Baradim lets Finoan look over him for a bit, the automaton's skill patching up the cuts and scrapes to his body. Once ready, he nods towards the simpler of the two doors.
"I agree. Check keep the path behind us open and leave nothing to chance. Thank you Finoan, I am ready when you all are." The orc, far more healed now, would make his way towards the door and look to the others to open it as he had his sword and shield ready for combat.
After a little over half an hour of healing, The Princess Guard moves over to the door off to the left. When the door opens, they see nothing outwardly threatening. The cavern is strewn with refuse, bones, random equipment, and other little bits and pieces. One of the walls looks more polished and finished than the others.
Finoan walks into the room and gives it a good looking over.
Finoan digs through the bones and fines a low-grade cold iron dagger, a wolf fang talisman, and about 8gp in assorted coins.
Niss takes a closer look at the weird polished section of the wall. The rocks are pretty there!
Niss seems taken in by the pretty rocks along the wall while Finoan is elbow-deep in bones and refuse.
After any preparations, all of you head back to the hallway that leads to a stairway to the solid, iron-bound double doors in the wall. A crude carving of a small rural village being set ablaze decorates the doors--despite the poor artistry and age of the carvings, the village has an unmistakable resemblance to Etran's Folly.
"Oh, lovely. So it's a mad alchemist slaver, living in a cavern, in a blight, behind an illustration of the town on fire. I feel as though there should be a painted sign that says 'A bad guy lives here'."
"Yeah, I am pretty sure that is what this is - just one made by someone who is illiterate."
Finoan checks the door to see if it is trapped. He does still remember barging into Hallod's place.
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Baradim gives a little laugh before taking one of the small elixirs of life that they had found on the dead orc and pouring it back down his throat. The burnt taste of cinnamon spreads over his tongue even as a wash of energy and vitality runs through his very being.
"Ready when you are, Finoan." The soldier says, lifting his metal shield and preparing for whatever mutated abominations await ahead of them.
Finoan pushes open the doors after inspecting them and finding nothing. The doors are unlocked and swing open easily, revealing what looks like a crude living space, bedroom included, for the orcish man standing in the open frame of another door. The orcish man, who you presume to be The Sculptor that Kebbek spoke of, bares his teeth in a wide grin. His dark hair is slicked back away from his face, held in place with magnifying goggles that cover his eyes and wrap around his head. He wears simple clothing: a stained, tan tunic and tan pants with a heavily used, heavily soiled apron filled with various alchemical tools. Stirrers, towels, and the tops of flasks stick out of his pockets and clank loudly with each small movement the orc makes.
”Finally. I heard the commotion, saw you all in the other room...” He barks with laughter and darts backward into the following room, not waiting for The Princess Guard to reply.
The Princess Guard bursts into action and chases the Sculptor into the next room, stopping just within the doors to take in the horrifying sight before them. The orcish alchemist has stopped in front of a table where the whimpering moans of a human man can be heard. In the center of the chamber, you see a human man strapped, slightly tilted upright, to a large rack. The poor man’s flesh is flayed and hangs like ribbons in certain areas, replaced with large glass and metal cauldrons that seem to be extracting blood from him, mixing that blood with reagents within the cauldrons, and then pumping the blood back into him. The man’s face is drawn in agony, mouth hanging open and eyes empty of anything other than suffering.
Around the room, the Princess Guard can see shackles mounted to the wall and tell-tale stains that suggest that many other prisoners have suffered similar fates as the man in the middle.
The Sculptor draws a powder from one of his pouches and flicks it into the face of the man.
All at once, a strange, oozing substance bursts forth from the man’s body, his anguished screams echoing throughout the chamber until suddenly, abruptly, they stop. A horrifying red ooze seeps forth from the man’s body, swelling forth like a disgusting, bloody bubble about to burst. The oozing thing looks as though it is made entirely of blood. Its slick, crimson skin is marred only by thick, brown spots that look like clots that have formed on the surface.
The Sculptor looks triumphantly toward you all and laughs wildly. ”It worked! It actually worked! Ha! She’ll be so pleased!” He turns toward the ooze and points at The Princess Guard, saying commandingly: ”Get them!”
