Roger attempts to strike down this mutiny, but fails for now... Sirio speaks more sternly.
At Sirio's power-laden spell, Talon's tainted eyes widen with an atavistic dread. He stands trembling, fear seeming to override, at least momentarily, the haze that has hold of him....
Emma's breath gusts out bloody, but she breathes after Hannelia's spell. As of yet, she doesn't wake.
Constantine rushes up to join the fight...
But the goblins aren't done yet. 'Mezzodarath', if that is the hogboblin's name, gazes slit-eyed at Sirio.
"You. Say words. Make him scare? I make YOU scare."
He barks harsh words in the Goblin tongue, words that Constantine can tell are spellcasting-- for what good it does. His form grows and grows, muscles bulging and stretching.... and then he is towering over the battle, his enlarged blade threatening all around him.
The little black-clad goblin sees that the tide is turning and giggles maniacally before rushing in to stab at Roger.
The red-hooded goblin appears-- right behind Constantine, lashing out at him from invisibility! Fortunately, her strike is clumsy and hits his new magical protections with a fizzle and a fttttt.
As for Talon....? He flees. Strangled sobs reach the air as the half-elf simply... runs, his feet kicking up dust in the courtyard as he hurtles himself forth like a meteor.
"Ugh, yes they're words you brute." Sirio scoffs with a bit more bravado than he feels. "Come get me then, creature! he shouts.
He smirks and then shifts into two identical forms standing side by side. "A little motivation for you brute!" He swings his morningstar at the large goblinoid, glowing with unholy light.
Relieved at hearing Emma's breath come rushing back, and keeping a wary eye on the goblin now loitering very close nearby, Hannelia keeps her hands pressed to Emma's chest and once more pours healing magic into her. "Come on Emma, up you get. Your goddess needs you. We need you."
Constant watches Mezzodarath begin to grow and starts to think about copying him before he feels the telltale whoosh of a blade being deflected by the near-invisible shield around him. With barely a thought, the occultist drops his physical shield , grips his sword in both hands, whirls around, and slashes at the offending, red-hooded goblin.
"You'll have to keep big ugly busy for a moment, Sirio!" he cries out. "My opponent has chosen me." He narrows his gaze, towering over the goblin with fury in his eyes.
Roger sticks his foot out to trip Talon, only to see Talon run in a completely different direction. He pauses for a moment, only for a little black goblin to announce his presence and force Roger to jig a little to dodge.
"Aye, I'll give ye something to laugh about, how many goblins does it take to paint a fort?"
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Emma finds herself sitting at a table, staring down at an empty plate. She frowns, feeling confused - how had she gotten here? The place seemed familiar. The scent of a burning woodfire drifted in through the windows, and a faint golden light shone in, though Emma had trouble making sense of anything outside.
A woman approached and began scooping food onto Emma's plate. "Eat up my dear, eat up. You'll need to keep your energy up for what's to come."
Emma glanced up. For a moment, her eyes widened in shock, and her breath faltered. The sight of the woman before her...
It was her mother - and, well, of course, who else would it be? They often ate meals together whenever it was possible. There was no reason that seeing that familiar visage should make her heart skip a beat. Slowly, she lessened her grip on the arms of the chair, frowning. Her mind felt like it was a half second too slow, unable to make the connections it should have.
"What is it? Don't just stare at me like that girl, you look like you've seen a ghost. Eat up, meals are important you know!"
"Thanks," Emma said. It felt strange to talk, like she had cotton in her mouth. She frowned down at the food, at a loss for what else to say. It looked like a serving of some kind of bird, but a tougher kind of meat than usual. Not chicken or turkey. "What...what is this?"
Her mother sat across from her and gazed at her across the table, the familiar twinkling glint in her eye. Something about the situation felt increasingly off. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten here. Or why it felt wrong to have her mother sitting there. Why should it feel odd? This was something they did regularly.
"It's an important meal, Emma. You know this. Meal times are significant. They represent a connection, and we spent many a meal here at this table." Her mother's gaze intensified. "We had both happy and sad moments at this table. Such is life. Lessons come in unexpected forms. We must deal with them as best as we are able. We must adapt as best we can."
