The last mongrelman falls, and Cecily finds herself glaring through the space it occupied directly at Dorek. She breathes heavily for a few quiet moments, lips curled into a snarl, not sure if she's done fighting yet. The spark of fear she had seen in his eyes feeds something hungry inside of her.
She blinks, and the moment passes. She straightens up our of her crouch, her hands relax, and hurt she was expecting in her skull fails to materialize out of the red haze. She looks around - was it Thawm again? And what was the glaive whipping about? She looks to Sir Tandyn. "I don't remember any of the crusader sergeants teaching that."
She throws a glance at the rest of the party to check how they fared - everyone except Dorek.
Thawm covers herself in sparks as the final foes collapse and her eagle disappears.
She then gives Dorek the same treatment.
"Next time, I think we should order them to surrender first. Also, lying doesn't do anyone any good." Thawm suggests mostly in Dorek's direction, pouting.
As the last mongrelman falls, Dorek staggers, clutching at his shattered rib as he coughs. When Thawm's healing magic spreads over it, however, he breaths a little easier, nodding gratefully to Thawm. He meets Cecily's gaze almost by accident - the ferocious glare on her features makes him look hurriedly away, trembling, and he avoids her gaze afterwards.
Looking over the dead sentries, he furrows his brow at the appearance of yet another masterwork chain shirt. "Another one of these t-things. Good w-workmanship." He shrugs, tugging it off its current wearer. "If all the c-cultists are wearing this, then it m-might be useful - I could use it to d-d-d... use it to d-d-d... it might be useful."
Likewise, he picks up the obsidian holy symbol, weighing it in his hand before tossing it to Aroden. "D-don't think there are many a-angelkith in the c-cultists. You're not d-dressed up in h-holy sigils or anything, and you're not b-bad with words - you should p-probably have this."
"Also, lying doesn't do anyone any good."
Dorek shrugs. "It g-got me out of the W-worldwound just fine. Everybody else d-died, but I survived because I could l-lie, skulk in the s-shadows." He clears his throat, looking sheepish. "...L-look, I'm not s-strong like Tandyn, and I d-don't have m-magic like you - trickery is what k-kept me alive all these years. Even if I d-did have power, I wouldn't know what to d-do with it."
After a few moments working up the nerve, Dorek approaches Cecily, tentatively tapping her on the shoulder, then flinching back, expecting to be hit. "C-cecily? I just wanted to say I'm s-sorry for what I said. Those s-sentries were cruel p-people - I thought that if I p-pretended to be cruel as well, they might let me b-by. I s-shouldn't have mocked Terendelev - she s-sacrificed her life for me, and I'll n-never forget that. I p-promise that I'll never dishonor her n-name again." He pulls a simply made dagger inscribed with Hallit glyphs from his bandolier. "I'll even swear a b-blood oath, if you'd l-like." He flinches slightly, as if expecting to be hit again. "...So c-could you maybe not k-kill me?"
"I don't remember any of the crusader sergeants teaching that."
"That would be quite memorable..." Tandyn agrees with a slightly distressed chuckle while collecting his glaive. "As concerning as this truly is, we must keep pushing forward." He readies his sword and shield while navigating around the barricades to the door.
"Proceed?" He looks around the group. "The bird is gone... Am I hallucinating? Did anyone else see a bird just now?" If there are no objections, he waits for everyone to move into position and opens the door.
"The bird is gone... Am I hallucinating? Did anyone else see a bird just now?"
Dorek blinks, looking at Tandyn in confusion, then sighs. "Must have h-hit him harder than I t-thought..." He takes a deep breath before speaking, his tone that of someone explaining something obvious to someone oblivious. "Okay, Thawm is a g-god caller - you k-knew that, yes? She c-calls down some of the c-children of her goddess S-sarnay in times of n-need, then they l-leave when their task is d-done."
"Okay, Thawm is a g-god caller - you k-knew that, yes? She c-calls down some of the c-children of her goddess S-sarnay in times of n-need, then they l-leave when their task is d-done."