The blood ooze lurches forward at the Sculptor’s command, leaving a disgusting trail of slimy blood behind it. The ooze moves agonizingly slow, stopping just short of 5 feet from Finoan and Baradim.
"Oh great. I hate fighting against crazy."
Finoan tries to remember what he knows about animated gelatin.
Fin ◆moves to the side to get out of the way and put some distance between himself and the ooze. He also ◆pulls out one of the flasks of bottled lightning.
The moment they enter, Niss's hand covers her mouth in horror at the sight of the victim, eyes going wide as the ooze forms. She winces as it surges forward.
"It's slow, stay away from it and keep moving!" She takes her own advice and moves across the room, then casts with everything she's got, swirling the air around the orc and the ooze, little rocky shards of debris whipping around them in the air and pelting both targets.
Finoan recalls nothing about the ooze in relation to occult practices that he's familiar with. He gets the sense that this is probably more alchemical in nature and he's meowing up the wrong tree, as it were.
While the damage seems as effective as it usually is, the ooze can take quite a bit and shakes off some of the damage from Niss's rends.
The Sculptor moves behind and around the ooze, targeting Drake with a bottle of moderate alchemist's fire. He misses, the bomb bouncing strangely off of the wall and into the doorway, burning ineffectively. He then tries again with another. The second bomb hits its mark, exploding onto Drake and hitting Baradim with minor splash damage. A flame grows on Drake's sleeve, threatening to spread and keep burning him.
Baradim gazes down upon the monstrous creature, the ooze composed of gore and crimson life. Flashbacks of Vigil returned to his mind, moving mounds of death, gore, and bone consuming the living. His body shakes but not from fear. A palpable rage infuses his very being as he turns his attention towards the Sculptor, a roar leaving him as he rushes down towards the man. Lifting his shield as he moves, protecting himself from any strange and errant tentacles that may emergy from the amorphous blob, he closes the distance and strikes deep against the man.
"Oh, lovely. So it's a mad alchemist slaver, living in a cavern, in a blight, behind an illustration of the town on fire. I feel as though there should be a painted sign that says 'A bad guy lives here'."
Shaking his head at the scene before him, "You are not kidding about that, Niss." Drake draws a hatchet and a hammer, ready to face whatever insanity they are about to encounter.
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With a look of horror upon his face, "You have GOT to be kidding me. Okay, Baradim, you can take that guy's head if you want. He's a freaking sicko."
Just as he's about to launch his axe at the blood beast, he finds his clothing catch on fire. Deal with that in a minute. Putting his full focus on the blob, he launches his hatchet and the tries to pat out his sleeve that's on fire.
He then uses his free hand to quickly pat the fire out.
Baradim’s sword pierces the alchemist and stabs him deep in the belly, just centimeters shy of a more horrible wound.
Drake’s hatchet plants right into the Blood Ooze, causing more…blood? To ooze out of it, but it quickly clots over and heals itself.
The Blood Ooze lumbers forward, leaving a disgusting trail of blood and slime behind it, and two strange, octopus-like tentacles form in the muck. One lashes out at Drake and the other at...the Sculptor?
"Uh, Niss. You might need to go rescue your boyfriend again. Let's see if I can distract this blood horror. Trying to revive Drake while that blob is right there too doesn't sound like fun." Fin casts ◆◆ Produce Flame and ◆ Shield.
"Hey blob boy. This way."
two strange, octopus-like tentacles form in the muck. One lashes out at Drake and the other at...the Sculptor?
"We've got a real life genius here."
"Hey, genius guy. I don't suppose you put any amount of thought into how to control this blood monster after you created it, did you?"
"Because if you did, now would be the time to pull that out. If you call off your pet before Drake dies, Niss might leave you alive."
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No no no not again...
Niss watched Drake collapse to the ground, hearing the crunch of bone from over here, and it seemed like the world shifted into slow motion as her dreams unraveled into nightmares.
This thing, this abomination, would not take him from her.
She channeled her panic into something more productive. Cutting the thing seemed ineffective. She'd give it a taste of its own medicine. She lifted the entire table the man had been strapped to and flipped it over and down onto the ooze like a massive mousetrap.
Her power still surging, she sought Drake's consciousness.
"Waking is going to hurt, my love. Drink a potion, I can help more soon."
