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The Wrecker demons both throw their heads directly at Tandyn hissing in frustration at his resplendent aura. They move away from the party behind the lowly dretches.
Cecily growls at the profanity before her and clenches her fists. "If you think pain and death are funny, I'm going to show you scum something hilarious."
She heads in, letting the fury take hold as she slinks into her combat stance.
Having narrowly dodged the knight's head, Tandyn rushes into the room.
"More of these? You may wish to hold your breath."
He takes a deep breath and holds it.
Seeing his beautiful meat shields expertly engage the now preoccupied perpetrators, the Alchemist mossies into the room, waves at Red and...
The Blue Whisper begins cursing!
Shit! That was a f%*%ing dud! Don't judge me on that performance. I got pills here somewhere....
His eye going wide with alarm, Dorek ducks as the creatures fling the severed heads they had been playing with at the aasimar paladin behind him. Stepping forward alongside Cecily, he scowls as he stabs his cold iron blade into the stomach of one of the dretches before him. "Despoilers! We will paint the walls with your blood, as a lesson to the next nine generations!"
Thawm enters the room
"Ew!" She explains.
She takes a shot at the dretch next to Tandyn, but in her haste she shoots the ceiling instead.
"I- uh- I'll try burning their poison cloud." She adds before taking a deep breath.
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Tandyn, cheeks full of air, looks meaningfully at Cecily.
"mmm MMMMM mmmm mmm mmm mmm MMMMMM!" He clarifies respectfully.
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"Poison...? OH! EW!"
It takes a moment for Cecily to register the intent, but then she holds her breath and, furthermore, clenches her nose shut with one hand.
Tandyn and Cecily both strike true but fail to mortally wound either demon. But Dorek cleaves his dretch’s head clean off, much to the delight of the other demons who laugh hysterically.
While Ahmose’s bomb does little damage, the kobold’s icky sticky entangles all the demons.
The dretches stupidly assail Tandyn and Cecily without regard for their own safety but Cecily is far too quick for their clumsy attacks while Tandyn’s layers of steel protect him.
Aroden moves into the room while drawing his bolas. He uses Total Defense.
Ahmose shouts!
An entangled creature takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls and a –4 penalty to Dexterity and must make a Reflex save or be glued to the floor, unable to move.
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For some reason Ahmose is striken mute momentarily.
One of the abrikandilus tosses the now severed dretch head at Tandyn ineffectiually while the other gives Tandyn the stink eye to no effect.
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"MMMMM!" Tandyn orders as he brings Radiance around again at the Dretch.
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Cecily swings at the dretch in front of her with her free arm. She then attempts to swing at the other dretch with the hand clamped firmly over her nose, resulting in an awkward headbutt with her horns.
"Mrrmmm MMMRRR!"
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Tandyn and Cecily work in tandem to kill the remaining two dretches. Cecily steps forward and headbutts one of the Abrikandilus, sending it reeling backwards and into the wall.
Having done his business on the demon filth, the Alchemist ponders what he knows about the remaining ones, as he enjoys the entanglements....
As the last dretch falls, Dorek steps into the gap, slashing at the abrikandilu before him with both of his blades.
As Tandyn and Cecily try their level best to fight one-handed, he looks at the two Iomedaeans incredulously, shaking his head before getting back to the combat. "The smelly g-goblins are gone - you can stop c-choking yourselves now."
"Mmm." notes Tandyn. He begins breathing heavily to recuperate. "Now for the head chuckers..."
Ahmose begins to giggle.
Thawm exhales with relief before loading up another bolt.
Dorek carves into demon flesh but only because its movement’s were hampered by Ahmose, it
squeals in pain. Ahmose stands around making fun of the demons.
Aroden will again employ the Sword of Aroden to bless his allies.
The easternmost demon howls in frustration and makes its way towards Tandyn.
The demons are restrained again by Ahmose, robbing enough momentum from their swings as to just scrap the paladin's armor.
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As the demon steps away from him to menace Tandyn, Dorek scowls, stepping into the gap left behind. "S-stay away from our leader! He's the o-only one who actually knows how to c-crusade!"
