Seeing a clear target, Halrod quickly fires his bow.
Abandoning her act, Phoebe turns around and winces at the outbreak of violence, of weapons crashing into bodies and blood spraying the hallway of what had only yesterday been the site of a great celebration. Then she she swallows her fear and begins singing a tune of Satyrs outsmarting enemies and overcoming great hardship - interrupted only to quickly blast the assassins in between.
The first blow from Nidintu-Bel's maul drops his first opponent, but the second one dodges out of the way, only to be stunned a moment later by Lani's magic and dropped by Halrod's arrow.
Clementine moves into the gap left by Nidintu and strikes a heroic-but-still-defensive pose on the body of a fallen assassin. “Avast, ye vermin! The cleaning crew has come for you!” He points his whip at the red-garbed invader to remove any confusion over who he is addressing.
The target of Clementine's quip simply snorts. "In these parts, we clean with fire." He throws something at Nidintu-bel, which shatters on the tiles with a whoosh of flame, but fortunately his aim is poor and the fighter is only singed a little.
However, his crossbow aim is much better, and a bolt finds its way to its intended target.
His companion fires their own crossbow, stopping to reload before firing again. His bolt flies true, striking the warrior in a vulnerable spot before he has time to react and duck.
Before they are able to do much else, however, Phoebe sends a spell sparking between them. Their bodies seize up, shudder, and drop to the ground.
Wide-eyed, Phoebe looks between both fallen enemies to her hands and back again. "I guess it's a forbidden spell for a reason..." She mutters - before seeing the extent of Nidintu's wounds. "Oh no! Here, um, hold still!" She calls to him and attempts to heal the worst of it through magic, figuring there was little time waste with who knew how many other enemies still abound, and how many other people could still be saved...
Roots stands ready to jump into the fray! The small Root leshy watches as each of his fey friends fly and fight this visit from assassins!!
Hoping from vine-foot to vine-foot in antsy anticipation for just the most opportune moment, Roots readies to....
Well shit and frog piss!
The poor Root leshy curses his slowness....
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Nidintu gasps in pain and staggers back, collapsing against the wall as the crossbow bolt sinks into his side. As Phoebe heals him, he looks up at the nymph in gratitude. "Thank you, Miss Phoebe. I very likely owe you my life."
Getting to his feet, he looks in mild surprise between the scorched bodies of the assassins and the seemingly peace-loving naiad who just killed them. At the mention of forbidden spells, he raises an eyebrow and makes a mental note - not a topic for an undefended position in hostile territory, but likely a query for a calmer time.
He looks down at the dead man at his feet, a degree of sorrow entering his features as he sees the arrow through the miscreant's chest. This loss of life saddens me. This man tried to kill us, but who can say that I would not have done the same were I still a bandit? How can I deny these miscreants the chance at redemption I was given?
His gaze shifts to the cutthroat who fell to his maul, kneeling and examining the prone thug. "This one's alive... I think. I didn't hit him that hard." He peers at the man's wound, nodding as he confirms his analysis. "I don't envy him the headache he'll have on awakening, but he should pull through." The warrior begins disarming the unconscious assassin of all visible weapons. "Perhaps our new friend here can tell us more about this attack. He will likely be recalcitrant, but I'm sure we can persuade him through some means or another - after all, he has nothing except the information we desire, while we have weapons, numbers, and the means to remove his restraints. On that topic, I have some rope with me - unless any of you have a more effective means of holding him?"
Like the other thugs, these four have the tattoos under their left eye and on their right forearm, wear studded leather and carry daggers and hand crossbows.
Everyone but the distracted leshy notices fresh chips in the base of the statue standing in the stream, as if someone has been striking it with a sharp object. On closer inspection, a barely visible seam indicates some sort of hidden compartment. Pushing on the area, a small section of the statue's base moves inward with a muffled click, from where it can be easily slid sideways to allow access to the submerged compartment.