"I...I'm so confused. Something about this doesn't feel...right." Emma shook her head. "I was...doing something important."
"Emma. Please listen to me. It wasn't your fault."
Emma wracked her brain, trying to think. Had she messed up in a recent training session? She couldn't think of anything specific. Certainly she'd remember if she'd injured someone or broken something, unless they'd tried to hide it from her. But that didn't seem right either.
She rubbed her face, trying to clear the fog from her mind. "I don't understand."
"What happened to me - it wasn't your fault. There wasn't anything you could have done. Sometimes, things just happen. You have to let it go. It's an unfair burden."
Emma slowly raised her head. A memory pierced through the fog. "You're...dead," she whispered. "You died." Then she glanced down at herself. "Am...am I dead?"
Her mother very deliberately did not answer. Instead, she lowered her gaze to Emma's plate of food. "You should eat. You're going to need your energy."
Emma looked down at the food. "I don't understand." Then, in a very small voice. "Mom?"
"It wasn't your fault sweetheart," her mother repeated in a firm voice. "Let it go."
Confusion met with fear and regret. Still feeling as though she were moving through a fog, she reached down and cut off a piece of the bird. She lifted it up, and glanced at her mom, who nodded encouragingly. Frowning, Emma took a bite.
It tasted bitter and wrong - and a moment later, pain spread through her mouth and she let out a gasp and spit out something hard and sharp. She lifted a hand to her mouth and gasped slightly when she saw it come away wet with blood.
It was a birds talon.
"What...?" she demanded in horror.
"Like I said. Many important lessons, often unexpected. Those talons can be very dangerous, but serve a purpose, as do all things."
Everything began to feel odd, as though the light was becoming brighter. Things were fading, and Emma felt as though she were falling into a void.
"Remember what I told you? The words my father said to me, and his father before him?" her mother asked, voice fading. "I will take responsibility for what I have done...."
"...if I must fall, I will rise each time a better person," Emma finished.
And everything was swallowed by the light.
-----------------
"Come on Emma, up you get. Your goddess needs you. We need you."
Emma's eyes flew open in a sudden rush. Pain shot through her body, followed quickly by the sensation of healing energies. She could see Hannelia standing over her, looking focused on her task. Her memories were fragmented, and her breathing came in short gasps. She remembered the goblins, and remembered seeing Talon...
Talon.
Oh Iomedae, had Talon really shot her? She could still feel a dull ache in her chest. The shock of seeing her former friend staring at her with such hate in his eyes.
"Hannelia!" Emma gasped. She realized quickly that the only reason she was awake at all was because of Hannelia's actions to save her. "Iomedae bless you, you beautifully talented woman!" she gasped out, her mind desiring to move in all directions with no traction. She blinked rapidly, scrambling to make sense of her current situation. "Did we win?" Then she craned her head to see a massive goblin creature of some kind. "Oh gods - never mind, still in the thick of it!"
Closing her eyes, Emma sends out a quick prayer to Iomedae. Oh Inheritor, grant me the strength needed to withstand these evil creatures and keep my friends safe.
The healing energies that swell within aren't as substantial as Emma may have liked, but nevertheless, it would have to do.
Looking back up at the massive...thing...Emma shuddered slightly. That thing would likely pack quite the punch. She would need to brace herself before even attempting to strike at the thing. Gripping her shield tightly, Emma withdraws her body into a defensive position before slowly rising, falling back onto the old teachings from her days back home - funny, something about the thought of home and training sent a warm sensation through her. Odd.
Then, centering her gravity as much as possible, she braces for whatever the large creature may attempt to do in the next few moments.
Roger tries to trip Talon but the half-elf has plans that include Not Being Here. Instead, Roger takes a swipe at his little goblin pest... but misses... yet Roger backpedals to give the hulking bugbear something to focus on, opening him up for Sirio's solid blow with the mace. Bones crack under Siro's strike... yet the bugbear merely snarls contemptuously, and turns to try and strike Emma down as she rises....
