With Morga healed and the rest of your recovered, San nudges the northern doors and they smoothly swing open at his touch. A soaring domed ceiling, thirty feet tall in the center, gives this massive chamber a sense of majesty. Marble floors and stairs leading up to a centralized dais, drawing attention to the bloody stone altar at the center of the room. A twisted apparatus of strange metals stands atop and above the altar, the mechanism rising rising to 10 feet tall and with cables and tethers anchored to the ceiling. The blood drenching the altar seems fresh, but the only visible victim is the mangled remains of a large rabbit. Motifs of a seven-pointed star appear on most doorways, and on all sides of the altar, as do images of spiky horseshoes of rusted iron. The room is brightly lit by over a dozen torches.
The room is occupied by four figures, three robed like the cultists you met on the surface. The fourth is a stout dwarf in what once must have been fine steel full plate armor with a brass trim. Now, that same armor is tarnished by rust clinging to every surface. The dwarf, who appears to have been leading a chant, immediately stops as the doors open. He turns to the south and raises a warhammer in salute "You return! How keen my lord's insight. Behold, behold the grandeur of the works of Xar-Azmak!"
-
|||| INIT ||||
Morga (1 dmg)
Vildran
San (Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
White Dwarven Leader
Blue Cultist
Green Cultist
Orange Cultist
San takes stock of the room and their foes. Putting aside his wonder at the... sculpture(?) hanging from the ceiling, he takes aim at the closest cultist and fires two arrows. Between arrows, "Autumn, I think your magic will be most helpful here."
Autumn nods imperceptibly at San while she quickly surveys the large chamber, gauging the enemies’ strength. Fortunately the hound is missing, but the cultists are just beyond the reach of her phase bolt, and there’s no way that she will be the one to close the distance. No matter—she can just pry into their minds instead. She begins with an assault of words, meant to goad the dwarf into revealing more about his patron.
“Never heard of this Xar-Azmak,” she scoffs dismissively. “Did he do anything important?” One emerald eye decays into a dull, lifeless grey as her magic reaches into the dwarf’s mind. An instant later, the tattoo on her forearm flares to life, conjuring an invisible shield of force.
"I heard he wears clogs and causes wretched farts." Morga remarks dryly. She casts Bless to buff her allies and raises her shield in preparation for whatever comes next.
Still no cythnigot in sight... I suppose that's good news. he remarks as they enter the room and survey their very predictable danger.
Well, I have to use these sometime!
He unloads one of his force barrages, which had been prepared for cythnigot's, at the dwarf.
-
The dwarf rushes toward your group, proselytizing as he does "Know that iron will always be weak to the tide of rust!" He swings his warhammer down upon San, but the agile elf is able to step out of the way. The blue cultist rushes in as well, but chooses to weave around San to get into a flank and then stab carefully with his dagger. The positioning pays off as he scores a precise hit . The remaining cultist rushes in to attack Morga, but she's able to keep his dagger at bay with her shield.
|||| INIT ||||
Morga (1 dmg)
Vildran
San (4 dmg, Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
White Dwarven Leader (8 dmg)
Blue Cultist
Orange Cultist
"Know that iron will always be weak to the tide of rust!"
"And then what?" Morga asks as she steps back to flank the blue-robed cultist with Autumn. She draws her starknife and jabs it toward his midsection. "Have you thought about what happens to rust when there's nothing left?"
Autumn’s face darkens when the dwarf resists her attempt to twist his mind, but the cleric’s blessing eases her frustration, filling her instead with confidence to press the attack, even when one of the cultists rushes dangerously close to her. Instinctively she thrusts out her arm, gathering a flickering arcane essence to plunge into the foe beside her.
With the enemy’s life blood gushing out of his wound, she glares defiantly at the other cultist. “Really?”
San growls as he is set upon by the dwarf with the hammer. Trying to think quickly, he tries to remember how to best handle foes like this.
Surprised by the cultist suddenly in his face, Vildran throws his staff into it and launches a flame bolt at him.
and then safely steps away.
