Ana grits her teeth, body tense and hunched as she waited for the spells of protection to come out. She did not dare move, as she was as stealthy as a bull. When everyone was ready she took a steeling breath and then gave a loud shout. Shield up and charging the barricade.
In a similar position as Anastasia, Angahaar stays still, greatsword at the ready.
When she charges, he follows suit and bellows, ”Waybringer guide my blade!”
The two guards are shocked to see the group, seemingly not actually expecting to see anyone come up from below, let alone your group.
Angahaar charges towards the guard, continuing his mighty bellowing.
Raban is, as a dwarf, unfortunately slow. But Olapa? She was easily twice as fast as him. And so while he begins moving forward, he commands her to advance and attack.
"Olapa! Washambulie!"
If you are able to take only a standard action on your turn, you can still charge, but you are only allowed to move up to your speed (instead of up to double your speed)
The tigress growls, leaning back on her haunches before striding powerfully forward, her jaws snapping at the closest mongrelman. Raban follows behind her and Angahaar. With a bellow like that, the rest of the people beyond probably knew they were here by now.
Elise just moves forward!
Olapa's ferocious bite unfortunately goes wide, barely missing the surprised mongrel.
"This almost feels unfair," says Elise as the party ambushes the enemy quite effectively with their battle charge. She begins to assault the mind of the farther away enemy guard.
"They do not deserve fair!" Anastasia angrily remarks as she moves up toward the barrier. Coming up on Olapa's flank she swings her warhammer out before bringing it in a horizontal arc at the would be defender. Trying to give him no chance to sidestep her blow.
Closing the distance between himself and the enemy, Angahaar brings his greatsword to bear in a swift and merciless swing at the archer.
"May you beg forgiveness in Pharasma's court, for I have none to offer!"
Anastasia's blow misses quite widely, but Angahaar's violent fury is unleashed upon the mongrel, and he cleanly cuts her nearly in half before she can even react. She falls to the floor, dead instantly.
The other mongrel cries out in terror and drops his weapons before falling to the floor, wimpering.
"Please don't kill me...." he begs, his eyes locked to the corpse of his companion. "I don't want to die!"
Angahaar sheathes his blade.
”Very well. I give you this one chance for mercy. Lay down your weapons and repent. You will not have another chance.”
As Angahaar orders the mongrel to surrender, Elise quickly moves ahead in case any other foes might be quietly fleeing from their initial onslaught.
The mongrel eagerly points to his crude sword on the ground in front of him, before starting and seeming to remember the bow slung across his back. He quickly pulls that off and drops it to the ground.
"I swear, I didn't want this. Everything was fine until that newcomer came and messed the tribe up. Our former chieftain..."
With a quick word to Olapa to stand down, the tigress retreats.
"How many others think like you and would stand down if given the option?" Raban asks. "And who is the newcomer?"
"Explain quickly!" adds Elise, as she confirms that no immediate threats are at hand.
The mongrel is clearly scared, and takes a few moments to calm his breaths and gather his thoughts.
"Hosilla. Real tough lady, bull worshipper. She showed up a few days before the attack and sacrificed the old tribe leader to get our attention, has been here ever since. As for how many would think like I do? Not many, likely. I...we were sent this far away from the center of the lair to keep us away I think."
Raban begins murmuring under the mask, drawing a small circle in the air. If the fallen mongrelman could be saved, her deep wounds are stanched.
"Thank you for being forthcoming," Raban says. "Take your friend and go back to Neathholm. Beg forgiveness. And if you care for those taken in by Hosilla, pray that you are wrong about them."
"I shall give them one chance for mercy. Then their fate will be up to the judgement of the afterlife."
"A bull? Must be a cultist of Baphomet, not the first sign of them we've seen," she mentions.
"Baphomet would make sense," Raban agrees with a nod. The dead cultists found the day before had shown such livery. "Let's prioritize attacks on those openly showing such profane symbols."
Raban looks compassionately at the young mongrel caught up in this mess, though Olapa still growls low.
"Let's keep moving. Quietly if we can."
"Onward! Time to destroy these cultists, and hope the rest will lay down arms."
Elise is hardly quiet, but at least has the benefit of not wearing noisy armor.
Anastasia favors the rest of the group with a rueful smile. She puts her shield away so she doesn't risk catching it on her armor or a cave wall. Walking as carefully as she could. Sadly, she knew she wasn't known for being quiet. She glances back at Elise and Raban with an apologetic look.