Emma's raised shield does exactly what it needs to. She stands, and the tainted bugbear lashes out with his curved, wicked sword... and the Iomedan shield deflects it, the sword painted on the front catching the blade square as if parrying the blow blade-to-blade. Even so, the force nearly rocks Emma back to her knees... but only nearly.
And yet, her own sword reminds on the dusty earth of the courtyard, so close yet so far...
The little goblin also swipes at Emma as she staggers upright.
Emma's focus is all in intercepting that blow from above-- she doesn't see the little goblin til it's too late, and a rusted blade is raking across her thighs. Still, better that strike than the bugbear's.
Giddy with triumph, the little creature tries to attack Emma properly now that she's up.
...but misses wildly.
Mezzodarath looks, not to Emma, but to Sirio, red eyes gazing at the Asmodean imagery, a mocking snarl curling the bestial mouth.
"You serve little hell chief? Little god of rules? Mother knows him. Mother thinks he is weak."
The falchion descends with the force of a meteor. Sirio has only an instant to see it fall ... but it hits the wrong Sirio. The Asmodean's illusory double disappears under the force of a blow that surely would have brought him near to the Bonespire.
Snarling as the trickery is revealed, the bugbear takes an adjusting step back from both Roger and Sirio.
Finally, the red-hood goblin strikes once more at Constantine, while trying to edge around him to work with her leader.
Talon continues to run.... disappearing from sight among narrow stone cliffs.
Relief floods Hannelia as she hears Emma speak, trying to sit up. The paladin adds a little divine healing of her own but her perhaps her prone position means it's not as efficacious as she was hoping for. "It's good to hear your voice. Nobody's won yet," she replies. "If you can stand, mind yourself, I'm not sure I can keep them from striking at you." The warning proves prescient as the bugbear's sword is met by Emma's braced shield, parrying the heavy blow, though the goblin still slips in a darting strike.
With all of the available targets engaged in melee, Hannelia has little choice but to take a careful aim and try to avoid hitting any of her companions. Choosing the largest and most dangerous target, she fires away past Roger directly at the hulking brute.
The hit from the large bugbear is almost enough to knock Emma prone again, but she manages to hold. She's still feeling a bit spacey from her previous injuries, but for the moment, is able to hold her own. It's almost a relief when the bugbear steps away to attack Sirio - though she feels guilty for the thought, and considers it a massive relief when it ends up striking an illusory image instead of the real thing.
Closing her eyes for a moment to center herself, she once again reaches her mind out to Iomedae. Please mighty Iomedae. Give me the strength I need to stand up to these foes, she pleads. Don't let us have come this far only to fall now in the face of such evil.
Much to her relief, the divine energies that swirl within her feel stronger this time. She takes a deeper breath this time, and turns her attention to the smaller goblin. Obviously the larger bugbear is going to be the (there's no way around the pun, she realizes) larger problem - but it won't do to leave this smaller one standing before focusing on the main threat, lest it continue to wear her down.
Even though it will give the goblin the opportunity to take another swipe at her, Emma leans down and grabs her sword from the ground, relief flooding through her at the familiar weight of the weapon in her hand. As an Iomedaen paladin, she knows all too well how important a weapon can be, and there's always something that just feels particularly right about wielding a longsword in the face of evil. She braces herself for the impact she knows will be coming her way, the little goblin hissing and sputtering angrily in her direction.
"Begone foul one!" she commands. "You and your ilk are not welcome here!"
Then, with a determined grunt, she grips the weapon tightly and swings with purpose and hopes for the best.
Mezzodarath looks, not to Emma, but to Sirio, red eyes gazing at the Asmodean imagery, a mocking snarl curling the bestial mouth.
"You serve little hell chief? Little god of rules? Mother knows him. Mother thinks he is weak."
The little servant of hell suppresses a smirk and replies blankly, "I have no idea who that is."
He shifts in two again after the false image is struck through. A repeat trick. A little boring, but effective. "Is that some greenskin hero-god or just a common unsightly harlot?"
He presses his advantage, advancing and hammering with his brutally spiked weapon.