San knows of dwarves, but can't quite place this particular one or evaluate his weaknesses. As a result he just focuses on punching, and gets in with one solid hit. With no cultist in his personal space, Vildran sends a small bolt of flame over at the orange cultist instead, scorching the fellow's robes badly.
San is left holding the front line as the dwarf and remaining cultist strike and stab away at him. The dwarf roars "Doubt Xar-Azmak's power at your own peril! Decay will come for you!" as he swings upward. He gets past San's guard and strikes a fairly glancing blow with the weighty weapon, but the words seem to get under San's skin just as much. A follow-up swing is even more vicious, but this time San's able to dodge out of the way. Meanwhile the remaining cultist snarls as he stabs away, first at San , and then stepping in at Morga and scoring another cut .
|||| INIT ||||
Morga (4 dmg)
Vildran
San (11 dmg, Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
White Dwarven Leader (25 dmg)
Orange Cultist (5 dmg)
Deciding he doesn't like getting hit by the dwarf, San attempts to disable that threat and remove the war-hammer.
Bolstered by Morga’s deadly attack and the effectiveness of her own phase bolt, Autumn recasts her spell at the dwarf. “Decay comes for all,” she counters his threat with insidious, twisting magic meant to sap his greatest strength. Let’s see how he likes facing decay himself.
"Yeah, yeah." Morga grumbles, launching into a lecture as she jabs her starknife into the orange-robed cultist. "Fanatics can't reason or think. They only 'believe' and 'feel'. True understanding comes from the balance between those two. Not that I expect you to get it."
She raises her shield, anticipating retaliation.
Vildran laughs nervously when Morga starts her combat-lecture.
No, they won't get it! Better to save your energy for smashing and slashing them! Once they are subdued you can assert an education program!
He releases a barrage of force missiles at the dwarf.
Though San doesn't manage to loosen the dwarf's grip on his Warhammer, after backing off he does land a well aimed shot with his bow. The dwarf takes the shaft to his shoulder and keeps fighting. The dwarf suffers Autumn's jealous hex, growing feeble, but even so debilitated he still manages to deflect the phase bolt aimed at him.
Meanwhile Morga brings down the orange cultist with a quick jab of her starknife, before readying her shield. That shield will go unused for now however, as Vildran's barrage of force batters the dwarf past his breaking point. A strange expression of confusion flickers across the dwarf's face as he falls, face first into the stone.
Combat Over
Now that you aren't actively fighting, you can see the strange apparatus atop the altar slowly grinding and spinning, many of its metal plates tinged with rust, but some still showing clearly unusual hues underneath.
San breaths a sigh of relief as the rusty dwarf goes down. "Good job team. I thought the heavy armor was going to be quite the obstacle but we got past it. That hammer though..." He winces as he stretches out the shoulder where the hammer glanced off his armor. "It's in much better shape than the armor. Morga, do you think you could make use of it? And while we're at it..." San grins sheepishly, "I could use some medical attention."
Morga inspects the hammer. "Hm. Probably not. Shouldn't leave it lying around, though." If San doesn't want it as a backup weapon, she tucks it away before getting to work on treating his wounds.
Since she only just patched herself up a few minutes ago, she casts Heal on herself instead. "I hate to do this, but I doubt that's the only resistance we'll meet down here. That fungus wolf thing, for one."
She packs up the healing gear and brushes off her hands briskly. "Now. What's up with the spinning thing?"
While Morga tends to San’s wounds, Autumn’s instincts trend to other matters: she carefully searches all the bodies, looking for clues—as well as gold and other valuables. There ought to be some kind of reward for mucking around down here.
“He spoke of his lord, so someone else is in charge. We need to stay careful.” When she notices that the apparatus is moving, she frowns. “Should we just destroy it? Whatever it’s doing isn’t good.”
Vildran shudders.
I was hoping we got these characters instead of the cythnigot, not in addition to.
He very carefully approaches the altar, first checking it for traces of magic.