The mongrel quickly takes his grieviously injured friend back towards Nealthholm, and the door stands in front of you.
Opening it immediately releases the lingering smells of cooked meat and rank bodies into the tunnel air. Ten bedrolls, each piled with coarse blankets and animal furs, surround a fire pit filled with glowing goals. Tanned hides hang stretched on the walls, each crudely painted with scenes of deformed humanoids hunting giant vermin in caves.
It appears as if your quick assault on the guards at the door hasn't been noticed, as two mongrelmen appear to be sleeping on two of the bedrolls in the center of this cavern. Two doors are on the east wall, and one is in the north.
Raban looks at the others as the doors are pushed open and holds his fingers up to the mouth of his mask as if to indicate quiet. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a bundle of rope and a cloth. Then he begins creeping towards the closest sleeping mongrelman.
Don't wake up and you don't have to die, he thinks.
Though she was still a cub, Raban had observed Olapa growing into her prowling creep. With near supernatural grace, the dwarf ekes forward and readies himself to fall on the sleeping form to silence and restrain them.
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Angahaar was not from a family that valued stealth. Hell, the blood of the mighty dragon that coursed through his veins and filled his head with pounding righteous anger made is an effort in all the restraint he has to stay quiet.
And yet he does.
Damn near perfectly.
Elise preferred wrestling with her foes' minds than their bodies, but she dutifully creeps up, ready to help subdue one of the sleeping guards.
The two mongrels are sound asleep, and don't stir even as you enter the room and creep closer.
As the others move to tie the mongrelmen Anastasia stands stock still. Her body entirely too rigid as she tries her damndest to simply remain quiet. Even her breathing becomes shallow until the enemies are finally tied and restrained. Once the party succeeds she manages to exhale and relax. Her armor shifting as she did so.
Raban holds up a hand with all five fingers extended, making sure that he has the attention of the others. He silently gathers them all to his gaze, nods down, and then establishes a rhythm with his hand. One by one, the fingers go down until he reaches one, and the party dives onto the mongrelmen with cloth gags and rope. There is some anticipated struggle, but it seems that the plan to sneak and deal with the sleepers quietly had worked. For now at least. Raban ensures that their weapons are removed and put far away from them. Their hands and feet were both bound, with the best knots that the group could muster. After feeling comfortable that they are secure, Raban breaks the silence and whispers.
[smaller]"We are here for Hosilla: not you. We want the tribespeople of Neatholm to reunite. I do not want to harm either of you. If we think we can trust you, we'd like to offer you a choice: joining with us to oppose Hosilla and her demon worship or returning to Neatholm to avoid this fight. Do you understand?"
Raban's words are enough to seemingly convince the mongrelmen to listen to him, and they seem as willing as the first one to abandon the cause they had been serving so recently.
Apparently the ones at the edge of the lair weren't as loyal as this "Hosilla" wanted them to be, and these two will leave as soon as you let them.
There are three doors that lead out of this makeshift bed chamber, as depicted on the map.
Raban is pleased that their tactics seem to be working to defuse the situation so far. As long as the others don't object, he ensures that the mongrelmen are stripped of their weapons and armor and released, sent on their way to return to their erstwhile home.
Then Raban looks around the chamber. "I know that your people," Raban refers to the others, meaning Avistani writ large, "often refer to what you call 'clockwise.' In the Mwangi Expanse we have different terms for our systematic exploration, but they would have little meaning to you. But we could begin to the North and work our way through."
"If only it were so easy to convince most demon followers to give up their ways." Anastasia snarks before giving a glance to each door. Deciding it was worthwhile to try and gauge each door rather than pick one at random, she would approach each and cast her eye over it. She was looking for any hints she could gleam based on the construction materials and quality of each door. Even something as simple as a sturdier lock might help them make an informed decision.
"I usually pick a direction and take everything from that point." Ana explains softly as she looks over each door carefully, "Always left and go from there, or always from the right if I'm feeling spicy."
The northern most door appears to be locked, actually, and doesn't open when you do attempt to open it. The next door, clockwise, seems to see quite frequent use and is well worn, and you can smell cooking meat coming from it. The southern most door, however, seems to be the most ornate and well decorated. Relatively, anyway.
"Aha," Raban says after trying the first door. "Locked. And I have not trained to pick locks."
With the nicest door towards the south, Raban looks at Anastasia and chuckles. "Does this make you feel spicy?"