Constantine may not be particular perceptive, but he is knowledgeable and curious. And since he is focusing on combat instead of casting spells, he allows his mind and body to fall into their natural rhythms and instincts. His mind drifts to who Mezzodarath serves and if that knowledge can be used to help them.
While one part of his mind begins processing bits of knowledge together to produce something useful, he focuses his conscious awareness into his limbs. Amplified by the spirit housed in his sword, the occultist watches how the red-hooded goblin moves. She was quick. Purposeful. But not random.
Every combatant has a tell. The key to victory is figuring out your opponent's pattern before they figure out yours.
As they trade blows ineffectually, attacking, blocking, dancing around in their footwork, Constantine has a moment of respect for the goblin. This one seemed to have actually trained, for what it was worth.
And then: there it is. That moment where the goblin exposes a flaw in her pattern. Constantine's arm tenses as he floods his body with adrenaline and strikes out with his blade. Would it be enough?
"Emma? Good to have you back, if you're taking the little one, I'll work on the big one!" Roger's a little more terse in the rough waters the party finds themselves in, turning to face the bigger goblin (though not a goblin, that's as good as Roger can put it).
Hannelia sends an arrow into combat, narrowly weaving a hole between her allies and puncturing the bugbear's thick hide!
Emma, on her feet now, dares to grasp her goddess's favored sword from the earth, at some risk to herself...
...but not that much risk. The goblin's strikes are wild. Sword in hand, Emma straightens back up-- and the blade lashes out in a textbook strike, the tip thrusting right into the creature's eye. The goblin screams, and falls, unlikely to ever get up again.
Constantine doesn't even need to plumb the depths of his thinking to know the 'mother' that the bugbear refers to-- the holy symbol is clutched in the bugbear's fist, and it matches the symbol they saw graffiti'd in the goblin waypoint: Lamashtu, the Mother of Monsters. The gifts she gives her follows are often associated with chaos, evil, strength, madness, and trickery... though it doesn't seem like Mezzodarath has learned that 'trick' of Sirio's, anyway.
Constantine's recollections don't stop his effective fighting-- he lashes out with his swords and catches the goblin square. She gasps and rocks back from the blow, her injuries starting to catch up to her given Hannelia's arrow earlier. But her sharp little teeth bare in a snarl of defiance and she doesn't yet fall.
Roger has his hands full, meanwhile-- trying to draw the big bugbear's attention, but so far, failing to connect. He shares that boat (har har) with Sirio, whose banter is on point but whose attack falls short....
The little goblin looks around for allies and finds none. Still, she spits at Constantine and stabs again...
Though the strike is adroit, Constantine's magics offer him more protection than she can defeat.
(She is apparently not familiar with the classics.)
Mezzodarath's red eyes flick between Sirio and Roger, ascertaining the "trick" is back in play. He bears down on the wounded old pirate instead.
"Mock Mother, yes. I will let see how your words are when I pull your guts out to give to the hounds," the bugbear intones in a guttural rasp. And sends Roger overboard....
”Oh curse it all,” swears Hannelia as her arrow finds its mark but does not bring her foe down, her mood not improved as the bugbear retaliates and knocks Roger down with a powerful swing of its wicked falchion. ”Argh,” she moans. ”Luck don’t desert us now. Hold on, friend, let me take this ugly cur down so I can treat you safely.” Once more Hannelia takes aim and once more she looses an arrow at the bruising presence.
"Coward! Sirio cries. "Run back to your mother's skirt."
He strikes at the creature's shins again and again.
Constantine watches Roger get cut down and grits his teeth. He reaches back into his memory and utters a tongue he has not spoken aloud in many years.
But the occultist needs to keep his focus on the foe in front of him, whose blade is just barely turned away by his protections.
Constantine's swing is insufficient in its own right, and he takes another guarded, balancing step just in case the bigger threat is ended sooner and someone wants to take a shot at the artful dodger in the red hood.
The smaller goblin falls with a gurgling noise, and Emma flourishes her blade as she steps back from the corpse, flinging off the bits of bile and blood.
"Emma? Good to have you back, if you're taking the little one, I'll work on the big one!" Roger calls.