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"S-stay away from our leader! He's the o-only one who actually knows how to c-crusade!"
Aroden lowers his sword and looks baffled at Dorek. "What are you even talking about? We all know how and are doing it!"
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"S-stay away from our leader! He's the o-only one who actually knows how to c-crusade!"
Tandyn chuckles. "You're all wonderful crusaders. How many squads can take a cultist stronghold or handle five demons?" He narrowly avoids the demons' claws and teeth. "Orders and oaths are all well and good, but this is why we're here."
Cecily lashes out with the hand that was holding her nose and takes a deep breath
"Phew! It only stinks the normal amount in here!"
She casually continues the conversation with Rage in her eyes. "Dorek, I was apprenticed to the chief of the Crusaders, you know. Before..." she continues punching. With a demon against the wall in front of her, she works on incorporating the former into the latter.
-------
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As the wrecker demon moves for a better position both Tandyn and Dorek take the chance as it leaves itself momentarily vulnerable. Dorek slides his deft blade into the creature's hunch leaving a wicked hole which bleeds dark ichor. Tandyn cleaves the monster from its head and into its neck splitting into two halves.
Not wasting any time Cecily pummels the remaining demon so hard into the wall, cracks start to form and it spurts dark fluids from its mouth before going limp.
Ahmose grins.
"Yeah, crusaders cleanse the demonic presence. With cleansing fire." Thawm explains as she fails to burn the incredibly fire-resistant demon corpses.
"That went exceptionally well." Tandyn begins hauling one of the bodies toward the shrine. "This will take a little bit. Do a quick search and then we'll regroup at that other door."
The paladin moves the other knights into the shrine along with their heads. "It was an honor to train with both of you." He grips his holy symbol a bit tighter than usual, clears his head, and begins the rites.
Tandyn approaches the northern door. "Alright. Are we ready?"
Ahmose checks himself for any clothing out of place. The Blue-scaled Kobold gives Tandyn a thumbs up.
Not a single scratch. This is going well.
The Alchemist takes position....
Desecrated Temple of Iomedae
Blood and filth smear floor of this long room. Six white stone statues of famous heroes line the hall—each clawed, bloodstained, partially smashed, or otherwise defaced. At the far end of the hall, a raised dais holds an upturned alabaster altar. Sitting atop the upside-down altar is a hideous mass of severed limbs that have been stitched together into a vile monstrous insectoid shape. Before the dais, seven ratty bedrolls have been laid out on the floor. A single door leads east.
Dorek scowls as his crimson eye sweeps the room, taking in the ruined masterpieces and the profaned altar to debauchery. "M-more butcher's work. I swear to you, T-tandyn, the ones who did this will d-die." Stepping up to the altar, he shoves the hideous amalgamation of limbs off the alabaster surface as he draws his ritual knife. Cutting a line across his heavily scarred palm, he sweeps his hand across the blood-stained surface of the altar, leaving an arc of fresh black blood against the red stains that coat the formerly pristine surface, an old Kellid battle-rite for cleansing the despoiled altars of allied gods.
Moving to the eastern door, he kneels, pressing his ear to its wood. "M-maybe Saba is in here. These c-cultists would probably keep prisoners for r-rituals later. They w-wouldn't sacrifice her now... r-right?"
Unaware, unobservant, under the influence of being unobtrusively unaffected by any outcome due to sight, sound, smell, tactile or taste, the Alchemist ponders the display with distaste.
Normally I am not an art critic, but that monstrosity makes my eyes burn.
Watching Dorek again cutting himself, the Blue-scaled Kobold begins to wonder about the Rogue's self-deprecating blood lust.
Plenty of Asshat cultists to cut you. Probably can save personal spillage for them moments.
The pragmatic Alchemist then accompanies Dorek at the Eastern door.
"M-more butcher's work. I swear to you, T-tandyn, the ones who did this will d-die." Stepping up to the altar, he shoves the hideous amalgamation of limbs off the alabaster surface as he draws his ritual knife. Cutting a line across his heavily scarred palm, he sweeps his hand across the blood-stained surface of the altar, leaving an arc of fresh black blood against the red stains that coat the formerly pristine surface, an old Kellid battle-rite for cleansing the despoiled altars of allied gods.
