on Regnis!" Tessaviri cried out as she saw her ally go down to the skeleton's claws. Curing his wounds would be too dangerous with the skeleton standing over him.
This skeleton isn't a run of the mill skeleton, it's actually a huecuva, a malevolent undead that is formed when a priest forsakes his rites and turns his back on his god before their untimely death, usually at their own hands.
Tessa's pair of attacks, from herself and the wolf, miss the huecuva's form, and it cries out in anger and in need of retaliation.
TC spots a bit of rubble in one corner and has it whip through the air at the creature. It seems that he’s missing the sun too much and is feeling drained.
The cursed former priest claws out once more at the nearest threat, the wolf currently in his face.
His claws miss wildly, however, sparing the wolf for now.
TC finds a small stone tablet still bearing writing in glory to Torag, lying beneath a stone bench. He picks it up and hurls it with his mind, striking true and hard.
"Hang in there, Regnis!" Tessaviri called out. They needed to end this quickly.
Stable at -3
TC's tablet smacks the skeleton head on, neatly disassembling the bones that make up its body and they clatter across the floor in a loud racket that seems out of place in such a former holy place.
Finally, the abomination against his own religion is dead, permanently this time. The chapel is quiet once more, minus whatever sounds the group makes.
TC rushed over to their fallen comrade, and is relieved to see him still breathing. ”Tessa, can you make the glowy circle of healing light come again?”