Emma smirks over at the salty pirate. "Ha! Don't forget to leave some for me," she calls back.
Her smirk vanishes as the large hobgoblin gets a solid hit on Roger, sending him roughly to the ground like a broken toy, where he remains, motionless. Her heart thuds in her chest with sudden anxiety and anger.
"ROGER!" she shouts. Damn these goblins! She'd only just gotten up herself, and now another of their party had also fallen victim to the giant beast.
Her first instinct is to run to the pirate to try and stabilize the man - but if they don't take down the big one first, then it's likely to be a fruitless effort. It's not an easy choice to make, but it's the right one.
Seething with a righteous fury, she tightens her grip on her longsword and shield.
"I don't understand a damn word any of you have been saying," she admits. "But that's fine - I don't need to understand you to destroy you." She raises her sword towards the sky and brandishes her shield with the symbol of Iomedae on full display. "IOMEDAE!! This disgusting behemoth is a blight upon this land! Every second it spends on this mortal coil is an insult to all that is holy! Let it be marked for the foul, pathetic creature it is!" She channels her energies and smites the large goblin with a burst of holy energy. "You don't care for the symbol of the Inheritor, hm? That's fair - for she doesn't care much for you either!"
Then with a shout, she steps forward to attack the behemoth.
Hearing the dark speech, Sirio's eyes whirl to Constantine in surprise. He snarls in reply.
"You watch your tongue, brother. I know exactly what I'm doing."
Childish of me to respond in such a manner. Mask on. he thinks to himself. Why did it bother him so much? The advice could have been helpful, he hadn't thought to connect the word "Mother" to the Mother of Monsters. Still, it angered him somehow that the Deserter had been trying to tell him what to do.
Constantine almost chuckles at Sirio's brusque reply, especially actually acknowledging their relationship. It was safer to do so in these raspy tones than in Taldane. Funny that the syntax and semantics of the language of Hell usually sounded more like commands than advice. No wonder he responded how he did.
With any luck, the bugbear would join their companions in the Boneyard to await the Lady of Graves' judgment soon.
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"Three Threes." Said a man with neatly groomed red hair and a muscled frame.
"Three Fours." Said a woman with a pale complexion and wild black mane.
"Four Fives." Said a monkey man with a fancy hat.
Roger peered at the monkey suspiciously. "Liar."
Cups were lifted and dice were counted around the dimly lit table.
"Five fives." The monkey smirked, and Roger could do naught but groan and shrug in defeat.
"Got enough time for another round?" Red scooped up his dice.
"Hope not.""He does." Roger and the woman spoke in tandem. Roger looked to the woman then sighed and shook his head, before gathering his dice as well.
Sirio and Hannelia bring arrow and morningstar to bear on the giant monstrosity; their attacks seem to shut him as he stands there, a fresh arrow imbedded in his hide, wheezing a breath that comes out bloody. Surely he must fall? Or does Lamashtu keep her favored on his misshapen feet?
Either way, Iomedae has something to say about it. Her recovered longsword catching the light, she closes the distance and drives her blade home.
There is no further banter, no smart comment. The red eyes dull slowly... and then the hulking figure sags and drops to the bloody dust of the courtyard.
Meanwhile, Constantine seems cursed-- his wit and words are sharp enough but his blade seems to be having trouble finding its target. The goblin, though heavily wounded, manages to dodge his strike. Hissing in defiance, she.... flees. Apparently, this one's smart enough to know when to [i]try[/] to run at any rate.
Exhaling heavily at the sight of the bugbear finally succumbing to multiple wounds, Hannelia is flooded with relief. Desna be praised, I don't know how much more punishment we could take. Seeing the brute fall, the last remaining goblin decides to try and flee, dodging past Hannelia before she is able to react, let along bring up her sword. She shoots a look at Roger and calls to the others. "If one of you can stop the bleeding, I can heal him in a minute. I just don't want this one getting away and sneaking back at us later. And who knows what else might be up here - we still need to help Talon."
