"I dunno about you, but at this point I think we should give him a good lump on the head or two. Talk to him after his scally done deeds are all a wreck." Roger seems to think action first, nonlethally, then talking.
After a beat, Sirio takes a breath. He'd been listening to her intently. Watching her body language and filing it away for later. He knew it would show, and tried to give her a smile as she spoke, but it faltered. Too mechanical, he knew.
He wasn't naturally charming, it didn't come easy. But like her, he was practiced at it. And he leveraged his attention to detail to make up for where he lacked.
But perhaps a bit more earnestly he replies, "One u- I... understand. One often fears what one does not know." he nods, giving a more boyish grin.
"We're very much alike after all, Hannelia. You could join the clergy! You've a mind for it." he laughs. He was joking, but in another life she could have been. And there is still time in any case. The Dark Prince is nothing if not patient.
Hannelia looks at Sirio, keeping a neutral expression as... something crosses the man's face. "Aye," she says, "quite. 'Know thyself', I've heard some say and I feel there's wisdom in that."
She glosses over the comment about the clergy, not knowing entirely what to make of it - taking the cloth on behalf of one deity or another had never really crossed her mind - but shakes off the thought for another time. Too much to potentially ponder there and it's there's more pressing needs.
"And thank you," she adds, looking at Constantine. Once she's packed away her gear she steps over to him and hands him the potion case.
* * * * *
"I'd like to establish something as we continue," Constantine says, addressing the whole room. "It is one thing to smash beetles, ants, and spiders. But when we find Gellion," Constantine hesitates, and decides to leave the question open-ended, "What do you all believe should be our approach?"
"Ah," sighs Hannelia. "That is a good question. None of this behaviour comes across to me as someone of sound mind or judgement. Assuming this is all his work then he clearly needs to be stopped but I struggle to believe he's acting entirely of his own volition." She pauses, trying to order her thoughts. "Like Sirio, I'd rather talk first but if we need to disable him then Roger's not wrong. Either way we're not trying to kill him and that's where I draw a line."
Heavy thoughts weigh on the group, musings on how to handle the wayward alchemist's apprentice.... once he can be found. For now, however, the immediate order of business seems to be getting his parents to the assistance of the temple.
Talon scratches his head. "Do we maybe want to get a cart....? Carrying them through streets-- we could handle the weight, but it'd look damned odd. And I think we don't want people asking what's going on, right? Or maybe we could simply see if the priest would be willing to come here..."
After some discussion , it's agreed that trying to bring the good father to the afflicted might be the better part of discretion, if he is willing. Talon agrees to run and be the messenger, leaving the others with the wrecked house to themselves for what no doubt feels like a long time, though the sun marks only a half-hour's progress before Talon's return.
Father Ruvarra is with him. The priest enters the house with a noise of startlement for the sheer destruction.
"You warned me, Mr. Oakheart, and still...."
Led upstairs, he shakes his head over the state of the Vazarros. He pulls two scrolls from his person and sets to work, intoning prayers to Erastil for restoration of their sapped strength.
In a few minutes, the husband and wife moan weakly, their eyelids fluttering. They look around them with confusion and weak flailing that suggests they still have a long way to go for true recovery.
"Ge... Gellion?" croaks Beldonna Vazarro, while her husband bats feebly at a spider that exists now only in his imagination.
It takes a few moments for them to come fully around, the priest carefully giving them water to sip. Explanations are made, and the horrified parents seem to struggle to absorb what they are hearing. Clearly still very weak from their ordeal, they cling to each other, sitting upright on their bed only with assistance.
Altius, Gellion's father, says raggedly, "Things were wrong for days but we... rationalized it, said it was a phase, a bad mood... he shut himself up and did all manner of damned experiments... that itself wasn't so strange, he was always tinkering with his bottles and beakers, so curious...
"But he became nasty. He'd say cruel things to us, spiteful-- when he called his mother 'a stupid cow' one night I struck him..."
Beldonna puts her face onto her husband's shoulder and cries softly. Altius weakly pats her shoulder and keeps speaking, though he is clearly weary. "We shoved each other a bit-- he ran up to his room-- I could hear all sorts of mad yelling-- and the next thing we knew there was this little..."
"Little monster!" Beldonna gasps. "Small, but wicked. It chased us around, it laughed at our fear. It herded us up into his room, scratching and clawing at us, and there were all these horrible bugs... there was no sign of Gellion... Where is he? Please, please, is he alive?"
The silent glances of the heroes to one another speak well enough to the fact that Gellion has not yet been found. Beldonna begins to cry again, exhausted from it all. Altius rubs a weary hand over his face.
"The only other thing I can think of-- before things got so very bad, when he was just acting odd-- I was certifying a shipment down near the docks, and I ran into both Gellion and his friend, the big one, Morvin? Mervin? The big lad seemed solidly drunk-- Gellion was half-carrying him. It was strange, especially as it was very late, and I never knew the big fellow to drink much. Gellion said he was just helping him home-- I let it go... I wish now that I hadn't!"