"I did specify 'might', right?" Fin mutters under his breath as he watches the table, corpse and all, go flying across the room and slam into the giant blood blister.
Finoan's fire hits the Ooze and burns away at some of it, releasing a coppery, caustic smell into the air.
Niss's act of desperation proves effective: the table, the corpse still strapped to it, slams into the Blood Ooze and jerks it back away from Drake to protect him. The disgusting, gelatinous mass retracts within itself a bit, gurgling slightly on the impact, another disgusting trail of blood and gore left in its wake.
Her surge brings Drake back to life, laying prone on the ground and still bleeding.
The Sculptor doesn't acknowledge Finoan's words, just glares at the automaton. He looks around the room and takes in the situation: His foes are being handled by the Ooze, and he doesn't have to stick around and take it... especially given that the Ooze doesn't seem able to distinguish friend from foe.
The Sculptor just runs, past Baradim, past the prone Drake, and through the doors...Drake can barely see the Sculptor turning right, heading towards what you all assumed was a dead end.
"And a coward to boot."
Fin calls out to Baradim, "Can you go chase him down before he gets away? I really don't feel like chasing him around the countryside."
"Niss, Drake, how about you two go somewhere a bit safer to recover a bit. I'll see about kiting this slow blood pudding around a bit, then follow."
"No one gets out on my watch!" Baradim shouts at the Sculptor as the man begins to run by, lowering his shield down enough to take a swing at the man.
Baradim cannot take the time to see if his blow slays the hideous Sculptor, turning his attention instead towards the bloody ooze. He had seen how it resisted a blade so easily, healing itself well, but knocking chunks out of it seemed to work well enough. He rushes to Drake's side, dropping his sword on the ground beside him and reaching down for the hammer on his hip.
"I need this for a moment, friend. Get up and rest." Baradim muttered. The hammer was light and lacked the weight that Baradim preferred but it was a simple enough weapon. With a narrow glare, he turned towards the ooze and approached with shield and hammer ready. He strikes with an overhead blow, aiming to split the beast in half.
The Sculptor grunts at the sword blow but manages to continue slipping past, holding the wound from the swing. He looks as though he might retort, but sees the look on Baradim's face and thinks the better of it, limping around the corner and away.
Baradim's blow hits the Blood Ooze hard and splashes disgusting, slimy gore about the room as it hits.
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Relieved he managed to put out the fire, he looks over at Niss and smiles, giving her a wink.
What he doesn't see is the tentacle come strong toward him and slashes him hard across his body, leaving a wicked diagonal gash from shoulder to waist. His mouth moves as if trying to say something but nothing comes out but trickles of blood; and even though his eyes never leave her, Niss notices they've gone vacant as he collapses to the floor in a heap, his body completely still with the sole exception of his shallow breathing.
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No no no not again...
Niss watched Drake collapse to the ground, hearing the crunch of bone from over here, and it seemed like the world shifted into slow motion as her dreams unraveled into nightmares.
This thing, this abomination, would not take him from her.
She channeled her panic into something more productive. Cutting the thing seemed ineffective. She'd give it a taste of its own medicine. She lifted the entire table the man had been strapped to and flipped it over and down onto the ooze like a massive mousetrap.
Her power still surging, she sought Drake's consciousness.
"Waking is going to hurt, my love. Drink a potion, I can help more soon."
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Sitting in a chair right outside of... his home? Drake enjoys the bright, clear crisp morning and it's serenity. A cool breeze blows from out of the south as he listens to the birds singing. Taking a drink of his morning coffee, he looks to his left and sees Niss standing right there. Startled, he spills the coffee across his chest, from shoulder to waist, almost in a perfect diagonal manner. Oddly enough, the spill seems to spread in a predetermined manner before instantly stopping. Looking down at the mess he's made, he just shrugs it off before cutting his attention back to Niss. "Wow, Niss, you snuck up on me. I never even heard you. You just continue to impress me with all the things you can do, sweetheart." He smiles. "I put the fire out. Did you see that?" Drake furrows his brow at his own question, not really sure of the point behind it.
Smiling pleasantly, Niss bends down and puts her right arm around his back and her left hand upon his shoulder near her before giving him a kiss on the cheek and saying sweetly, "Waking is going to hurt, my love. Drink a potion, I can help more soon..."