Anastasia slowly shook her head. "The middle door." she noted, "Has the smell of meat cooking. We might be able to catch more unawares. Maybe."
Following the tact the party has used so far she draws up to the door as quietly as she was able and tested the handle. With her shield out and her warhammer raised, she smiled at the passing thought of the chef hearing her and opening the door only to find a hammer to the face.
A rack of hooks hangs from the ceiling, cured slabs of meat dangling from them and filling the room with a smoky aroma. A group of barrels appears to hold other preserved foodstuffs. The meat hanging here appears to be primarily dire rat and mongrel meat—it’s all stringy, over-salted, and fairly unappetizing.
Unfortunately for Ana, there is no cook to surprise in this room. Instead, what looks like an oversized lizard is waiting behind the door to surprise her! Luckily her wits are still about her, and she gets the chance to act before it strikes.
Ana blinks in surprise as she tests the handle and the door simply slips open. Mentally cursing her clumsiness she gives a quick glance around the room before spotting the lizard.
"Oh heck." she cries before slamming it back closed and holding it that way in case it would come open again, "Big lizard. Big lizard and hanging meat." The women pressed into the door and held on for dear life.
Raban looks back towards Lann as Anastasia closes the door. "Do you tend to keep lizards as pets or guards?" He nods sagely. "I prefer not to harm innocents, especially pets, unless it is unavoidable."
Waiting for a bit to see if the lizard beyond can figure out how to open doors, Raban glances once more to the southern door. "Feeling spicy now?"
"Seems like we should NOT go in there!" concludes Elise, as the door is both opened and slammed shut before she manages to react. "Try our hand at another?"
Anastasia blushes at Elise's conclusion. After a moment she is satisfied enough to lift herself from her position, no longer braced to the door.
"Well it seemed like the most used door." Anastasia reasons, "I feel like I was lied to." Looking to Raban she shrugs. "I kind of want to try and open the locked door, but let's give your suggestion a try."
She moves over to the southern door, taking up a ready position and nodding to the dwarf.
Luckily for you, the lizard cannot open doors, and it remains closed.
The next chosen door opens easily enough, revealing the next room in this lair. In the southwestern part of this room, stout stone chairs surround a block of larger stone that serves as a table. The table’s top strewn with bone dice and cracked clay jugs. Stained canvas pillows rest on the chairs. A copper bowl filled with coals hangs from the ceiling, filling the room with warmth and an orange glow.
Standing inside the room is a blue-skinned mongrel with several spider legs poking out from her back underneath her cloak. This matches the description of the turned mongrel, Wenduag. A bow in her hand is aimed at the door, and as Raban pushes the door open, she looses an arrow towards him. "Die, interlopers! she calls out.
The arrow hits Raban squarely, surprising him quite a bit.
Two lightly armored humans stand in front of the door, one armed with a scythe and the other armed with a glaive.
Raban's eyes widen as an arrow streaks its way past his usual defenses. But the sudden missile crumbles into powder as it meets Aravashnial's spell. It's a surprise, but not one that causes any actual pain. That won't last long, though.
"Wenduag!" he cries. "We have met your friend Lann. There are many like him who still want you to come home to Neathholm. Abandon Hosilla and go home!"
The halcyon druid has little of the same respect for the cultists, however. They had made their choice, and they would reap their just rewards.
"Olapa! Washambulie!"
The tiger runs into the room and skirts around the scythe-wielding cultist, rearing back and plunging her teeth into the cultist's leg.
Raban then looks at the scythe-wielding cultist for weak points in the armor , steps forward, and swings his warhammer.
---
"Abandon Hosilla? She offers power, for those who have the strength to take it. What can you offer me?" Wenduag answers, seemingly frustrated at her arrow not working.
Raban manages to strike the scythe cultist with his warhammer, and she cries out in pain. But she doesn't fall, and strikes back at the dwarf in anger.
The cultist of Baphomet, behind the cultist with the scythe, takes a step back and swings at the tiger attacking her partner.
"Fools! You forfeit not only your lives but your souls." Elise moves up a bit more and assaults the mind of the cultist.
Ana will shove her way forward toward the cultist with the scythe, trying to finish her off. Her features screwed up in anger. "This is the fate of cultists!" she screams, seemingly uncaring about redemption. She bring her hammer up from behind her hip, trying to bring in a brutal strike under the cultist's raised arm.
The cultist resists Elise's magic, but cries out in extreme pain as Ana slams her hammer into her. It doesn't bring her down, but she does not look that great, overall.