Talon looks up sharply. "Can you tell us just where you saw him?"
"Of course..." Altius gives directions to the location. "I know that area well-- a family friend of ours has a warehouse nearby... when he was little, Gellion would sometimes accompany me on my work around the docks.... better days, oh gods, the world seemed much simpler then...."
The priest looks between the couple and yourselves. "If you have no more questions for them, they badly need to rest-- I'll send someone over to check on them. I shudder to think what has happened here. I will pray Erastil grant you every fortune on your hunt, my young friends."
Constantine breathes a sigh of relief as it sounds like they are all on the same page. Even Sirio, thankfully. There are limits. Killing someone, even someone misguided, wasn't something you could easily take back. And there had been enough death in this country...
It is a relief when Talon finally returns with Father Ruvarra and revives the elder Vazarros. Constantine listens quietly as they speak, only interrupting briefly to quietly offer a name clarification.
"Morvinarr," he says under his breath after they try Morvin and Mervin.
Their tale is elucidating, and helps to solidify the timeline of events more than what they had gained previously.
"I am sorry that things have been so...awful lately. We have reason to believe that something has happened to Gellion, and his actions are not his own." Constantine doesn't share all of the information with the parents just yet. After all, as the priest says, they need to rest. Worrying about abyssal tampering would do nothing to help that. "Rest well. We'll bring him back from the brink of...whatever this is."
Constantine stands up and regards Father Ruvarra and his companions. "Do you need help getting back to the Temple? Or shall we part ways here?"
Once the answer to that is resolved and they are alone again, Constantine seconds his recommendation.
"We have a few cold iron weapons now--mine and Sirio's, along with a single arrowhead), but we'll need more. We should go to Saringallow Sundries and ensure that we are prepared for our trip to the warehouse. And from there, we should return to Pricknettle's Potions and Poultices and let Majara know what we have learned. Then we'll go to this warehouse."
"Special steel for fighting demon bugs is a Sundry.. Ah, what a world we live in." Roger shakes his head, but there's a wry smile on his lips, he seems keen on the idea.
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The magical auras emanating the bottles seem to align with the labels on them so Hannelia is happy to take them at face value. As she places them back into the straw to keep them safe, she turns to face Sirio. "I thank you for your confidence in my abilities to slide those notes out but, uh," she swallows, disliking admitting her vulnerability, "there's a difference between something like this," - she gestures to the box - "and that." She looks at her hands and shrugs. "Delicate? Perhaps. Practiced? Not at that. I've opened dozens of locks, I've planned and practiced, I know how it works - and that preparation gives me the best chance of succeeding. It might sound simple but I've not done the same with moving paper, seeing how it reacts in different liquids, testing which direction to move it in is likely to do the least damage. And not knowing that makes me doubt myself more than I'd like. I know what I can do - and I'm good at it - but I also know what my limitations are."
She pauses to see how Sirio, or any of the others, react to what she's saying. "You know how some people don't like surprises?" she continues, "That's me. I can't say I love them. And yeah, I know that sounds a bit crazy given what we're doing here trying to unravel these disappearances but even in amongst all this madness, I'm definitely happier when I know what's what."
Emma glances around the room as the group waits for Talon to return. It's an ominous air that lingers, given all they've encountered so far. Given what they've seen and uncovered, it seems likely that future discoveries will likewise be shrouded in darkness. Thus far, being part of a party hasn't been quite what she has expected. Not because of the others - no, so far, she's been humbled by their skills and quick thinking in battle. No, it's her own performance that makes her take pause and wonder if perhaps she's made a mistake. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting really...just...not this. Not abyssal corruption.
Shaking her head, she looks at the others around her. There's no way she's abandoning them now. She just hopes that she doesn't prove to be any more of a disappointment further down the line. Thus far, she feels like one of the most ill equipped. She hadn't even thought to bring a cold iron weapon. What kind of Paladin was she?
Enough! she ordered herself. There was time enough later to reflect more upon this. But for now, she had to stay focused. She thought of her mother's trainings. It had been unorthodox at times, to say the least. She'd known this much based upon the reactions of a handful of other Paladins who had stopped in and given her odd looks at some of the questions Emma had asked. She'd gone to her mother and asked about it - why her mother taught things that seemed contrary to others who served Iomedae. "I understand your worries and frustrations Em. I do. But the thing of it is, I've seen a lot of situations throughout my service. The world very rarely fits into a predictable box. You need to be prepared to work with others who don't share your beliefs, because more often than not, that's what the world will thrust at you. You can't always pick your team. You definitely can't pick the situation. But you absolutely can pick the way you approach it."
With a sigh, Emma stops her pacing and looks over to Hannelia. Hoping she's not overstepping her bounds, she steps closer and gestures for her attention. "I just wanted to say, I appreciate your efforts earlier. I'm of a same mind, I think. I never cared much for surprises. My mom, who taught me, she loved them. She made them part of my training. Sometimes I wish she hadn't, and had just stuck with the traditional methods, but...either way. Your skill is admirable. It's not easy to step out of your comfort zone and do something you're not used to."[/b] She looks around at the others, smiling slightly. An odd group to be sure, but she's enjoyed working with them so far. "I have a feeling we'll have to step outside of our comfort zones a few more times before this is all said and done. I just wanted to acknowledge that now...as it's entirely possible you may need to throw those words back in my face at some point in the future." She laughs softly to let Hannelia know that she's kidding.