"Oh thank Heavens. Thank you for making sense of it. Distractions are dangerous. I must do better."
After a few moments working up the nerve, Dorek approaches Cecily, tentatively tapping her on the shoulder, then flinching back, expecting to be hit. "C-cecily? I just wanted to say I'm s-sorry for what I said. Those s-sentries were cruel p-people - I thought that if I p-pretended to be cruel as well, they might let me...
Cecily side-eyes Dorek angrily as he grovels. "If you would lie about Terendelev, why would you not lie now to save yourself?"
She considers his dagger, looking ready to stab him with it.
Is that something Terendelev would have done? To an ally, even?
Cecily swallows her anger and reaches out to Dorek's side, where he'd been struck by the last mongrelman, and she wipes a spot of blood up with her finger and dabs it on Dorek's hand. "You've bled enough, side by side with us, but I will hold you to that. Your word is your bond, whether in oaths or speaking of fallen heroes."
She pats herself down and looks towards the encampment. "I am ready to continue."
"Next time, I think we should order them to surrender first."
"Surrender and then what? Chief Sull asked us to destroy them. He did not ask us to bring back captives."
"Okay, Thawm is a g-god caller - you k-knew that, yes? She c-calls down some of the c-children of her goddess S-sarnay in times of n-need, then they l-leave when their task is d-done."
"Well, celestial creatures do come when I call; as long as I don't call too often" Thawm says, unsure of this 'god-caller' business.
"Surrender and then what? Chief Sull asked us to destroy them. He did not ask us to bring back captives."
"I'm sure we could work out something. Like-" Thawm begins, suddenly stopping as she considers the poor dwarf they encountered earlier.
"Well anyway, we should at least give them a chance." She explains, pouting in Aroden's general direction.
Anevia hedges, ”If a cultist honestly wants to repent, I’m not above facilitating that. But not while they’re trying to cave in our skulls. We have to consider that they’re lying to escape judgment.”
Horgus sides with Aroden, ”No doubt anyone beyond those doors will be vile and irredeemable.”
You press forward:
The lingering smells of cooked meat and rank bodies hang in the air. Ten bedrolls, each piled with coarse blankets and animal furs, surround a fire pit filled with glowing goals. Tanned hides hang stretched on the walls, each crudely painted with scenes of deformed humanoids hunting giant vermin in caves.
One of the three doors hangs open:
A rack of hooks hangs from the ceiling, cured slabs of meat dangling from them and filling the room with a smoky aroma. A group of barrels appears to hold other preserved foodstuffs.
Ahmose just stands amongst his peers. The Blue-scaled Kobold inventorying the Asshat cultists loot drop...
You can take the clubs if you like, I guess x5, potion of cure light wounds, wand of longstrider (10 charges), MW chain shirt, MW longbow, obsidian holy symbol of Baphomet (20gp), 34 gp
The Alchemist hands out those items folks desire, before taking the Potions for himself. All the Potions. Every last beautiful glass, iron, not copper because well...vials found, fought for, bought, brewed, mixed, taken, tricked a baby for his Bottle of Magic Milk.
Trust me. Next Level you will want me to carry the Potions. You will need me to carry the Potions. You can't handle the truth!
Ahmose looked a bit lost in the moment, but smiles, waves, makes a sign of Cayden Cailian and continues his inventory.
Watching Dorek strip the garments off the Asshat cultists, the Alchemist smiles.
May actually be a good idea. Some of you wearing them , escorting prison would make them pause for a moment at least. Could sway any numbers advantage.
"If you would lie about Terendelev, why would you not lie now to save yourself?"
Dorek opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, but Cecily's words seem to have tipped him over the edge between fear and anger, and he glares at the other tiefling. "I offer you a b-blood oath and you doubt my w-word? I r-realized that what I had done was w-wrong, and I tried to a-apologize, but if you think me so d-dishonorable, perhaps you won't hear it over the s-sound of your own f-foolishness!"