Inside there is a small cache of clearly labeled potions, and a small bronze key tied to a hook in the wall. The potions are four minor healing, one barkskin, and a lesser potion of fire resistance.
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Roots stands guard duty, as apparently everyone else seems to be splashing and playing in the fountain.
The Root leshy seems to be staring at a cricket that is seemingly about to make its move....
"Thank you, Miss Phoebe. I very likely owe you my life."
The naiad looks up at the gigantic warrior with a look of embarassed surprise. "O-oh, um, you're welcome? Don't worry about it, really. We're a team, aren't we? What was the Taldane expression again... 'you watch my snack, I'll watch yours'?"
"Perhaps our new friend here can tell us more about this attack. He will likely be recalcitrant, but I'm sure we can persuade him through some means or another - after all, he has nothing except the information we desire, while we have weapons, numbers, and the means to remove his restraints. On that topic, I have some rope with me - unless any of you have a more effective means of holding him?"
"Are we going to wait that long, though?" Phoebe responds."We'd have to expend very valuable magic or some of these healing potions to get him back to consciousness quickly. But even then, talking to him is going to take a lot of time. These are assassins out to kill presumably everyone here. Should we not press on to see whoever we can while the other survivors, if any, last?"
What was the Taldane expression again... 'you watch my snack, I'll watch yours'?
Nidintu furrows his brow in confusion. "I confess I cannot see the logic of that idiom, nor how it could possibly apply to the current situation."
Are we going to wait that long, though? We'd have to expend very valuable magic or some of these healing potions to get him back to consciousness quickly. But even then, talking to him is going to take a lot of time. These are assassins out to kill presumably everyone here. Should we not press on to see whoever we can while the other survivors, if any, last?
After a moment of thought, Nidintu nods. "Ideally, I think that knowing who we're dealing with here might help us save more in the long run, but it's not as if he would likely talk, even if he were conscious. Let's save what lives we can and worry about our prisoner later."
The warrior begins restraining the unconscious thug with rope.
After he is done with that, he will move to the doors at the other end of the garden and listen for noise on the other side.
Deciding to ask questions later, the fae pack restrain the one assailant still breathing, stashing him in a bush for later. Nidintu-Bel rests an ear against the closed door, hearing the reverberations of powerful impacts nearby and the muffled, indistinct roaring of a deep voice.
The hallway beyond the door is slightly less fine than the one outside their guest chambers. Polished marble makes way to cream-coloured flagstones, now marred by splatters and pools of blood, and the fine tapestries with hunting scenes are replaced by fabric painted simply with scenes of harvest and food preparation.
The bodies of six of Lady Jamandi's guards and three of the mysterious tattooed, black-clad attackers lie in the hallway. More importantly, the roaring voice is coming through a closed door on the right, punctuated by the sound of something heavy impacting the furniture and the walls.
"Where are you, halfling? I'll rip you to little bits!"
"I confess I cannot see the logic of that idiom, nor how it could possibly apply to the current situation."
His confusion is mirrored. "You know, to stop eachother from being eaten - I think? The satyrs always insisted that was correct." She says, blissfully innocent of the implications of being pranked for who knows how long.
"Where are you, halfling? I'll rip you to little bits!"
"'Halfling?' Oh no! Linzi is in trouble. Quick - we have to help her!" She urges. "She's such a good musician!" She calls, and helps looking around for a safe path to her assailant.
Roots' blue eyes widen at the clear sounds of violence coming from the door down the littered hall.
The Root leshy Raises his Shield and hurries to said door, opens it and screams
Roots-Sink-Deep opens the door to what seems to be a modest library, although the large ogre currently rampaging inside seems to have turned it something else entirely. Books are spilling out from the ruined shelves, the reading chairs are broken and overturned, and the reading table has been smashed in half by a powerful blow.
The ogre roars again, turning at the noise behind him. "More would-be heroes? Come, then! Gromog will kill you, too!" He swings his hook towards the door, and it passes a good two feet over the leshy's head as Gromog seems to have some difficulty seeing - perhaps on account of the bloody slash running across both his eyes.