...For the most part.
-------------
"I dunno about you, but at this point I think we should give him a good lump on the head or two. Talk to him after his scally done deeds are all a wreck." Roger seems to think action first, nonlethally, then talking.
Emma frowns as she listens to the group debating over how to handle Gellion when they find him. Not if - but when. She's sure enough of this by now. They're close to seeing this through - this part of it at least, at least. There's truly no telling what may come next. Given their luck so far though, it was probably going to be something crawly and gross.
At Roger's words, Emma holds up her hands. "I must agree with Sirio here," she protests. "We should consider a nonviolent approach first. Perhaps it won't work, but it's worth a try. That's not to say that we shouldn't take precautions - perhaps Talon could stay back and concealed as best as possible and have a draw on him, should it prove possible to do so upon finding him. Either way, if we go in with swords drawn and ill intent, it will set the tone of whatever happens next. It's not a decision that we can easily undo, and should it be possible to avoid further bloodshed, I think we should take it." She lowers her hands and sighs. "I am not foolish however. Not entirely, at least. I know that it's unlikely that the peaceful approach will work, and we should absolutely be ready to subdue him. But it's one of the things my mom always stressed. You can't dictate what the situation will be...but you can decide how you approach it."
-------------
Once the answer to that is resolved and they are alone again, Constantine seconds his recommendation.
"We have a few cold iron weapons now--mine and Sirio's, along with a single arrowhead), but we'll need more. We should go to Saringallow Sundries and ensure that we are prepared for our trip to the warehouse. And from there, we should return to Pricknettle's Potions and Poultices and let Majara know what we have learned. Then we'll go to this warehouse."
Emma nods resolutely at Constantine's words. Almost instinctively, her hand reaches down to the blade she brought with her. A generic blade, but it's served her well thus far. While much of her mother's teachings had been unusual, she had been very adamant about trusting in your weapon. That it should be an extension of your self, and not simply just a weapon. Thus far, her weapon has been simply that - a tool, and one that hasn't been meeting her needs. Perhaps it was time to correct that.
"Yes, absolutely," she finally says. "That's a good idea Constantine. Given everything that's occurred so far, it would be a very prudent idea to have more cold iron available to us. I doubt we've encountered the last of abyssal corruption. While time is of the essence, it would be a good idea to be prepared for what may lie ahead."
"Definitely a solid plan," concurs Hannelia to the shopping suggestion. "I think we all now know I prefer to be prepared," she adds lightly. "As Emma says, time is of the essence so should we divide ourselves between the supplies and Pricknettle's? Or just step lightly and act swiftly?"
She rubs absently at a mark on her elbow that she must have acquired in the earlier fight, or perhaps just exploring the chaos. "I do have one further suggestion before, or rather as, we go. I think we ought to do secure the house to ensure nobody else comes in right now, whether that be from nefarious intentions or simple curiosity." She looks around at the devastation that has been wrought upon the place. "And I'd like to come and help clean up this mess, though that will have to wait right now. I'm sure Father Ruvarra can put up Beldonna and Altius at the temple until this place is habitable again."
”Excellent thinking Hannelia. Mr. Fioritura and I already have cold iron weapons, so the rest of you can go outfit yourselves while we bring the apothecary up to speed. We will rendezvous at the docks to investigate the warehouse after that.” Sirio instructs.
"If there's nothing else, shall we make haste?" He says, whirling an index finger toward the door.
Constantine blanches at the thought of solo time with Sirio, but tries not to let it show in his face. After all, it did make the most sense, given their supplies. There was no need to rove about town like a pack of hungry wolves.
"We can clean later. And perhaps if we inform the mayor, she can block off the house from outside intrusion. If there is an arcanist in town, they may even be able to place an arcane lock to ensure security."
Constantine checks his armaments and makes sure that they have taken all of the gently borrowed supplies from the house (only to solve the problems wrought by one of the occupants). Then he steps out with Sirio so they can begin making their way back to the apothecary.
Let him talk first. Not that that will be much of a problem for him.
In the interests of time, the heroes split up....
Saringallow's Sundries is a large and bustling shop, an emporium of needful goods brought from all over Avistan, and even further climes. It would not sit amiss in a larger city; the river's heavy trade traffic, as well as the fact that the shop is technically a consortium of shops, with merchants pooling their resources to buy stock, means it has a richer selection than a town of Saringallow's size might otherwise support.
Finding the weapons merchant among the bustling market building isn't difficult-- a dwarf wearing fine chain mail mans his stall, though 'stall' seems an insufficient for the permanent structure, that has three solid walls and numerous display shelves. At the request for cold iron arms, he directs you to one particular wall of 'exotic substances.'