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Eyes snapping open, the pain from his front being torn open registers in full force. "OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH GODS!!!"
He rushes to Drake's side, dropping his sword on the ground beside him and reaching down for the hammer on his hip.
"I need this for a moment, friend. Get up and rest." Baradim muttered. The hammer was light and lacked the weight that Baradim preferred but it was a simple enough weapon. With a narrow glare, he turned towards the ooze and approached with shield and hammer ready. He strikes with an overhead blow, aiming to split the beast in half.
Nodding emphatically and speaking through pained breath, "Take it! Take it! Be careful, Baradim! That thing doesn't mess around!" Drawing a potion from his pack, he pops it open and downs it before tossing the empty bottle aside. "Oh gods. That was worthless."
The ranger then forces himself to rise, preparing to move away from the beast.
The Blood Ooze lumbers slowly around from Baradim, but still close to the orc . It grows one more strange, disgusting appendage and lashes out at Baradim.
Finoan watches with trepidation as the blood blob clobbers Baradim even through his shield. "Yeah, we really need to kite this thing. Pull back Niss. We should be able to take it down from a distance."
"Speaking of distance, it looks like chasing genius across the countryside is going to be a thing after all."
Fin does a 3-legged run out of the room and throws the flask of lightning at the fleeing Orc.
Niss watched in horror as Baradim falls under the blob's assault. Drake was still hurt and bleeding, Fin ran to wisely get some distance, but she couldn't follow and leave Baradim lying there alone. She couldn't manhandle the blob like she did with the orc -- it was too big. She knew a way to ram it pretty far away with a burst of force, but she could feel her reserves depleting. Doing so would leave her unable to heal anyone.
Fin was right that running and kiting it was the safest bet -- but Baradim and Drake were bleeding, and needed to see to their wounds, which wouldn't leave much time for running. The second best option was to kill this thing quickly. But doing so, and rousing Baradim would leave her no time to run further away. Her burst of power was a tenuous thing as well, and soon she'd be much less helpful.
She looked at Baradim again, bleeding out on the ground.
She would stand behind him, as she always did.
She lifted the table again, less forcefully as her strength waned. She angled it to push the foul thing west, away from them all somewhat.
She was close to burning out her power, and could feel her grip slipping. She channeled every last bit of it into Baradim, waking him, giving him a fighting chance.
Then the crippling headache and exhaustion set in all at once and it was all she could do to stay standing. "Run, both of you. If it hits you again I might not be able to save you. I'll be right behind you. Go!"
The blob begins to move and Baradim sacrifices his defenses to try and hammer in another hard blow against the gelatinous blob.
The blow doesn't connect as successfully as he wants but before he could react, the blob whips around with an incredible amount of force. It catches the orc across the face, tearing at his throat, and stumbling him back. There was no time for words; it was Baradim's sheer toughness that kept his head connected to his body. Blackness takes him before he can even hit the ground.
The darkness seemed to swallow everything as pain numbed away but that foreign yet welcome warmth resonated through his mind. It reminded him of the weight hanging from his neck and the new weights that hung from his heart. To the orc's credit, he wearily pushed himself up and off of the ground.
Blood spilled out of his mouth unbidden as he rose upwards shakily, eyes unfocused for a moment before Niss's voice broke him out of his confusion. He reaches into his belt, pulling out the potion he had purchased from Tamli and the caravan. He drank down the delicious liquid, feeling his aches soothe and even his wound close up some.
"Right." Baradim grunts, tossing away the bottle to the side and looking at the disgusting blood undulate before him. "I ain't done yet." The wound's bleeding slowly stopped as the warrior held both hammer and shield ready for combat.
"Run, both of you. If it hits you again I might not be able to save you. I'll be right behind you. Go!"
Finoan turns and looks back at the room with the blood blob and sees Baradim slowly stagger back to a standing position from the floor. And doesn't see Niss leaving the room. "No, I really didn't."
"Well, plan B then."
Finoan's bomb misses The Sculptor, but the splash damage hits him as he continues bolting out the secret door and running as far as he can.