Hot on the goblin's heels, she moves to get a clear shot, disliking shooting a fleeing foe but conscious of the risk in letting it escape. And surrendering would have been the smart choice, she muses. "Not this time," she says quietly, releasing the bowstring and sending another arrow thrumming towards her target.
Sirio takes a step to kneel by Roger's side and murmurs the words of power into the scroll in his left hand. He touches the old sailor's wound, sealing it with positive energy.
Roger's wound heals enough to bring him back to the land of the living.
"Sorry." Sirio says, "I thought I'd had his attention.
As the red-hooded goblin withdraws away out of the reach of Constantine's blade, the occultist calls out "We have another runner!" He also watches the combined might of his allies take down the bugbear, and he smiles a bit. He had almost wanted to take a crack at the priest, but was overall glad that he had distracted this other goblin so that she could not harry the others. He watches as Hannelia fires off another arrow and--with any luck--stops the final goblin in her tracks. Then he bends down and retrieves his physical shield, stowing it on his back and jogging up to meet the others.
"Hard fought and well fought," he says as he comes up. "Lady Blackford: would you care to do the honors?"
The last of the goblins falls to Hannelia's dead-eye arrow, and Roger is pulled back from his card game and the brink of darkness.... but Talon remains out there...
"Six sixes!" Roger snaps up with a start, almost bonking heads with Sirio.
"Er... Aye, no problem Sirio, it happens. Think I'll go with what Emma said. Did we win? Looks alright." Looking around, things do seem promising, not realizing Talon not currently shooting at them doesn't mean he's taken care of.
Then he bends down and retrieves his physical shield, stowing it on his back and jogging up to meet the others.
"Hard fought and well fought," he says as he comes up. "Lady Blackford: would you care to do the honors?"
"Indeed," Emma says, staring at the bugbear in distaste. "Thank you."
It was both a matter of pride at having been bested so early, and a matter of simply wanting to make sure that an evil abomination was well and truly dead. Through the grace of Iomedae, she'd made it through this fight, as had the others - it was only prudent to make sure this particular foe was well and truly dead.
Stepping up to the fallen creature, she delivers a forceful blow directly to it's heart, putting her full weight behind it. The sword sinks into the creature, accompanied by a disgusting squishing sound as a mix of blood and bile oozes out of the wound. Then she withdraws her sword and wipes it off on the ground, doing her best to clean it off with a wrinkling of her nose.
"And that's that," she says, rejoining the others. "Glad you're still with us Roger." Then she straightens up and glances around. "But...there's still the matter of Talon," she adds, in a quieter voice. "Has anyone seen where he went? What are we to do with him?"
And is there any way to save him instead of killing him? she thinks silently to herself. Even though I know Talon would rather be dead than survive on as that...thing.
Mezzodarath falls, and Emma guarantees he'll never rise again; the last goblin is skewered by Hannelia's arrow; and Roger is brought back to consciousness, at the least. A triumph? Certainly. But as Emma brings up in a sober whisper-- what of Talon?
The last anyone saw of Talon, he was racing into the narrow crevices to the north. A quiet falls over the battlefield, broken only by your own strenuous breathing.
And relax, thinks Hannelia, seeing her arrow find its mark and the last wretched goblin fall to the ground. For a minute at least, maybe. Who knows what other surprises may still lurk and we need to help poor Talon.
Stepping back to the others, she's pleased to see that Sirio has roused Roger back to consciousness, though the pirate still looks decidedly groggy. "Ok Roger," she says quietly, "I'm glad you're up but let's see if we can get you fighting fit again. That was a nasty blow so I'd like to see if we can knot things together a bit more and speed the process along. This fight has really sapped my magic," she tells the group at large, "I won't be able to cast any more healing spells today after this. She turns to look at Sirio, locking eyes with the Asmodean, and addresses him. "If you go into my bag, left-hand side pocket, there should be a case with two scrolls of healing in. Please help yourself to one to replace the one you just used - let's make sure that we have such magic split between us, as a precaution in case one of us should fall."