"Trust me. Next Level you will want me to carry the Potions. You will need me to carry the Potions. You can't handle the truth!"
Dorek looks quizzically at Ahmose. "Little one, t-tell me... when you were an e-egg, did your mother ever d-drop you?"
As the group presses into the complex, Dorek looks around, his crimson eye taking in the fire pit and the meat hanging from the ceiling. "N-not a lot of room to f-fight - I think we should f-fight the rest of the guards where we w-were. Those b-barricades are crude, but they're b-better than nothing."
Ahmose just smiles at Dorek.
Want to go draw them out?
The Blue-scaled Kobold seems eager.
Ahmose takes a quick look into the chamber before bouncing back out.
We could open both doors after creating a smoking fire pit? Treat these Asshat cultists like bees.
"If you would lie about Terendelev, why would you not lie now to save yourself?"Dorek opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, but Cecily's words seem to have tipped him over the edge between fear and anger, and he glares at the other tiefling. "I offer you a b-blood oath and you doubt my w-word? I r-realized that what I had done was w-wrong, and I tried to a-apologize, but if you think me so d-dishonorable, perhaps you won't hear it over the s-sound of your own f-foolishness!"
Cecily shoots Dorek a salty frown back. "You did apologize, and through grace I saw fit to accept it and look past your misdeeds." She plants her fists on her hips. "It is, of course, righteous to show mercy to the pitiable."
Thawm, not wanting the others to fight but also unsure how to stop it, pouts.
Then she gets an idea.
"So there's five guys back there and ten bedrolls here. Maybe their boss has a room to himself. So five or six more?" Thawm guesses, changing the subject.
Tandyn nods at Thawm. "At least." He looks around the room "Judging by these paintings, we may not want to eat that meat; however, it does look like we control their food stockpile. That could help draw them out... eventually. Perhaps we could move some barricades in here. Though if food isn't an issue, they may just block off a door or even collapse a tunnel. That'd be their safe move. I'd rather push forward than find out. We need to get to Kenabres."
Tandyn clears his throat. "I'm going through that door."
He points to the door on the right. "I'd like to have all of you at my back." ...and not at each other's throats.
Tandyn takes a deep breath and walks to the door. He waits a moment for anyone to follow him and then opens it.
Aroden kicks himself for not preparing Open/Close.
In the southwestern part of this room, stout stone chairs surround a block of larger stone that serves as a table. The table’s top strewn with bone dice and cracked clay jugs. Stained canvas pillows rest on the chairs. A copper bowl filled with coals hangs from the ceiling, filling the room with warmth and an orange glow.
A hole in the ground in the southeast corner of the room drops down. A rope ladder hangs down the shaft, the ladder looks rickety. A door is closed to the north-east, as you get closer you smell rotting garbage.
Ahmose peers into the opened doorway behind Sir Tandyn. The Blue-scaled Kobold sniffs.
Perhaps we check the other door prior to any further egress here? Just shut and I can jam it for security as we change focus.
As Tandyn throws open the door, Dorek nervously takes a position behind him, readying a dagger to throw... only to relax as the room is revealed to be empty. He glances around the room before his eye comes to rest on the hole with its ladder. "An escape t-tunnel - I'm s-sure of it. You s-saw those barricades - they expected someone to f-find them someday, prepared a-accordingly. If we're quick, we can f-follow them."
"Well, let's save the hole for last at any rate. If there's someone behind one of these doors I'd hate to have to fight them while climbing a ladder." Thawm explains.
Perhaps we check the other door prior to any further egress here? Just shut and I can jam it for security as we change focus.
"Sounds good. Our non-combatants could also stand watch from this doorway if that's easier."
Tandyn waits for the group by the North door of the living quarters and then opens it.
The worked stone walls of this large room hold a number of shelves, each of which display the preserved bodies of dire rats, bats, rock vipers, cave lizards, and other creatures that pose in eerie stillness. A pair of bedrolls have been laid out to the southeast. To the north another rope ladder leads upwards to the east another door.