Baradim takes advantage of an opening that the Blood Ooze leaves as it slowly schlorps its way toward the center of those left in the room, slamming the hammer into the ooze. Just after, the table slams into the ooze and shoves it back a tad.
Finoan's bomb misses The Sculptor, but the splash damage hits him as he continues bolting out the secret door and running as far as he can.
Fin sees the Orc leave, but doesn't pay much attention.
I'll get to you later.
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Looking over at Niss, the ranger smiles a pained smile. "You know I can never leave you, Niss. Never." He gives her a wink just before coughing up more blood as he continues to bleed out.
Drake then turns his attention back to his hunted prey and his smile instantly fades. Not wasting another moment, Drake launches hammer after hammer after hammer after hammer, roaring in anger as he gives it everything he has.
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Watching one hammer after another strike true, Drake chuckles as the blood blob just gets blasted. "TAKE THAT!!! Oh gods take that you freakish abomination." The ranger falls to his knees in exhaustion, staring at the ground and trying to catch his breath.
The ooze is slow, so when Drake bursts into action, it's not hard to hit the sanguine slime. His hammers strike true, over and over and over - bursting two of the biggest blood-bubbles on its body. Partially clotted blood pours forth from the wounds, letting out with it a horrid, coppery scent that fills the room. The blood bubble collapses within itself and dissolves into a vile puddle.
In the distance, you can hear the sound of someone running, fading rapidly. The Sculptor is escaping.
"Ah, excellent. Looks like plan A is available again." Fin looks back at the doorway that the creepy Orc just fled through.
As he takes off running, he calls over his shoulder at the others, "I trust you can avoid dying while I am gone now that there is nothing left trying to kill you."
Finoan tears through the bone room, slides around the corners of the corridor a bit, and bursts out into the open area in the cavern. "Leaving so soon? Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
”Seriously?” The Sculptor mutters, darting forward even more to attempt to escape the pursuing automaton. He disappears into the tunnel leading out to the courtyard where the stone horse’s corpse still lay, bubbling within the acidic pool. The Sculptor skids around the body of the stone horse, heading toward where the bramble iris had been before.
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Finoan easily keeps pace with the fleeing Orc, though he is not quite fast enough to also attack. So he instead settles for loping along behind.
"Yes, seriously. Where are we going? Is there a special lady in your life that you are hurrying back to?"
"You know, I don't have many friends. I take quite a bit of offense at you nearly killing them."
"And you know what else. I can literally keep chasing you all day. You, on the other hand, are going to need to stop eventually to eat or sleep or pee."
"Well, maybe not that last one. But it will chafe horribly to run in wet pants."
"Mi a fene ez..." The Sculptor grumbles in Orcish, pulling a tanglefoot bag out and lobbing it at Finoan.
The orc barks with laughter and then continues running.
"Well, that's a cute and annoying trick."
Fin pulls out and throws a bomb of his own.
"You go on ahead, I'll catch up. Don't worry about me."
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Niss winces from her headache and looks towards Baradim, reassuring herself he was alright. Then she stumbles to Drake and sinks down on her knees before him, taking in the sight of the horrific gash across his chest. She fights through her pain and exhaustion to expend one last bit of power in order to heal him, hands hovering over the injury as she wills his body to repair itself.
The exertion leaves her shaking, but she watches the gaping wound close and become little more than a large bruise around a fresh scar. Tentatively, not wanting to hurt him, she wraps her arms around him and hugs him. She didn't have to say anything. She knew he could feel her intense relief that he was okay. But she spoke anyway.
"Let's take a day off tomorrow, hmm? One day, with no one nearly dying. How about it?"
She knew there was a villain to run down. But she was exhausted, slow, and unlikely to catch him. Besides, the last time she'd chased their quarry, she'd fallen in a streaming puddle of 'mud'. He was in Fin's hands now.
The Sculptor nimbly dodges the bomb and continues running, making it past the entrance to the blighted forest for just a moment before Finoan hears him shout with frustration. The orc has triggered a classic trap: a net, hidden under some leaves, that scoops the orc up leaves him dangling in the trees.
After a moment, Noala emerges from the forest edge, cackling a little bit at the sight of the orc in the net, but only after she confirms it isn't Baradim she had caught. "Well, then. Trying to run, are we? Kebbek warned me about you."