A small figure recognizable as the halfling bard they had met earlier at the feast peeks from behind an overturned, padded chair leaning against the northwestern wall, mouthing to Roots-Sink Deep.
Help. Me.
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Nidintu's eyes widen as he takes in the carnage present in the library, then narrow as he focuses on the ogre in the center of the room.
"More would-be heroes? Come, then! Gromog will kill you, too!"
Spitting an Abyssal curse between his teeth, he charges into the fray.
Having closed the gap between himself and Gromog, the tiefling begins shouting at the ogre, trying to draw his attention away from Linzi as he aims a pair of powerful blows at the giant. "Hey, dimwit! Why don't you pick on someone you can outsmart for a change? A potted plant should be about your speed!"
Roots watches as the wicked-looking hook sails just over his vine-haired head!
Whomever gave you that gash is my friend forever!
The druid then waves at the ugly ogre before calling on Nature to light his arse up!
Tempest Surge
He Raises His Shield!
"We wee folk have to stick together," Lani says when she sees Linzi in trouble. She calls on her patron's fervor to inspire Nidintu before attempting to daze the ogre!
"That's right!" Clementine adds, sliding between folk's legs and dashing into the ogre's shadow. "Stick together and stick it to the man!"
But just in case it starts stomping, he puts his acorn cap up defensively.
Halrod likes Linzi's spirit and is furious with anyone who wants to kill the little halfling. He doesn't bother with speech, but simply employs the ancient elven greeting to all ogrekin.
Halrod is the first to react, sending two arrows into Gromog, to join the crossbow bolts already embedded in the ogre's body, while Nidintu-Bel wastes no time in swinging his maul into the side of Gromog's knee, which crunches audibly as the ogre roars in pain.
Lani's magic befuddles Gromog for a bit, but the ogre shrugs off the effect of the miniature storm conjured by Roots-Sink-Deep. Clementine's words don't seem to make an impression, either.
Seeing the rest of the team move in, Phoebe follows them and casts a spell the ogre!
Phoebe's spell singes Gromog, who begins to recover from the overwhelming array of both mundane and magical attacks.
The ogre begins to scratch furiously at his armpits and groin, roaring in pain and frustration. Those very close to him can spot tiny black dots swarming the filthy furs he wears. Cursing in a harsh, guttural language, he swings his hook blindly in front of him, narrowly missing Nidintu-Bel.
Behind him, Linzi shouts. "You're doing great! You almost have him!" The halfling clears her throat, then begins to sing.
"Oh, brave adventurers, heed the call,
Stand strong and proud, one and all.
With weapons drawn and magic ablaze,
Defeat the ogre, in battle's blaze.
Unleash your skills, both fierce and true,
Together, there's nothing you cannot do.
With blades and spells, the victory's nigh,
Defeat the ogre, let courage fly high!"
"Leave my friend alone, you! Go and... pick on someone of your own size! Yes, that means finding one first, preferably far away from here!"
After casting again, she tries to inch closer to the halfling. "Linzi! Are you all right!? Is anyone else here?" she quickly asks her in between the fighting. "...Nice tune, by the way. Modified Neruda?"
Pretty spry for a wh...err....ogre!
The Druid then laughs in delight as he watches electricity Arc from Phoebe at the ugly ogre! He tries it and Raises his Shield.
As his friends' electrical attacks arc around him, Nidintu continues snarling insults at the ogre, attempting to keep his attention from Linzi and the other members of the fae pack. "You call that a strike? You couldn't hurt a fly if you tried! Lā šaplu mūdû abiti, I say to you!"
The fighter swings at the ogre again, then unleashes an especially powerful blow with his maul, trying to bring the fight to a close.
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Linzi shouts from behind her chair cover. "Neruda? As if I'd take inspiration from something so derivative! I'm alright though, and..."