Two humans wielding glaives and horned helmets stand ready for violence.
Round 1
<-------------
<-------------
Prior to any door opening shananagins, the Trap Breaker does indeed jam the lock of the Southern door.
Ahmose immediately begins to laugh at the two Asshat cultists standing there shaking their poles.
You two ready for the ass whipping coming your way?
The Alchemist only nods at Cicily's looming form!
The Blue-scaled Kobold does point to the closet room.
Baggage should hold up inside there while we murderhobo these motherf#!%ers.
He seems to be speaking of the dead weight of Horgas and friends.
Cecily delays, she can't see what's in there and does not (yet) want to charge in recklessly.
Both of the cultists advance so that they are within sight of the party; one presents a brass bull’s head and you are stricken by the sight of it. The demon lord’s power washes over you draining your life away. The other hefts her glaive ready for you to rush them. She briefly waves the kobold forward smiling, ”Bring it.”
Horgus protests the insult by turning beet red but gets out of the way with Aravashnial and Anevia.
The Blue-scaled Kobold makes retching noises as the dirty wave of negativity washes over him.
I won! Told you guys Asshat cultists don't use soap!
The chuckling Alchemist then reaches into a pocket to produce an Alchemist Fire !
Which one of you turds are wearing Oil du shit?
He tosses it at the Asshat cultist on the right!
Aroden focuses his divine powers to cloud the mind of the weak-willed...
Daze on Blue. Looks like he has line of sight. DC 14 Will save.
Edit:
The ready cultist's will is stronger than Aroden's this time.
The alchemist fire tossed at the cultists bounces off their armor and back towards the door which itself catches fire and sears Tandyn.
"Bring it."
Dorek grins, darting past Tandyn and into the room. "D-don't mind if I do!" He jerks his spindly frame to the side just in time to avoid the first glaive as it crashes to the floor where he had been standing, and as the guards ready for another attack, he leaps again, the cultist's glaive whistling just below his heels as he lands in front of her, his claw flashing out at her hamstrings as he drops to one knee. "You two s-still half-asleep, or j-just plain s-stupid?"
"A livestock god? Pathetic... Hit their sides!"
Tandyn raises his shield and advances until he's between them. He slashes at the one holding the brass bull head.
"It's ok... don't let them get to you."
That was not like Dorek catching a club with his ribs. Thawm thinks as she recovers from the blast of negative energy.
She steps into the doorway and casts Grease (DC 15) on the glaive of the one who didn't just present an unholy symbol of Baphomet.
"Drop your weapons!" she explains orders.
The cultists pop their heads into view and jeer, giving Cecily a good look at them. A good look at their sneering, murderous, traitorous faces. These were the people who murdered Terendelev.
The anger, already at a hot simmer, boils over and her vision goes red.
She springs into the room and attempts to tear into one with her bared claws.
Dorek and Tandyn lead the charge. The ready cultist is not ready enough as Dorek draws their fire. Dorek jukes left and lightly scratches them followed by Tandyn with a solid sword stroke, engaging the other cultist.
Thawm orders the glaive to the ground and then it cannot be held by the cultist. Working off some anger Cecily then slashes her claws against the cultist’s throat, leaving them little to breathe with and blood sprays the battlefield.
The remaining cultist sings a prayer to their lord, ”In the name of Baphomet, I command the forces of Darkness! Begone!” Another deadly wave of energy hits you.
"Nice punch?! Claws? Nice claws!" Tandyn corrects himself while being sprayed with blood. He spins around to the remaining cultist and tries to sweep his legs.
He steps back and courteously gestures for Cecily to take his spot as the cultist blood flows off his skin.
Thawm winces at the dark energy and then steps into the room.
"I greased the wrong thing." She explains before casting Grease (DC 15) on the holy symbol also.
Cecily barks a harsh laugh as the first cultist's lifeblood spurts from their jugular, parted by Cecily's claws and soaking both her and Sir Tandyn. The crusader's politeness is lost on her fury though as she launches herself at the second cultist.
