The dwarf’s joke goes unnoticed, or unappreciated, by the sorceress. “This whole place is wrong,” Autumn murmurs back to Morga in a magical whisper. Her stomach might have become accustomed to the eerie sensation of the place, but there’s still an unsettling prickling at the edge of her consciousness. “Do you see anything in the passage ahead?” She edges forward, but cautiously remains behind San.
She concludes that it may be possible to disable this effect by scratching out runes on the door's surface or invoking a deity antithetical to whatever power is sustaining this magic .
Morga isn't sure of the exact religious connection, but the spiked horseshoe does have the look of a holy symbol. She switches to watching the dark corridor to the east, and other than a far-off dripping she doesn't notice anything.
Vildran does sense the door is magical.
“Wait!” Autumn cautions San as he takes a step towards the door. “There … there was rust coming off the door when you approached.” She glances over at the wizard. “Vildran’s right—that door is so trapped. I’m sure that rust would swallow you whole if you touched it.”
She eyes the door warily. “Maybe scratching out the runes—carefully—would ruin the magic? Do you know anything about how Thassilonian magic works?”
Autumn doesn't recall her Thassilonian deities very well, but it seems possible that it might be Lissala?
Autumn furrows her brow in thought. “Wasn’t Lissala one of those Thassilonian wizards … or gods … or something?”
Vildran strokes his chin and eyes the door. Even his antennae squint at it (???).
Lissala is originally of Ancient Azlanti origin. But I will not rule out the relevance here. Let me see...
None of you are able to identify the exact deity the spiked horseshoe might be referring to.
San pulls his hand back at Autumn's warning. "Thanks for that. So how do we get this thing open? Did Lissala have any particular interest in skymetal?"
Autumn shrugs at San’s question. “No idea. I was just going off your idea of saying ‘open’, but with a bit more oomph—if it’s divine magic, it might help to invoke a Thasilonnian deity opposed to it. Or just destroy the runes.” She seems hesitant to try it herself though, unable or unwilling to do either—who knows what the magic would do if she failed.
San shrugs again, "What's the worst that can happen? I already have... this." He gestures to his leg as he pauses. "Let's give this a go."
By the time Morga turns around to volunteer to destroy the runes, San is already on it. Instead, she watches carefully, ready to heal him at a moment's notice if necessary.
Vildran is fascinated by his teammates efforts, but divine sources are not quite his forte.
San considers his options and chooses to offer a prayer to Torag as a means of shielding the group against the magic - after all, the dwarven god's interests were both protection and good, reliable metalworking. As he utters the prayer, the light and the haze of rust both pull back and away from him, giving him a brief opening to reach out and touch the door.
Despite its appearance, the door responds immediately at the slightest touch, rumbling as it parts in the middle and swings open. You note both the light and the rust rush back in the moment after San is no longer right next to them. The wide hallway beyond features a black marble floor and large murals on the east and west walls. Massive doors flank this hallway to the north and south. The mural on the western wall depicts an imperious woman standing victorious and invincible, the mangled bodies of her presumed enemies around her. The the east, the mural depicts the same woman surrounded by other tall and important-looking figures, all of whom are bowing down before her. Set on stands in front of each of the two murals are odd black suits of armor. Each suit has feet that looks like hooves and helms that look like bull heads with too many horns. Both are rusty and damaged, but still look quite intimidating even so.
The door at the far end looks similar to the one you just opened, but lacks the glow and the haze of rust.
“Fetch,” Autumn breathes softly as the door yields in response to San’s prayer, both in admiration and amazement that it actually worked. She may need to learn more about the gods herself.
Waiting for the others to enter first, she cautiously follows afterwards. “Anyone you know?” she idly asks Vildran as she glances at the murals on either side. “Any relation to that Xar-Azmak our ‘friend’ mentioned?” But the majority of her untrusting attention is focused upon the black suits of armor.
“Stop!” Autumn hisses, as she herself freezes outside the hallway. “The suits of armor just moved.” She tenses, ready to run, for her magic, so effective at deceiving the living, is useless against mindless metal.
Just as suddenly as she yells it, Vildran turns towards the suits of armor.