"You must be hunting some sort of monsters," the dwarf says with a chuckle, thumbs looped in his belt. "Haven't sold much cold iron the last three-month or so, and suddenly I've got that girl and her raven buyin', and now you lot as well. Trouble?"
****
At Majara's, the gnome greets Sirio and Constantine with a single nod, and silently turns over the 'closed' sign behind the two of them. "What news?"
Listening with an expressionless mien, the gnome finally sighs. "Such trouble. I hope he learns from all of this. If he's still alive."
She makes her way among the shelves, plucking forth several items before pushing them into your hands. "Perhaps these will help. They're labeled."
Soothe syrup: This sweet and wholesome-tasting blue liquid creates a sense of warmth and comfort. Soothe syrup coats your stomach and makes it much more difficult for you to succumb to queasiness. For 1 hour after drinking soothe syrup you gain a +5 alchemical bonus on saving throws made to resist effects that would make you nauseated or sickened.
Vermin repellent: This vile-smelling white paste keeps vermin at bay if spread on the skin. Normal-sized (Fine) vermin avoid you. Swarms of vermin must make a DC 15 Fortitude saving throw in order to enter your square. Once applied, vermin repellent remains effective for 4 hours or until you spend 1 round washing it off.
"You must be hunting some sort of monsters," the dwarf says with a chuckle, thumbs looped in his belt. "Haven't sold much cold iron the last three-month or so, and suddenly I've got that girl and her raven buyin', and now you lot as well. Trouble?"
Emma shrugs her shoulders. "A bit of it, you could say," she says in what she hopes is an easygoing voice. She really doesn't want to go into the details again. The dwarf doesn't need to know about the corrupted house or the foul giant insects. "Nothing we can't handle, of course, but it never hurts to have the proper equipment for the job, eh?"
She scans the items available, and it's not hard to find a cold iron longsword. The unassuming weapon doesn't look all that much different from her own sword really. It disappoints her a bit, though she knows in this case, it's not about how the weapon looks, but how the weapon performs. Against the forces of the abyss, cold iron was a powerful tool.
But the price of the sword causes her mouth to go dry. 30 gold...it would wipe out all the gold she had left, leaving her with only 4 silvers. It was all the money she'd had left after outfitting herself for the journey. If only she'd thought to buy a cold iron weapon in the first place.
For a moment, she considered walking away. Of course, she quickly reminds herself that it would make her look exceptionally foolish, given her talk earlier about being properly prepared. And whinging about money isn't likely to help matters much either.
I hate to think of a monetary reward when it comes to fighting forces from the abyss, Emma thought to herself, but hopefully I can earn some of this back when we get paid by the mayor. Otherwise, I could be staying here longer than anticipated.
She lets out a sigh and catches the dwarf's attention. "I'll take the cold iron longsword," she says, reaching for her purse.
So much for any more fresh bread in the foreseeable future.
"Exactly so," agrees Hannelia, backing up Emma. She browses some arrows and a dagger, assuming the quality is decent but hoping that Emma or Roger will be able to confirm this. "And on the subject of having the proper equipment, while we're here perhaps we should see what we can get for some of these potions? I'm loathe to trade away valuable items but weapons of this quality don't come cheap and they should be a wise investment for us all." She feels rather guilty raising the subject but she's not flush with coin at the moment.
Talon peruses the wares and ultimately purchases a bundle of arrows tipped with cold iron arrowheads, as he still has some coins jangling in his pocket. "Here, Hannelia," he offers, proffering ten to her. "I'd rather we both had some-- I'm sure I can collect a gold coin from you at some point in the future." He winks.
"We could try and trade some of the potions, but I doubt we'd get their true worth...."
It is a busy morning, between running around to the apothecary's, the Sundries, and the mayor's to update her on the situation and as to the destroyed household. The mayor listens somberly, and agrees to place guards at the home and make sure no further disturbance happens on site. When she hears you'll be following up a lead in the busy and bustling warehouse district, she says that she'll send a patrol to clear the nearby streets of any passersby or curious gawkers, so that there's no chance of innocent bystanders getting caught in the possible troubles.
The major declares how impressed she is with how much you've uncovered in such a relatively short time. She wishes you luck in the next stage of your investigation, expressing her belief that she's clearly hired the right people for this job....
It's just past noon when you stand in the Conerica Docks, with the warehouse in question in your sights. Normally, there'd be carts and wagons and foot traffic in plenty, but they have been diverted due to the mayor's influence.
You see two possible entrances to the building ahead. A single door leads to the 'office' entrance, and a pair of sturdy wooden double doors presumably allow for cargo entrance to the larger part of the warehouse. The single door shows some signs of recent foot traffic on the footpath that leads to it-- booted feet, as well as drag marks.
"Those big doors look hard to use and could let a big beastie out, I'd rather they keep holding whatever devilry-er... sorry, demonry? ... I say we go in the people door." Roger stumbles over his words a bit, but generally suggests a frontal approach.
Emma regards the two entrances, weighing over the various benefits to either approach. Were they a larger party, it would be ideal to cover both entrances to cut off any potential enemies - not an option at the moment. It's no surprise that Roger wants to take the direct approach.