Turning back to Roger, she nods at him to show that she's about to cast and reaches her hands out towards the vicious wound across the old sea dog's midriff. Placing them carefully on the cut, then pressing a little more firmly, she chants through the increasingly familiar words to the spell and pours forth power into the wound. It closes up further, flesh knitting together and sealing, the internal damage less visible but likewise mending. "That's a bit better," she says. "Does anyone else need a pick-me-up or are we ready to go help our friend?"
"Speaking of which, how long is Talon likely to stay away from us, Sirio?" she asks. "We need to come up with a plan because with his bow there's a risk he could cause some serious damage again" - she glances at Emma subconsciously - "before we're able to subdue him. My vote would be to try and find him first before exploring the rest up here - much as I hate saying it, he's a potential threat and I'd rather deal with the known, as well as wanting to try and aid him as quickly as possible." She looks around the group, all nursing cuts, bruises and worse, never mind the bone-numbing chill from the mould. "We might not be at our peak but I'd also guess that unless they're possessed by madness - which I think we'd be silly to discount - any other foes up here aren't likely to be desperate to come out at us with their leaders gone. They would surely have joined in when things were going in their favour."
Constantine actually winces a bit at Emma's killing blow. "These things are foul," he acknowledges. There was no love lost for him in slaying goblinoids. Talon, on the other hand...
The occultist pats the truncheon by his side, so useful in bringing young Gellion down without killing him. "It'll be dangerous to approach Talon if he has managed to secure himself a hiding spot from which to shoot us in his fevered haze. Let's proceed carefully. I'll lead the way unless someone faster wants to."
Constantine moves towards the gate where he last saw the half-elf flee, drawing out his sap as he breaks into a run. He'll be able to hear Sirio's response when it comes.
"Speaking of which, how long is Talon likely to stay away from us, Sirio?" she asks. "We need to come up with a plan because with his bow there's a risk he could cause some serious damage again" - she glances at Emma subconsciously - "before we're able to subdue him. My vote would be to try and find him first...
Sirio fishes the scroll out of the bag with a few, "this one? Oh, nope over here"s and carefully stows it in his own scroll case strapped to his waist.
He replies, "I don't know, but the spell shouldn't be able to last longer than about now. He may have decided to continue running, but one should suspect the sludge possessing him won't let him. He may be stalking us this very second. Eyes up." the priest puts away his morningstar. "Ought not to kill him if we can help it. One will try to pin him to the ground."
"Oh aye? Well... Works never done suppose. Thanks." Roger picks himself up and gives a tip of his hat to Hannelia for the heal, only to realize it's not currently atop his head with a frown.
"Well, my cold iron's somewhere dunno where way, it'll be up to one of you to do the de-gooping, I'll try the grappling a second time." Roger moves forward a fair bit more cautiously than Constantine, trying to find cover.
"Oh aye? Well... Works never done suppose. Thanks." Roger picks himself up and gives a tip of his hat to Hannelia for the heal, only to realize it's not currently atop his head with a frown.
"Well, my cold iron's somewhere dunno where way, it'll be up to one of you to do the de-gooping, I'll try the grappling a second time." Roger moves forward a fair bit more cautiously than Constantine, trying to find cover.
"Grappling is good," Emma says, moving over to join Roger. "But we should be careful when approaching. I can already attest to the fact that our friend hits rather hard when he wants to. Still...if we can take him alive, and if there's any chance of helping him...we have to take it."
She turns to Roger. "I'll do my best to cover you, if you wish. We should be slow and cautious about this, at least until we know where he's run off to."
Constantine is the first to lay eyes on Talon; the warrior finds himself gazing down a narrow, cramped tunnel in the rock, clearly designed as an emergency egress for goblins rather than humans (or half-elves). In his panic, Talon had fled as far as his slim frame permitted, but reached a point where the tunnel narrowed too far for any but a goblin to squeeze through the crack. Cornered, he looks up at Constantine without warmth, recognition, or any immediate sign of peace.
The bow that was in his hands was dropped when Sirio's spell took effect-- fortuitous indeed, for all of you, as Emma can attest. But Talon is not wholly without weapons. He advances on Constantine, lips curling back from his teeth in a snarl, drawing his longsword from its scabbard as he comes.