"Thank you Dorek. Iomedae will surely know your motives, but we do have our own methods." Tandyn starts prestidigitating.
"Huh." He traces the outline of the door with his hand. "There's something up with this place. First there was 'Let us inherit thine arms, Iomedae' and now what looks like a door. Keep your eyes open. Maybe there's something that ties it all together."
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Aroden sets about cleaning off Dorek's bloodstains from the altar. If Dorek protests, he cleans all the harder.
"I knew Her. At least I have memories of knowing Her."
It's no wonder that 'allied gods' did not come to their aid if that is how they think to show respect. Aroden aided them before against Deskari, but perhaps He was too lenient and tolerant of their barbaric ways.
As he scrubs, memories of Iomedae come to his mind. A battle-tested hero on the throne of Kantaria. The forging of Heart's Edge. Prayers over the body of Arazni. And a blurry haze of a council deciding to summon Arazni. This memory troubles him, as does the haze. Was Iomedae there or not? The memories shift and alter.
A child taking up a sword.
He continues to clean.
"Yes, yes, lots of cleaning to do, obviously, but again, cleaning can be done once we have made sure there is no one else here causing more trouble. The other filth can wait, sad as it is."
Cecily is still impatient.
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"There's something up with this place. First there was 'Let us inherit thine arms, Iomedae...' and now what looks like a door. Keep your eyes open. Maybe there's something that ties it all together."
Dorek shrugs. "W-well, 'inherit thine a-arms' sounds like we need to t-take a weapon from somewhere around h-here. Your g-goddess likes the sword, yes?" Stepping away from the eastern door, he fumbles in his pack for a moment before pulling out his notebook, flipping it open to a complex diagram of a lock incorporated into a statue of a knight, accompanied by a more detailed sketch of the knight's stone sword. "H-here - I was s-saving this design for after I got accepted to the G-guild. A key can t-take many forms - a b-battle-notched sword could work w-well as a key to a w-warded lock."
As Aroden sets about removing his theologically dubious protection from the altar, Dorek glares at him but says nothing. I suppose I shouldn't be too critical of him; it's been decades since he's been a powerful god, and perhaps gods can lose their minds just like people. In all his time with those barbarian nations to the south, it makes sense he would forget how to be righteous - to think, he barely recognizes the rituals done in his honor! Still, in these times, the old gods of Sarkoris could use all the help they can get.
"I really do not understand this obsession with scrubbing, after all once we are done here we can bring in people to do this work, when they have all the time in Golarion."
"We really mustn't be too slow again." Thawm agrees.
"Like when we were rescuing Cecily's..." she explains quietly under her breath.
Trying to hurry things along, she helps clean with acid, fire, water, and... dewy eyes.
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As Tandyn speaks the prayer from the other room the hidden door swings open revealing a hidden chamber.
Hidden armory
This small chamber is free of dust. A holy symbol of Iomedae hangs unmolested on the wall above a weapon rack filled with swords, crossbows, and spears. Three wooden dummies wear pristine suits of armor. A shelf holds several leather quivers, each stamped with a golden sun. Two silver shields hang from pegs on the wall.
The breastplate and shields have Iomedae's holy symbol emblazoned on them.
Ahmose takes an excited look into Victoria's secret closet. The Alchemist looks at all the weapons, armor, weapons, armor and even glances at the weapons and armor.
Suppose we can paint them.
The Blue Whisper then glances at Sir Tandyn's Iomadean set. His blue eyes return to the gang of Iomedaen Armory's R Us store.
*Or not. Looks fine really. Probably go well at Defender's Heart.
"I really do not understand this obsession with scrubbing, after all once we are done here we can bring in people to do this work, when they have all the time in Golarion."
Dorek raises his eyebrows. "T-tell me about it. For a b-battle goddess, Iomedae could l-learn something from the gods of my c-clan. None of this long cleaning s-stuff, just 'knife, palm, i-idol,' then you're b-back to fighting."