"The only thing that gives me pause about using the smaller door is that it could lead to cramped quarters, making it hard to fight if there's any more corrupted insects inside." She looks back over at the larger door. "But given our current luck and past experiences, I'm inclined to agree with Roger about their potentially being an even larger corrupted beast within those doors."
"So help me Iomedae, if there's a giant spider within, I'm going to burn the entire place to the ground," she adds in an undertone. Emma shudders slightly at the thought of a warehouse sized spider. She'd never had an issue with the tiny ones before, even letting one keep it's web in the corner of her quarters back home. Now she would be hard pressed not to stab even the smaller ones with her sword once this was all over.
She turns to look at the others in the party, hand instinctively going to her newly acquired longsword. Despite being an expensive purchase, it does instill a bit more confidence in her. "If we end up using the smaller door, I shall go first, shield at the ready. Roger, I do believe you'd be best behind me. Talon, I would suggest you remain in the rear, covering our backs as well as keeping an eye on the larger door. If we end up going through the larger door, we should spread out a bit more, which will hopefully prevent anything from in from charging past us and flanking our group. It may even be prudent to try and narrow the pathway that anything within could take once the door is open - I don't suppose any of you have something that could create a temporary or hazardous barrier to block off part of the entryway? Perhaps even a controlled fire that blocks off enough of the entryway to create a choke-hold."
Talon peruses the wares and ultimately purchases a bundle of arrows tipped with cold iron arrowheads, as he still has some coins jangling in his pocket. "Here, Hannelia," he offers, proffering ten to her. "I'd rather we both had some-- I'm sure I can collect a gold coin from you at some point in the future." He winks."We could try and trade some of the potions, but I doubt we'd get their true worth...."
Feeling somewhat guilty for putting herself in this situation, but also knowing that she will gladly repay her debt, Hannelia takes the ammunition and stores it away in her quiver. "Thank you, Talon, that's much appreciated."
* * * * *
She turns to look at the others in the party, hand instinctively going to her newly acquired longsword. Despite being an expensive purchase, it does instill a bit more confidence in her. "If we end up using the smaller door, I shall go first, shield at the ready. Roger, I do believe you'd be best behind me. Talon, I would suggest you remain in the rear, covering our backs as well as keeping an eye on the larger door. If we end up going through the larger door, we should spread out a bit more, which will hopefully prevent anything from in from charging past us and flanking our group. It may even be prudent to try and narrow the pathway that anything within could take once the door is open - I don't suppose any of you have something that could create a temporary or hazardous barrier to block off part of the entryway? Perhaps even a controlled fire that blocks off enough of the entryway to create a choke-hold."
"Actually I can," replies Hannelia. "I can work a spell that will coat an area of the floor with a layer of grease. It won't necessarily stop someone in the way a barrier will but it will hopefully slow them down or at least make them think twice before moving through it. And if I can hit someone with one of these," she gestures to the newly acquired tanglefoot bags she is now carrying, "then they won't be going anywhere fast."
"That said, I agree with you and Roger that the smaller door feels the smarter choice at this point. Before we go through either though, let me see I can find anything that might influence our decision." So saying, she speaks aloud the words to a simple magical working, trying to find any magical auras behind either door.
Hannelia sees no signs of magic on the door or around it.... But with a tactical plan in place, the group approaches the door, Emma in the lead, with her shield and sword drawn.
Perception:
Initiative:
As you move closer, Sirio, Talon, and Constantine call out, almost in unison.... "Watch out, Miss Blackford!" "Something's moving in there!" "A lot of somethings!"
No sooner have they cried out when a roiling carpet of dozens-- no, hundreds-- of spiders pour out the cracked door, a thousand tiny legs making a soft sussurrus like dead leaves against cobblestones as they spill towards our heroes.
Talon swears in Elven and hurriedly starts rummaging among Hannellia's pouches and packs. "Not feeling you up!" he blurts. "Grabbing fire! Weapons won't do anything against creatures that small!"
Sirio borrows from Hannelia in the same movement as Talon. He shoots him a look for his comment on impropriety but does the same and retrieves an acid flask from her things.
Talon grabs fire! Sirio grabs acid! They somehow manage to conduct this collision of hands on poor Hannelia without crunching any fragile bottles of caustic or incendiary substances against each other, or Hannelia.
And then come the spiders.
They roil out from the building's inside, bringing with them a waft of decay and trailing filigree strands of glistening bile behind their thousand tiny legs. In the blink of an eye, they blanket the ground beneath Roger, Sirio, Constantine, and Emma, and waste no time in starting to move upwards-- up legs, crawling down inside boots, biting anywhere they can.
Fortitude:
Distraction:
Despite the stinging, intense pain of dozens of hate-infused bites, our heroes are strong souls-- Emma and Sirio and Constantine feel no flush of poison in their veins, at least. Constantine is, however, sickened by the sheer feeling of the crawling things....
Roger feels a dark poison start to course through his veins..!