The Blue-scaled Kobold makes retching noises as the dirty wave of negativity washes over him.
Save his eyes for last so he call look at stupid Baphomet in disbelief.
Dorek's face goes ashen as the cultist's unholy prayers sap the life from his body - nevertheless, he is still capable enough to fight back in a whirlwind of razor-sharp claws, though little of his desperate attack gets through his foe's armor.
Tandyn and Cecily waste no time eviscerating the remaining cultist of Baphoment, ending the threat.
The worked stone walls of this large room hold a number of shelves, each of which display the preserved bodies of dire rats, bats, rock vipers, cave lizards, and other creatures that pose in eerie stillness. A pair of bedrolls have been laid out to the southeast. To the north another rope ladder leads upwards to the east another door.
Aroden withstands the demonic energies, and looks on in approval as Cecily and Tandyn finish the foe.
He searches the shelves and walls for anything hidden.
As Ahmose begins grabbing everything that isn't nailed down, especially the glassware, Thawm mutters a command word "esaerged."
The grease on the unholy symbol and the glaive vanishes without a trace.
Thawm sighs.
"I just- maybe we practice fighting together?"
Ahmose begins grabbing everything that isn't nailed down, especially the glass wear. Actually, he only pockets the Potions.
The Blue-scaled Kobold looks at Thawm and smiles.
Cecily stands breathing heavily for a moment then snaps to, her eyes going wide and staring at her blood-soaked hands and the trachea she's holding in one of them.
She retches, drops it.
She tries to wipe the blood off her hands and on to her dress, but the gloves are soaked. She peels them off.
"Did I...?" She glances sidelong at the cultists and then looks nervously about the group.
Tandyn is completely unfazed by the bloody corpse bits. "It's ok, Cecily." He puts his hands around her gloves and blood streams out. "Whatever that was... you used it as a weapon against evil."
He raises his voice and addresses the group "Great work everyone! And you're right, Thawm. With some planning we can do better still. Perhaps we should start by gathering everyone's thoughts? I'll start: fire hurts me. Do not throw fire at me. Except you Thawm. Do you happen to have more healing fire? Although I can take a little zapping or cold if that helps. Anyone want to go next?"
"Did I...?"
Dorek steps back, looking sidelong at the blood-covered noblewoman. His own claws have traces of blood on them, but nowhere near the degree of Cecily, and he reaches into his locksmith's bag, wiping his claws off on a grease-stained rag as he nervously adjusts his eyepatch. "Y-yes, you d-did. Very e-extensively, too." He shudders. "All the l-little bits and pieces... and b-blood everywhere... I won't f-forget it in a h-hurry."
"Great work everyone! And you're right, Thawm. With some planning we can do better still. Perhaps we should start by gathering everyone's thoughts? I'll start: fire hurts me. Do not throw fire at me. Except you Thawm. Do you happen to have more healing fire? Although I can take a little zapping or cold if that helps. Anyone want to go next?"
Dorek ducks his head, looking uncomfortable at all the attention directed at him. "I d-don't know quite so m-much as you, Tandyn. I know f-fire, though, it doesn't h-harm me. N-not little ones, anyway. My m-mother always said it was the b-blessing of our goddess, that she k-knew I would work at the f-forge when I grew older." He manages a weak grin, glancing at Tandyn. "It actually feels g-good - fire, I m-mean. P-pleasantly warm, like a g-good summer day. It's t-too bad you don't f-feel it - I think you'd l-like it." He blinks once or twice before continuing. "W-winters get bitter c-cold this far north, but I've n-never gotten f-frostbite, even when I was s-sleeping in a ditch in the W-worldwound itself. As for l-lightning... I don't know. I've n-never been struck by it." He glances at Cecily, raising his eyebrows. "D-demonspawn don't fear l-lightning, right? I thought I h-heard that somewhere."