But the swing misses.... Constantine suffers nothing more than spray drops of panicked sweat and infernal bile from the wild attack.
"Hi, Talon," Constantine says, sidestepping out of the way of Talon's blade. "Good to see you, too."
In Constantine's left hand he holds his own longsword, but in his right he holds the sap he picked up many days prior near the mausoleum. He has an inkling that if he were just a bit more agile he might be able to turn himself into a whirling dervish. But the goal here was to knock Talon out, not kill him outright.
So the occultist beseeches the implements he carries for a bit of extra strength, and then he swings the truncheon at his erstwhile elven comrade.
"Well, most cautious thing to do is stay by one's friend whose suddenly turned into a giant!" Roger answers Emma before moving off to follow Constantine.
"Look's like you got this one.." Roger comes up close, and shimmies left and right but finds no way to get involved.
It is definitely not a pleasant thing to consider that you're moving in to try and subdue someone who was once a friend. Especially someone who now look upon you with utter contempt. But Emma has to hope that there's still a chance they can save Talon.
She pushes herself to catch up to Roger, and notices Constantine struggling to contain the corrupted ranger.
"Constantine, my friend, let's try and draw him out a bit. This will be...easier seems a poor choice of words given the circumstances...but nevertheless. There's not much I can do to aid you from back here."
Realising that realistically she has little muscle to add to the efforts to subdue Talon - and not altogether unhappy that she doesn’t have to try and render their ally unconscious - Hannelia moves over to the party. Staying a little way away, she glances towards the other tunnel and keeps her bow out and eyes up, watching for other threats that might approach them from the rear.
Sirio hoofs it toward the combat, but there's no way he can squeeze into the narrow passage, so he's going to keep an eye out for attackers at the rear as he moves carefully forward.
He'll also be able to heal the others as they take damage.
[ooc]Double Move[/dice]
Realising that realistically she has little muscle to add to the efforts to subdue Talon - and not altogether unhappy that she doesn’t have to try and render their ally unconscious - Hannelia moves over to the party. Staying a little way away, she glances towards the other tunnel and keeps her bow out and eyes up, watching for other threats that might approach them from the rear.
Constantine swings the sap hard and it connects with the side of Talon's skull, causing him to stagger, but not to fall. The others all rush forward to bring what aid they can to bear....
Straightening back up, Talon whispers raggedly, "Worm food!" before thrusting with his sword.
But the magical shield Constantine has called into being deflects the blow.
At Emma's encouragement, Constantine realizes that he has no inherent need to engage with Talon one on one. Shortly after, the half-elf's follow-up swing comes much closer to slicing into Constantine. But the occultist had fashioned himself as a consummate warrior. "Not today I'm not. Nor will you be. Now come on out!"
Constantine adopts a more defensive stance and moves backwards so as to intentionally provoke an attack from Talon. Constantine is confident that the half-elf has little chance of hitting him, but hopefully his tainted mind will bring him forward instead of staying stuck in his crevasse.
"Steady! Think he's coming out!"
Hannelia sees Constantine withdraw after Talon’s deflected swing, moving to get back up from the frontline combatants. With no obvious role in the physical battle to subdue the wild half elf she keeps alert for signs of anything else happening in the area.
Constantine tempts fate... technically. With his guard raised as well as it is, Talon would need to be either a master swordsman or incredibly lucky to hit. And he is neither. His wild swing fails to connect.
Emma holds the line, waiting for a chance, while Sirio calls on Hell to guide Constantine's strikes again.
Talon has no thoughts for his safety, at least now that the magical fear has worn off. Hissing, the half-elf staggers forth and swings again at Constantine.
But still, Constantine's defenses hold.
Though he feels his skin crawling a bit accepting infernal aid, he relies on the notion of the Godclaw and all the representative gods joining to strike back against the horrors of the Abyss. As Talon takes the bait, Constantine tries to help him get some damned rest. (Preferably not damned damned, but he wasn't trying to kill him either, so...)
Constantine dodges out of the way of Talon's wild swings and follows up with a steady blow of his own.
"Ay, he's down! Someone get the cold iron!" Roger is quick to ask.