The halfling's head inches from behind the chair just as Gromog collapses heavily to the floor, chest caved in by Nidintu-Bel's powerful blow.
"...no, there isn't anyone else here." Linzi grins triumphantly as she emerges. "Thank you for that, heroes! I got a lucky hit in, but then he trapped me in here. I don't know how much longer I would have lasted." She whirls to Nidintu-Bel. "And wow, you were amazing! Like, pow! and then POW!. You were all amazing, and you work well together!"
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Nidintu nods to Linzi. "My thanks, Miss Linzi, and I would like to add that I found your improvisation skills particularly impressive. Are you unharmed? We have healing potions if necessary." He kneels to examine the ogre - careful not to touch the fallen giant, however, remembering the parasites swarming his erstwhile foe's equipment. "We have managed to clear the space from here back to the east wing suites, if you wish to remain there until we have secured this area. I fear we may be among the only survivors of this assault - do you happen to have any knowledge of the fate of your roommates?"
Finishing his examination of the ogre, Nidintu sets about examining the damage to the library's books, picking up the tomes scattered haphazardly around the floor and placing them in neat stacks or on what bookshelves remain in an attempt to spare them any further damage, muttering to himself as he works. "Such a shame... so much knowledge lost..."
After a moment, however, he freezes, reminded of the insults he used to distract the ogre during the battle. The towering tiefling turns to the rest of the party, a sheepish look on his face. "I'm afraid that some of the language I used during the battle was a bit... harsh. I get slightly carried away during combat - I trust none of you understand the Abyssal tongue?"
Phoebe laughs at Linzi's antics, a lighthearted, almost musical sound starkly contrasted against all the death and destruction surrounding the group. "Thanks, Linzi. Do you want to tag along with us? We have no idea how many of them are left and whether leaving the building safely is even possible. It seems to me like there's strength in numbers. Plus we'd get to perform in a duet together!" She adds excitedly.
After a moment, however, he freezes, reminded of the insults he used to distract the ogre during the battle. The towering tiefling turns to the rest of the party, a sheepish look on his face. "I'm afraid that some of the language I used during the battle was a bit... harsh. I get slightly carried away during combat - I trust none of you understand the Abyssal tongue?"
"No, not really," the Naiad admits, slightly sheepishly. "But it did sound really impressive, whatever it was! It's sure to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, I'd say." She responds, just before her face, too, falls at the sight of the destroyed library. She balls her fists and huffs. "We'll get them for this and the murders both!"
Linzi's whole face lights up as Phoebe offers the halfling to accompany the group. "You bet I'll come with you! Not just for safety, but to record your heroic deeds for posterity!" She shakes her head at Nidintu-Bel's questions. "I'm not hurt, and I'm not sure what happened to my roommates. I was a in a room with Valerie, Amiri and Harrim, we got woken up by noises and we were checking things out, but then we couldn't agree in which direction to go, so we separated." Linzi's features crease with concern. "I hope they're alright..."
Roots eyes the down ogre with disgust. The Druid then stays in the Hall, waiting to see which way they proceed.
We should collect her roommates.
"Have you any idea where any of them headed?" asks Halrod, agreeing with Roots.
Linzi points down the corridor, to the southwest, where several other doors are visible,. "That way, I think. Valerie was trying to find Lady Jamandi."
Recalling their passage through the manor the previous evening, that is where the Great Hall lies.
Roots gives the halfling bard a crisp, leafy Salute, Raises his Shield, and starts off toward the Great Hall!
He seems to be wearing his mean face!
Nidintu picks up his maul. "We've little time to lose. Let's see if we can push on to the Great Hall." He strides down the hallway, pausing occasionally to push open the doors lining the walls and do a cursory check in each.
The warrior steps up to the westernmost door and presses his pointed ear to the crack between the door and the doorjamb, listening for any guards that may stand between them and their destination.