He clears his throat, moving over to the east door (while at the same time studiously avoiding looking at the blood-covered Cecily). "When we f-first came in here, those two were g-guarding this d-door. I've s-seen enough guards around the m-marketplace to know what they l-look like. One to either s-side - this place is i-important." He kneels to examine the knob, his hand dipping back into his little black bag for a roll of torsion wrenches and picks of varying sizes. "I might need my t-tools for this one - t-those guards were good, but not t-that good. I wouldn't t-trust them alone to k-keep this door shut, not when l-locks are cheap and e-effective." His voice carries a hint of professional pride at this last sentence, and his scrawny chest swells with pride. "They'll m-make me a guildsman, you k-know. Once we get b-back to the surface. No more b-backbreaking work at that damned f-foundry - I'll be a g-guildsman... get to wear the special c-coat..." He clears his throat again, looking embarrassed. "...Probably not the t-time. I'm s-sorry - it's j-just... you try and f-focus on what you can." He forces a grin again, glancing back at Tandyn. "W-what about you? They'll probably m-make you a captain or s-something. And C-cecily might become a c-clanliege!"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
He raises his voice and addresses the group "Great work everyone! And you're right, Thawm. With some planning we can do better still. Perhaps we should start by gathering everyone's thoughts? I'll start: fire hurts me. Do not throw fire at me. Except you Thawm. Do you happen to have more healing fire? Although I can take a little zapping or cold if that helps. Anyone want to go next?"
"I am but a mortal man," says the dubious God of Humanity.
"Fire will harm me, as will swords, poison, cold, hanging...Blunt weapons, arcane energies, the touch of the grave...
Disease, hunger, thirst, suffocation...
Being rent asunder by the power of the demon-gods of Chaos, lingering as a living corpse for ten thousand years in a throne of gold..."
No, that is not right. That was the one in the other reality. I grew strong and became a god, living for ten thousand years while that one weakened. Then I died, and he began to recover his strength. Mirror images. Coincidence or a connection? What happens now? Shall we both best the demons of Chaos, or must one of us fail?
He looks around at the others.
"Is this not what we are doing? Oh.
Well, as a wizard, I can learn many things. I will seek to develop my magical skills to bolster our group. My skills are strongest in the areas of divination and abjuration, and weakest in the areas of illusion and necromancy, but with practice I could learn any spells.
I have some small ability to lend my magical prowess to others, especially for spells that I am able to cast. Thawm, I will seek to prepare spells that you can cast, so that when I use this ability your spells will be more powerful."
"W-what about you? They'll probably m-make you a captain or s-something."
"I pray they are still there to ask. The archivist will need to record a few things, but I'll likely be sent right back out to help with whatever is next. Several of my colleagues have likely slain large demons today, so all of this may not stand out."
Tandyn chuckles. "This is all great information, but perhaps I should clarify: I intended to talk about tactics and advice for when we fight. Let me retry. Let's pincer our opponents - that is, try to be on opposite sides of them. You may help someone else land a blow. Granted, it takes a clear head to see the opportunities at times, but it's worth it. Also, feel free to let me be the first one to walk into danger. I have a responsibility to be the first one in and last one out, and I invite you to plan around it if that helps.
Much like the other Aasimar, Tandyn, Thawm seems oddly okay with the large amounts of blood Cecily is now covered in.
"Yes, tactics. That's what we need." Thawm agrees.
"So I can mend injuries. I think... I haven't felt quite right since we knocked out the dwarf and I can heal better than I remember... but anyway I can heal things. You each should line up so I can treat you. Anyway- tactics. So I can also use fire that burns, acid that burns, or grease things. People usually drop greasy things or slip on greasy floors, so I can disable people while ..." Thawm looks at Cecily. "While you guys take care of other combatants." Thawm explains.
"Perhaps if we aren't facing people that have protection from fire or acid, I can use regular fire or acid to neutralize combatants." Thawm explains while nodding encouragingly to herself and speaking more evenly than usual, as if reciting something she's heard before.
"That's it. Ahmose, you first." Thawm explains as sparks start to fly and injuries disappear.
The treatment doesn't seem to do anything for the blood outside of Cecily's skin, though.