Constantine staggers back from the swarm, dry-heaving as he goes....... one of the spiders was crawling into his mouth.... urgh.... the voices of the past don't say anything about this...
Talon hoists his newly-borrowed fire and judges the best spot to aim-- into the mass of spiders that Constantine just vacated. He backs up to the wall and hurls his vial.
Unfortunately a bow seems a different creature than a bottle of fire. The flask goes wide, but Talon errs on the side of not hitting his allies and it smashes on the ground between the swarm and the wall. Some of the spiders still burn in the resulting splash, at least.
Roger manages to shrug off the dizzying burn through his veins....
Roger jigs his way away from the spiders once again, "Ack, I miss the big ones now! Wish I were one of them Ifrit-fire-folk who could just set himself on fire and roll around to burn the lot of them to crisps!"
Sirio is nearly at death's door before he's able to escape the swarm. He doesn't get far before he hurls a flask of acid at the center of the mass of spiders.
Despite the light touches of acid and fire so far, the bulk of the swarm seems intact. It roils forward to engulf Hannelia as well as Emma, apparently seeking fresh blood and meat!
Nauseated, 1 rd
Poisoned, take Str damage
Nauseated, 1 rd
As the spiders advance, clambering and clinging to her, Hannelia frantically tries to brush them off. Gagging, it’s all she can do to stagger away.
Gagging and fighting off the urge to throw up as the spiders swarm over her body - up into her armor, over her legs, scratching and biting at her skin - Emma stops her feet down a few times for good measure before moving away. She finds herself agreeing with Roger - at least the big spiders were something they could fight on a more even level.
From now on, once I return home, any spider I see, no matter how benign, is going to be crushed under my heel with no mercy, Emma thought to herself, continuing to brush spiders off as best as she could as stumbled away from the swarm.
The burn of poison sings along Emma's veins from those many, many bites....
Talon looks worried. "Anyone have any bright ideas?" he says, as he is now the one closest to the swarm. "You all look pretty hurt already!"
Taken down by spiders. Constantine wishes that he had grabbed one of the vials from Hannelia's pack before all of this, but as he spits the corpse of a spider from his mouth he looks at the others, all dealing with it worse than him.
"A tactical retreat may be in order!" he hisses, withdrawing towards the double doors. "Or trying the other way in, perhaps."
Constantine tries the wooden double doors while reaching for his lockpicks. He was useless against the spiders, but he could do something useful.
"Don't open blasted more doors, what if there's more spiders behind them!" Roger yells to Constantine, before running in a different direction.
Sirio forcefully brandishes his pentagram towards the swarm and declares, "By the Order of the Prince of Darkness I rebuke you vermin!"
Reddish light flares over the swarm and a substantial number of the spiders seize up and die.... but the swarm appears to still be active. Its numbers have been badly thinned by your attacks thus far, however.
Talon looks worriedly from himself to Emma, considering the ability of the swarm to get them both, as well as Emma's current level of injuries. "Try and get back further from it if you can't hurt it!" he calls to her, then bravely tries to focus the swarm's atttention on himself, since he is as yet unharmed. He rushes forward through the spiders, then back out of them, trompling as many as he can, mostly just in hopes of getting their attention.
The swarm duly focuses on the fresh new meat to enter their range. They crawl all over Talon, with some of them sending an expeditionary force towards Sirio, but unable to reach him juuust yet.
The half-elf seems to be holding up fairly well all things considered. He shouts: "Hurt it however you can! Don't worry if you get me in it!"
Unable to add any further damage to the fight, Sirio hops over to Hannelia's side and asks for permission to grab another acid flask. Presuming she gives it, he'll retrieve a flask from her personage to toss at the swarm.
Constantine grits his teeth as Roger rebukes his plan. Yes, there could be more spiders, and inviting another batch of abyssal vermin was likely to be foolish. But he was concerned that there was little other way that he could contribute to the ongoing skirmish.
...but what would be the harm in undoing the lock, but leaving the door closed? For now at least. He'd never taken much of a liking to shut-up places, nor much cared for the impetus of being told what to do. Roger hadn't meant it that way, but the nagging spirits at the back of his mind urged something a bit bolder and brasher.
Only Emma could properly see what he was up to anyway, and she seemed occupied. Constantine removes his coat and shield, both clattering to the ground with dull thuds.
"Please do!" replies a somewhat panicked Hannelia to Sirio's question, allowing him to grab a flask as she retrieves one herself. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she whispers a quick plea for luck before launching the container at the mass of spiders.
(Miss direction)
Hannelia throws in a somewhat panicked fashion, and misses the knot of spiders-- but fortunately, her hurled acid is close enough that multiple spiders still catch splashover from the acid! Roger's exhortations seem to serve her well-- because with this last acid bath, the bulk of the swarm seems to be scattering.....
Talon cautiously shuts the door.
Before Constantine actually sets about unlocking the second door, he draws out a curative potion and quaffs it.
That's much better. There's still some mild itching from where the spiders crawled under his coat, but he is ready to continue.