Uh oh!
"Morga, your talents may be required soon..." San creeps forward with less enthusiasm. He was hoping the armor would be an interesting artifact. Not something moving on its own.
Morga nods and moves ahead of San with her shield raised. "If we fight these things, it's going to make a racket. Everybody down here's going to either come running or dig in for ambushes. Do we want to try the dark hall first, or power through here?"
"I'm not sure we have a choice. I don't think going back and forth is an option. At least not an easy one. The rust stuff on the door seemed to come back as soon as I wasn't touching the door any longer. We'd probably have to bypass it again to come back in."
“Does anyone know what these things are? Armor suits don’t just move on their own. Could you invoke Torag again to bypass them?”
"I don't know what they are, but I'm willing to cast an attack spell on them and see what happens. Divine Lance ought to do the trick." Morga volunteers.
Vildran senses magical auras within the area of the armors stirring. Whether it's Morga and San moving up, or the touch of Vildran's magic upon them, the two armors shift and straighten, before lowering their helms to point toward your team!
-
|||| INIT ||||
Morga
Vildran
San (Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
Blue Bull Armor
Red Bull Armor
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Vildran sighs, his antennae slumping on his head.
It looks like we're going to make some noise...
He comes into the room next to Morga and continues to focus on the armor.
What are they, what are they...
Sometimes his dwelling and muttering makes it seem as though he doesn't notice the immediate danger.
After thinking on them he takes his let index figure and begins to draw draconic runes in the air...
You expand a ring of glyphs that shields your allies. You and any allies in the area gain a +1 status bonus to AC. Each time you Sustain the spell, the emanation's radius increases by 5 feet, to a maximum of 30 feet.
With a determined look, San sets his feet and aims his bow. He only winces a little bit as the ache in his leg reminds him the infection is still there. In quick succession he fires two arrows at the moving armor.
“So we’re really doing this,” Autumn sighs. Nonetheless, with all of her companions acting as shields in front of her, she feels safe enough to take a step forward so that the armor is within range of her spell. Most archers would have difficulty firing through a throng of people, but the sorceress simply twists her fingers and conjures an ephemeral bolt of magical energy. Blinking in and out of existence, it phases safely through her friends and at one of the black suits of armor. The trick, however, is timing its integrity correctly, and unfortunately the arcane blast also phases harmlessly through its target.
Autumn echoes Morga's thoughts exactly. She flings a lance of spirit energy at the suit on the right before stepping forward to protect Vildran if they advance.
While Vildran raises his ward San provides exactly that, sending an arrow cleanly into the rustiest part of the red armor's helm. The helm instantly shatters from that single powerful strike, and then rest of the armor's component pieces clatter loudly to the ground, like you just knocked a whole kitchen's worth of pots and pans onto the floor. Several of the remaining pieces also shatter as they collide with the ground, having been weakened by the rust eating through them.
Unfortunately, while his second arrow is well aimed, it bounces off one of blue's more sturdy armor plates . Autumn follows with a phase bolt that veers off course. Morga attempts a divine lance instead. While the spirit bolt is well aimed, it passes clean through the blue armor without interacting with it in any way.
The remaining armor rears back and then charges Morga almost on all fours. She's ready to receive it though, and between her own defenses and Vildran's wards its knocked off course. It tries for a swing of a gauntlet against her afterward, but its a fruitless endeavor. She's left unscathed.
|||| INIT ||||
Morga
Vildran
San (Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
Blue Bull Armor
Vildran concentrates on his protective runes and they expand.
He looks around for a chunk of debris and heaves it with an incantation.
It slams into the bull armor...
San takes aim with more arrows, thankful that Morga is there to face the brunt of the attacks.
Buoyed by San’s efficient destruction of the first armor, and protected by a dwarven bulwark, Autumn presses her attack. This time she begins by uttering a sibilant curse, before summoning another piercing blast of unstable magical energy.
Growling in frustration that her spell was useless, Morga grabs her starknife (never feels right in her hand) and tries to punch a hole in the rusty armor before her.
Again, she raises her shield.