Finoan disentangles himself from the tanglefoot bomb and saunters over to Noala. He calls up to the Orc now dangling in the air, "Oh, I completely forgot to mention - we also brought backup. Sorry. Totally slipped my mind."
"Where's the rest of your crew, Finoan?" Noala asks, casually turning the conversation away from The Sculptor, letting the man hang there unacknowledged for a while. "Do you want to just..." Noala makes a stabbing motion, jerking her thumb toward the orc-in-a-bag, "or leave him up there for a few minutes?"
"They are catching up. They wanted to do things like stop bleeding first."
He looks up at the captured foe. "I probably shouldn't. I can't have all the fun. Leave him there for now."
"Are you able to handle keeping him here on your own? I want to go back and bring everyone else here too. But be careful, he likes to throw explosives and probably still has several on him."
Noala gives The Sculptor sharp poke with two fingers, eliciting a sharp yelp from the orc. Noala grins at Fin, nodding her head. "He's held too tightly to do much of anything, but yes - I can handle him, and I will be careful. You be careful, too."
"OK, Noala. I'll leave him to you."
Finoan hurries back to the rest of the group at the caverns.
The blob falls apart, breaking down into a coagulated mess that fills the air with the coppery taste of blood. Baradim watches the two of them embrace in relief, his adrenaline finally coming to an end as he let out a sigh of relief.
"I hope Finoan is alright. That Sculptor must be brought to justice." The orc says, returning the hammer to Drake before picking up and sheathing his magical blade.
He leaves the chamber where the ooze had formed to Finoan to look over, the automaton was more educated in such things than him. His attention instead turns towards the room they had pushed through in pursuit of their enemy. There were secrets to be had and information to learn.
Niss winces from her headache and looks towards Baradim, reassuring herself he was alright. Then she stumbles to Drake and sinks down on her knees before him, taking in the sight of the horrific gash across his chest. She fights through her pain and exhaustion to expend one last bit of power in order to heal him, hands hovering over the injury as she wills his body to repair itself.
The exertion leaves her shaking, but she watches the gaping wound close and become little more than a large bruise around a fresh scar. Tentatively, not wanting to hurt him, she wraps her arms around him and hugs him. She didn't have to say anything. She knew he could feel her intense relief that he was okay. But she spoke anyway.
"Let's take a day off tomorrow, hmm? One day, with no one nearly dying. How about it?"
She knew there was a villain to run down. But she was exhausted, slow, and unlikely to catch him. Besides, the last time she'd chased their quarry, she'd fallen in a streaming puddle of 'mud'. He was in Fin's hands now.
Placing his hands upon her arm, he pats it as he leans his head up against hers, letting out a tired chuckle. "I think that's a fine idea, my dear sweet Niss. A fine idea," he agrees wholeheartedly, grinning.
The blob falls apart, breaking down into a coagulated mess that fills the air with the coppery taste of blood. Baradim watches the two of them embrace in relief, his adrenaline finally coming to an end as he let out a sigh of relief.
"I hope Finoan is alright. That Sculptor must be brought to justice." The orc says, returning the hammer to Drake before picking up and sheathing his magical blade.
He leaves the chamber where the ooze had formed to Finoan to look over, the automaton was more educated in such things than him. His attention instead turns towards the room they had pushed through in pursuit of their enemy. There were secrets to be had and information to learn.
Too tired to move and with no real desire to go anywhere, especially with Niss's arms around him, Drake accepts the hammer and nods. "Thanks, Baradim. Glad to see you're okay. And I'm pretty confident that Fin is okay as well. And I also wouldn't be surprised if he caught the Sculptor. I'd be more surprised if he didn't. He's pretty tenacious."
About ten minutes after he left the cavern hideout chasing the Sculptor, Finoan returns. He sees Baradim searching through the area. "Good to see you still up and about." He goes farther into the torture chamber. "And you too," he says to Drake and Niss.
"That was quite the blob. Our genius friend got snagged by Noala. She has him hanging around right now. I figured I should save him for you guys to finish off."
"We should probably question him. He's our only link to Vilree. And I think there are still more of his mutant animals to deal with. If we rest until tomorrow, I can try helping the cat Kebbek told us about in the morning. I'm afraid I'm all spent at present. "