"Hopefully that's the last of that we'll have to deal with. Should we continue?"
Although her throw fell short of the target, the splash from the acid is enough to drop some of the spiders. Seeing the remainder scatter, she lets out a sigh of relief. "That," she exhales, "was not enjoyable." She pats at her clothes, smoothing them down, a phantom feeling of limbs moving over her still present. Shuddering slightly, she looks around and sees Constantine revive himself thanks to a potion. "Does anyone else need a restorative? I have one. And please, let's share the rest of these acid vials out, just in case."
As everyone dusts themself down, she replies to Constantine, "Gods yes. I suppose so - continue through that door or open the big one?"
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"Well, that was a right storm, but we've already braved it, so why not use it?" Roger quaffs potions of restoration and curing alike with the practiced ease of a man whose residential address could be mistaken for The Witch's End.
He comes out sparkling like a new man. Who is still dressed like a shabby pirate.
Huffing and puffing, Sirio stares down the last of the dispersing spiders, willing them away. He retrieves a scroll, not taking his eye off of one spider particularly late to leave. He murmurs something in Infernal as he activates the scroll and dabs his forehead with a drop of ichorous blood. The bites, scratches and wounds begin to knit themselves closed over the next minute if he is allowed to wait that long. And to that end he’ll ask, ”Wait. Give me a moment to collect myself.”
He adds, "I can do that once more, if anyone is still wounded.
Constantine puts his armor and shield back on, and goes over to the rest of the group. He takes the offered flask of acid from Hannelia, not wanting to be caught unaware again.
He watches Sirio's Infernal healing with a pit in his stomach, and tries to ignore how sickening it is. He won't begrudge anyone else willing to take the healing, but he has no interest.
"We might as well continue in the way that we started. But I'm prepared to open another door if we need it, even if only to have another way out."
The swarm of spiders hadn't been something Emma had been anticipating. So far, they'd fought a number of corrupted beasts, but those beasts had been something she could actually face off against. Nothing quite like that. She'd brushed off all the spiders she could find, but it still felt as though their tiny legs were grabbing all over her body.
She shot a weary glance at Sirio and his 'healing.' It felt wrong to her, and it wasn't something she could condone of - nor was it something that would benefit her, considering it's unholy nature. But she just didn't have the energy to try and argue about it or argue the nature of deities with Sirio.
Right now, she felt...she felt like she had during her training.
Like she'd been punched in the face.
Emma felt like a soldier playing dress-up. The armor she wore felt too bulky, and the sword in her hand too heavy. Across from her, also wearing armor, stood her mother. She had a stern look on her face, regarding Emma. She gave a slight nod, and motioned towards Emma to begin.
Emma grit her teeth and stepped forward, raising the sword. The sword arced through the air; her mother lifted her own sword and parried the blow, easily. Without warning, her mother reached out and sucker punched Emma in the face, sending her sprawling backwards with a gasp. She lost her grip on the sword, which tumbled to the ground with a noisy clatter. Emma fell back onto a pile of hay, blinking the surprise out of her face. She stared up at her mother, rubbing her chin, fighting down the sudden flash of betrayal she felt.
Her mother gave a humorless chuckle. "Come now, dear. You know this. Lesson number one," she told her daughter. "Never let your guard down. Your opponent will never fight fair."
"I'm sorry," Emma mumbled, trying to squash down on the feeling of shame. That punch had hurt. She was going to have a bruise from this, for sure. It hadn't been the first time her mother had caught her off guard like that, nor was it the first time she'd have to heal from an injury sustained during training. Her mother was just over five feet tall, but her muscles bulged as if they were carved from stone.
"Don't be sorry. Be better. Let's try again. Don't hold back just because you're fighting me. Swing like you mean it!"
This time when Emma swung at her mother, her aim was true, striking her mother squarely across the shoulder blade. Emma winced, expecting a blistering lecture about how she hadn't been paying attention, or that she wasn't concentrating enough, or that her footing was unsound. Instead, her mother grunted and dropped her sword. "That's it," she said, sounding satisfied. "See? When you're not thinking about it too much, you can do it. You've got some talent there, lass."
"I'm not sure I'll ever be as good at sword fighting as you are," Emma admitted. "Your movements are so graceful, and you're so strong."
Her mother chuckled, sheathing her sword. "I've been doing this for a long time, dear Emma. You'll get better with practice. That's why we're doing this."
Emma nodded, unsure what else to say. She couldn't help feeling like an imposter: here she was, dressed up in loaned armor, feeling as though she were merely pretending to be a Paladin. If she were honest with herself, she'd have to admit that she didn't feel like much of a Paladin at all. Paladins were supposed to be brave and fearless, ready to charge headfirst into danger. She felt more like a little girl playing dress-up. But she didn't want her mom to be disappointed. She knew her mom wanted her to succeed at being a Paladin, and that meant she would have to do everything she could to make sure that happened. It was time to put aside childish things… like worrying about whether she looked foolish while learning how to be a Paladin.