Nidintu-Bel's careful search uncovers a secret door in the western wall of the library (what kind of a library would it be without a secret door!). Upon pressing the hidden mechanism, one of the bookcases pivots smoothly, revealing a small, windowless room beyond. The only furnishing present is a large wooden trunk secured with a formidable-looking padlock. A second secret door, obvious from this side, opens to the south into a storage room, its shelves stocked with everything necessary for running the estate, including oil lamps, bed linens, candles, tools and supplies.
Across the hall from the library lies a large room that must be the servants' quarters. Two rows of beds are arranged against the wall, now in disarray as their bedding lies torn and bloody. The bodies of five people still lie in them, likely murdered in their sleep. The small wooden chests at the foot of each bed have been opened and their contents are scattered about on the floor - mostly clothes and personal items of the room's occupants. Another body lies slumped over the oak table at one end of the room, a bloody stab wound in their back.
The room next door to the servants' quarters is small, but comfortably furnished with a bed, a rocking chair, and a small side table with three chairs. An overturned wooden chest lies in the middle of the room amidst a tangle of discarded clothing and personal items. A Varisian scarf, bright purple with red, orange and yellow embroidery lies across the back of the rocking chair.
It is mostly quiet on the other side of the westernmost door as Nidintu-Bel leans his ear against it, although he can faintly distinguish a very quiet, rhythmic sound of laboured breathing, punctuated here and there with a gurgling cough.
Unaware of what Nidinitu hears, Halrod examines the slain, looking for any signs of something that might identify the killer or killers.
The dead servants all bear stabbing or slashing wounds consistent with the daggers carried by the black-cloaked assailants. One of them is still wearing a pendant around his neck on a thin silver chain, a polished wooden heart with the symbol of Erastil carved on the back.
Blue leshy eyes brimming with tears, Roots-Sink-Deep gently takes the thin silver chain, a polished wooden heart with the symbol of Erastil carved on the back. The Druid reverently offers a prayer to Erastil, as he closes the staring dead eyes of a former sister in Nature.
Standing, a grim and deadly serious look his his reddened blue eyes, the Root leshy goes straight to the grand hall doors to barge in!
Let's move on.
Nidintu moves over to the servants' quarters, unaware of the reason for his friend's tardiness. "Roots, are you coming? I thought I heard..." He falters for a moment as he spots the dead staff and the praying Roots, then motions the rest of the party over to the doors.
"Someone is breathing heavily on the other side of that door - probably injured, but whether friend or foe is impossible to say. In either case, the Great Hall is on the other side of those doors, and we need to keep moving forward - whether to rescue a wounded ally..." The warrior pauses, remembering the massacred servants and guards scattered throughout this wing, before continuing with greater fervor. "...or to slay a scoundrel too cowardly to let his opponents die with blade in hand!"
Before the elf takes his place in front of the door, throwing it open to face the uncertain figure beyond, he takes a moment to whisper a swift prayer for the souls of the murdered staff. "May Erastil guide you to peace in Heaven."
The door opens into a large space that looks like a scullery. Two large, sturdy tables, their surface scored by hundreds of scratches and cuts, occupy the center of the room. In one corner there is a huge tin washbasin for cleaning dishes and laundering clothes, and a hefty wooden bucket for hauling water. Shelves full of goblets, plates, dishes and eating utensils line the walls, their fragile contents miraculously undamaged, despite the violent confrontation that obviously took place here.
Bloody corpses are piled in the middle of the room, while others still lie where they fell. A dozen of Lady Jamandi's guards are dead, together with five of the adventurers invited to the feast - three male humans, a female half-orc, and a female halfling with elven heritage.
The double doors on the far side are closed, and sitting with his back to them is the only living person in the room - a towering giant with blue skin and a long, bushy white beard visible below his half helm. He is bleeding from dozens of wounds, his body riddled with crossbow bolts. His left arm is sliced to the bone, a brutal injury. He raises his head as the far door opens, reaching for a huge, shattered spear that he uses as a crutch as he staggers to his feet, clenching his bare fists in readiness.