As the door swings open, Dorek's eyebrows raise, and he frowns. "T-that's it? Just say the w-words and it opens?" Shaking his head, he peers into the hidden armory. "No i-imagination, these magic-users..." The lanky tiefling continues griping about the frustratingly simple design of the door as the others take a peek inside. "I mean, it's not as if a m-mechanical solution would have been t-ten times more secure, and not be v-visible to any halfway competent g-god caller. N-no, sir, I feel much s-safer knowing this city's f-fate lies in this 'fortress against the d-darkness' and the idiots who built..."
He trails off mid-rant as he spots a particularly well-made short blade resting against one wall of the hidden vault, stepping in and examining it. "T-there's actually pretty good c-craftsmanship on this one. Mostly M-mendevian in style, obviously, but this c-cross-section here is one you'd see on K-kellid blades. I'd g-guess that the smith who m-made it was a convert." Shrugging, he pulls his battered short sword from its sheath, leaning it against the wall and sliding the newer blade into its vacated sheath.
"Dorek, that just creates even more work for the help, and the cleaning does of course still need to be done, but it's not work that we..." she side-eyes Dorek. "Yes, well, that our group needs to be...oh!"
She catches a glimpse of the armory and bustles in to examine the arms on display. After looking them over, she straps a longsword to her belt (as behooves an Iomedaean crusader, of course, and besides didn't her companion call for swords earlier?) and she eyes the longbow and arrows.
"Sir Tandyn, do you need a method of striking at range? You seem quite good at throwing your sword."
"Your act was vandalism and desecration, Dorek. I wish you had not done it, and I wish you would stop trying to defend it. You have lived in Kenabres too long to plead ignorance.
As well, I entirely disagree with your thoughts about the magical lock or calling the followers of the Inheritor 'idiots'. It is not of interest to me to argue it. Your incessant complaining is tiresome."
"Cecily, might I take the bow? I have the skill and strength to use it."
"Inherit thine arms indeed." Tandyn remarks as he looks over the armory collecting the shields and a spear. "Friends, let's sort our thoughts out one at a time."
"I cannot ignore the desecration of Iomedae's connections to our realm. I serve her. I owe her. She protects me while I protect others. I will work with what I have to correct it. It doesn't need to be perfect, but it needs to be done. All of the help is appreciated."
"Dorek. You're dealing with a lot right now, but this armory remained hidden from the demons. It did its job well. Your words were not kind, and like it or not you owe the fine blade you've selected to the skill of its designer. In fact, we've all been acquiring small debts to Iomedae at least since our safe landing in that cave, so it's only right that we both return that kindness and pay it forward."
"As for the bow, one of you should have it. Would one of you prefer to use the missile wand we found earlier?"
He packs up the trove and proceeds to the eastern door.
"I do not contest that the cleaning needs to be done, just that it needs to be done now while demons may still haunt these halls. But we've spent as much time discussing it now as you've taken scrubbing, so let's be about it."
Cecily looks Aroden up and down, considers the bow, then gestures between the two. "By all means, please. I can get where I need to, generally."
She's a bit dumbfounded at Tandyn's suggestion that she might take the wand of Magic Missiles. "I'm no wizard by any stretch, and while I suppose I have been able to puzzle through the Mage's Armor, I don't know that...oh, yes, I suppose this one makes some sense as well. Hmm. Well, perhaps." She fiddles with the wand enough for a few magical motes to come out.
"I do not contest that the cleaning needs to be done, just that it needs to be done now while demons may still haunt these halls."
"We go to shrines, altars, and temples for a closer connection with our gods; but it works both ways. The demons are exactly why we should want her presence here to be as strong as possible."
Dorek sighs, hanging his head. "I'm s-sorry - you're right. I've lived in Kenabres all my l-life - if I don't k-know how an Iomedaean temple works, it's m-my fault for not bothering to learn." He glances at the offending door. "The d-door's not important - the magic s-served, after all - it's just all these b-book-casters coming to Kenabres, driving into o-obscurity the field I've spent my l-life mastering. It's n-not important - it's s-selfish of me to think about that now, and I a-apologize."