"You're making good progress," her mom went on. "Being a Paladin of Iomedae isn't just about how skillful you are with a sword. You must hone your speech as well; a fight avoided with diplomacy is something that lets both sides win."
The idea of using words rather than swords sounded nice, but Emma wondered how often such tactics would work. In reality, most fights ended with someone dead—either by their own hands, or someone else's. And then there was the matter of the fact that the world was filled with people who thought killing others was okay. How could you teach them otherwise, without resorting to violence yourself?
"I don't know," Emma finally replied. "It seems easier to kill an enemy before they can hurt me. If I try just talking, won't that give them an opportunity to attack me while I'm unaware?"
"No!" her mother said sharply. "You should always defend yourself from danger. But you must never be the aggressor! Uphold the truths I have imparted upon you, and let your thoughts ring true with the grace of Iomedae. You must be as righteous in your beliefs as you are in your actions. You must always give those who oppose you a chance to surrender and change their minds. If they force you into a fight, then so be it. But don't be the one looking for the fight." Her mother withdrew her sword once more, turning away from Emma. "Now. Again."
They faced off against each other, and Emma found that she was actually enjoying sparring with her mother. She could tell her mother was tired after only two bouts, yet still she pressed on, forcing Emma to match her speed and strength. For her part, Emma tried not to think about the bruises and scrapes already decorating her arms and legs, and instead concentrated on the joy of wielding a sword. After another half hour had passed, her mother allowed Emma to rest. They sat together in silence until the sun began to set. When she spoke next, her voice was hoarse and strained.
"I'm going to bed," her mother announced abruptly. "Get some sleep. I'm proud of you."
Emma nodded and watched her mother walk off, heading towards their small cabin. It was the last time she'd talk to her mother. The next morning, she would rise to find that her mother had died during the night, taken by some unknown illness. There was no warning, nothing that hinted at any trouble ahead. Just one day of happiness followed by pain.
She was alone now.
Emma shook her head, blinking rapidly. That had been one of the worst mornings of her life. And now, here she was, battered and bruised because of something she hadn't seen coming.
She stomped her foot down onto a lone spider, cut off from the rest of the swarm.
"Hannelia," Emma said, turning towards her fellow party member. "I ended up taking more of a hit than I thought I would. I believe you have our last healing potion. If we're going to press on, I'd rather be ready for a fight. And hopefully, it will be a proper fight this time."
Emma's demeanor is different than what Constantine had come to expect of her, but that's reasonable. Being chewed alive by a swarm of spiders was not an enjoyable experience.
"A proper fight would be nice. Gellion must be close."
The potion isn't Constantine's to give, but he expects Hannelia to be reasonable all things considered.
Again, there is no shame in a tactical retreat if we need to resupply. That was unexpected."
While turning a paladin of The Inheritor would be an incredible win for Sirio's reputation, that wasn't the sort of thing that was won by a simple healing spell. Such a paladin would surely rather die.
Sirio responds to Constantine giving him a cold glare, "And risk the trail going cold? I think not. One cannot abandon the boy. Regardless of how far gone he may be."
While turning a paladin of The Inheritor would be an incredible win for Sirio's reputation, that wasn't the sort of thing that was won by a simple healing spell. Such a paladin would surely rather die.
Sirio responds to Constantine, giving him a cold glare, "And risk the trail going cold? I think not. One cannot abandon the boy. Regardless of how far gone he may be."
Constantine chuckles at the implications and assumptions in Sirio's words. "I'm not abandoning him. But if some of us want to stay here to monitor the warehouse while others return to the Temple for a bit of healing care, it's an option."
With only a few scratches remaining, Constantine would count himself in the former group: ready to stay or continue.
Emma gratefully accepts the potion from Hannelia and pours the concoction down her throat.
The potion helps, though only somewhat. She still feels as though she's been through the wringer. But wounded pride won't let her back down from the current situation unless the others all agree. Nor will she let herself abandon someone in need should they be in the warehouse.
"I'm still a bit shaken from the fight, but I'm ready to continue on," Emma tells the others. "Just let me know what you decide, and I shall follow."
After some conferring, it's agreed that it's best to press the advantage rather than wait for more horrors to possibly spawn inside this warehouse. The heroes see to their wounds as best they can. Then, cautiously, they approach the door from whence the spiders had erupted, and edge it open with the tip of a blade....
Basic warehouse supplies, such as ropes, hammers, crowbars, and cargo nets, hang from the northern wall of this room. Several crates stand against the western wall. Doors stand against the east and south walls. A pulsating mass of purplish-black sludge lies along the floor near the southern wall between the two doors, and long filaments anchor the substance to the walls and ceiling. A large, strange egg sac lies at the center of the slime, with tiny legs visibly scrabbling beneath its surface. Three other nearby egg sacs have already burst.
No sooner have you taken in this site then you see overly-large centipedes scurrying towards you!
lol what a bunch of crap rolls for all
Talon sizes up the room with a glance, rushes in, and sends an arrow towards the egg. "I don't want more things coming out of that!"
His arrow pierces into the pulsating egg with a wet sklutch... the legs inside cease to move.