Nidintu hefts his maul in both hands as he spots the blue-skinned giant seemingly readying himself for battle. "Friend or foe of Lady Jamandi?"
His eyes soften as he notices the giant's grievous wound, and his tail twitches back and forth as he thinks. I must admit, I had expected an enraged brute like the ogre we fought in the library, but this giant can barely stand, let alone wield his spear. He almost seems... tired. Quite frankly, I'm impressed he still remains conscious!
The warrior sighs, lowering his maul an inch or two. "Even if you are against us, there has been enough blood shed tonight. You're clearly wounded, and if you surrender to us, I..." Nidintu takes a deep breath, his Riverfolk upbringing making him keenly aware of the gravity of giving his word. Oathbreakers Die. That is the Second River Freedom. Can I ensure that Lady Jamandi and her staff will not attempt to execute this giant after the attack is repelled? Yet... isn't it worth taking risks in the pursuit of redemption?
After a moment, Nidintu continues to speak, his words infused with a new degree of fervor. "I swear on the spirit of Taavor Ardeth that if you surrender, I will do everything in my power to keep you from harm!"
Roots bullies his way unto the Grand Hall! The angry Root Leshy with Shield Raised, blue eyes narrowed and Nature's frury on his lips, stops just inside to state at the towering giant with blue skin and a long, bushy white beard visible below his half helm. He is bleeding from dozens of wounds, his body riddled with crossbow bolts. His left arm is sliced to the bone, a brutal injury.
Roots-Sink-Deep pauses mouth agape.....
To the side, Phoebe gently closes the eyes of the Helfling, knowing there was nothing she could do to save her - or any of her group. Anger rises in her as she recalls just how cheerful they'd all been the day before, on the eve of the celebration. How much they'd seemed to enjoy her and Linzi's music.
What had killed them all? Was it the obvious giant? He hadn't been at the party, as far as she could recall, and he would be VERY hard to miss...
"Nidintu! You're not REALLY going to let him get away with this, are you!? There were all people just like us, with friends and family with each their own passions and dreams. And he took all of that from ALL of them AND from their loved ones!"
With a quick glance, Phoebe can infer that most of the people here were killed by the giant standing before them, although some of them do bear stab and slash wounds consistent with the daggers used by the black-cloaked infiltrators.
Nidintu-Bel's words do give the giant pause, although the mention of surrender elicits a snort from him, a snort that turns into a hacking cough, and he leans over a bit to spit a mouthful of blood on the flagstones.
He responds in a deep, rumbling voice, speaking in accented Taldane. "Jurrgrindorr does not surrrenderr. But if you bind my vounds I vill not botherr you."
"Nidintu! You're not REALLY going to let him get away with this, are you!? There were all people just like us, with friends and family with each their own passions and dreams. And he took all of that from ALL of them AND from their loved ones!"
Nidintu turns his head to Phoebe, his voice apologetic but nevertheless indicative of his convictions regarding the injured giant. "I understand that, Miss Phoebe, but do you truly believe violence is the best solution? May I remind you that over the span of perhaps ten minutes we have killed no less than seven people - two of them by your own hand - all of whom possessed those same attributes? I understand that they gave us no choice, but by that same token, the simple fact that this man is willing to do so should be reason enough to offer him a chance at life."
He looks back at Jurgrindor as the giant spits blood onto the floor, his gaze lingering on the remains of his spear. However, when the giant rejects his offer of surrender, he lowers his head in resignation before turning back to Phoebe. "This Jurgrindor can barely stand, let alone fight, and he is effectively unarmed to boot. It would seem he is unwilling to surrender, but if we must fight him, might we at least try to capture him alive? As I said earlier, enough lives have been lost tonight."
Halrod looks from the giant to Nidintu and back again.
"Jurgrindor. A counter-proposal. We bind your wounds and you tell us who hired you to commit these crimes. Then, you leave and don't come back."
The giant warily nods his assent at Halrod's proposal.