The bull armor seems to power through Autumn's jealous hex without getting affected, and unfortunately Autumn's phase bolt phases way off target. Morga has better aim, though the edges of her starknife struggle against the metal she's striking.
The bull armor rears up and then unleashes a hail of blows upon Morga. Though she dodges and blocks two swings of its gauntlets, it gets in with its horned helm for a savage blow to her torso .
|||| INIT ||||
Morga (16 dmg)
Vildran
San (Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
Blue Bull Armor (4 dmg)
Morga stows her starknife and slaps a coagulating salve on her wounds.
"Thanks for loaning me your healing kit, Autumn. That's some good salve!" She remarks as she raises her shield once again. It feels like her bones are still vibrating from that hard hit.
“Morga! Get out of there!” Autumn cries, unable to believe that a quick dash of salve would do any good. She glances around, trying to think of a way to help the dwarf without endangering herself, but there doesn’t seem to be any options besides a direct approach … so she fires another phase bolt at the rusty construct, then picks up a loose rock at her feet. “San! Stop messing around and kill it!” Waiting for the right moment, she hurls the stone to distract the armor from the elf’s arrows.
Hmm, maybe if it gets cold a bit it's more brittle? Let's try...
Getting frustrated, San is buoyed by Autumn's spell's effect. Aiming just where the spell landed, he looses three more arrows.
Vildran and San take advantage of its sudden vulnerability with a pulse of cold and two arrows that strike clean. The subsequent damage is more than enough and armor is shattered! Rusty scraps fall to the floor to lie still.
Combat Over!
-----
Though you now stand among the scattered scraps of the two guardian armors, the doors beyond to the north remain closed. Just like the southern doors, it seems you may be able to open them with a touch. Thankfully they're neither glowing nor sheathed in a haze of rust.
"Whew!" Morga sighs and sags against the wall. "Thanks for finishing it off. ... Oof. That thing packed a whollop." She rubs her shield arm, trying to work out the last of the tingles. "Do we rush on now, or can I take a few minutes to finish patching myself up?"
She's not looking forward to continuing, honestly. But she wants to know what's going on; the others are certainly determined; and as the most well-armored person in the group, it's her duty to stand between them and any threats to their safety. The weight of that duty settles heavily on her shoulders, now that she has a taste of what it entails.
Exhaling a cool sigh of relief, Autumn moves to Morga’s side, carefully avoiding contact with the rusty debris that now litters the hall. “I’m just glad you’re alive,” she responds to the dwarf, while leaning over to inspect the wound. “That’s … fetch,” she says, astonished and impressed that it’s already healed so much after such hasty treatment.
She pauses, listening for the sound of any cultists, then nods at the cleric. “Let’s make sure you’re fully fit first.”
"Yeah, moving armor was not expected for sure. Lets take a minute to patch up. Thanks for taking the brunt of the attacks Morga." San takes the time to refill his quiver from his pack and has a look around the room while preparations are made to move on.
Vildran walks over to the fallen armor chunks. He leans down and feels one to see if it's still cold to the touch.
It seems anything can be a hazard in this place.
He sits down against the wall, next to where Morga is leaning and pulls out his spell book to look over some notes in the back.
Once the team is ready to open the next door he concentrates on it.
Vildran doesn't detect any magic from the door.
"You didn't hear any dog barks or growls did you? Good..."
San moves to the door and makes sure everyone is in place, giving time as needed, before giving it a nudge in the right direction to open it.
Autumn silently shakes her head. “Just muffled chanting. But that doesn’t mean the dog’s not in there.” Edging closer to one side of the door, she steels herself for what might appear once San opens it. In response to her focused gaze, the ornate tree tattoo on the inside of her forearm slowly pulses with a soft, subdued light, burnishing the leaves with the colors of a fading sunset.
Morga nods her thanks and sets to work on her wounds.
"Eh, good enough," she grunts as she packs up the healing kit. Settling her shield on her arm, she nods at San. "Ready. Need some backup?" She moves up beside San and casts Guidance on him when he's ready to handle the door.
As the party prepares for the door to open, Vildran jumps back into "ready" stance, his body tensing.
For lack of a better preparation idea he leans his staff forward, in case some offensive flames might soon be in order.