As for the ritual apparatus, it's clear that it has some religious function in addition to its purely mechanical one of tearing into sacrifices upon the altar. Morga isn't entirely sure what that religious function may be, but it likely isn't anything wholesome. Autumn can tell that the apparatus is particularly unstable. It may be possible to jam it and halt its function. Alternatively, whatever divine auspices are powering it might be able to be rebuked like the front door was - though she suspects this may be quite difficult. Either option seems risky as well - there's a lot of moving metal parts here that could come loose.
“So unfulfilling,” Autumn murmurs after her uneventful search, discarding the cultists’ useless rusty daggers. After peering more closely at the ritual apparatus, she shakes her head, deciding against her earlier idea of destruction. “That thing’s liable to fly apart and throw jagged metal everywhere if we mess with it. Best to leave it alone for now.”
She glances around at the multiple doors with a sigh. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we? Shall we try door number one?” She gestures at the closest door on the left.
“That thing’s liable to fly apart and throw jagged metal everywhere if we mess with it. Best to leave it alone for now.”
Morga doesn't argue, but she throws a contemptuous glance at the device. She wants to destroy it, but she just finished patching up half the group. With a low growl, she suggests: "Maybe on the way out, then. Door number one's fine."
Vildran frowns, gaining nothing from his curiosity for now.
You're probably right. Later
He approaches the door behind Morga and Autumn.
You note that the smaller doors in this complex all seem to be a similar type - a simple metal handle and a simple engraving in the surface of a seven pointed star. At least the ones nearby don't appear to have locks. You swing the southwestern door open to find a stone corridor that hooks to the left. You check the first door on the right and find it open to the privy. Each toilet has a stone seat and a deep pit. The smell emanating suggests they've been well used.
At the end of the corridor is another metal door, with a small plaque affixed to it that reads "Workshop".
“So gross,” Autumn murmurs as she wrinkles her nose in disgust at the smell. She avoids the privy but otherwise stays alert for anything out of the ordinary, following after Morga and San, of course. “And so much blood being sacrificed—are they trying to summon something? And what’s with all the rust?” she wonders quietly to her companions.
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Morga's nose wrinkles with disgust at the smell of the privies. Whew! That smells worse than Great-uncle Guntrand's soiled skivvies. Didn't know anything could. She immediately feels shame for thinking such uncharitable thoughts of her recently deceased relative. It's not his fault his body failed him in his old age. It'll happen to all of us, if something else doesn't kill us first. She notes grimly that this investigation might land her in the latter camp as she checks to see if there's anything useful in the stalls. Perhaps they left drafts of their plans in there for wiping?
Thankful for a different avenue for her thoughts, she latches onto Autumn's question about rust as she leaves the privies. "I dunno. Xar-Azmak must be a god of rust and degradation or something. ... I think 'degrading' is an appropriate word for all this." She pauses by the Workshop door for the party to assemble themselves. If it's not locked, she'll open it once everyone's ready.
San tests his shoulder again after Morga's attention. "This is much better, thanks." He is similarly off put by finding the toilets. Just to make sure he casts a detection spell to see if there's any magic around before moving on. Hoping to make sure the group doesn't fall prey to any traps, he thoroughly checks their surroundings as they move.
Vildran passes by the privy quickly after seeing Autumn and Morga's facial reactions.
Surely no magic to detect and identify in there...
He nods to Autumn. I'd wager highly that something is being brough "back" for all of this sacrifice.
He gets into position behind Morga and San, hoping she swiftly opens the doorway to deliver them from privy smells.
-
-
Down the hallway, you open the door at the end of the hall. The metal door creaks as it opens to a large workshop. A thin layer of dust coats most of the workbenches, grinding wheels, and cabinets in this well-equipped workshop. The smell of earth and sweat fill the room, and you quickly realize why. On the west side of the room a single hooded cultist stands at a workbench, carving pieces of a holy symbol apart and feeding them to the six-legged, fungus encrusted Hound that stands next to him. With dismay you notice that the Hound seems fully recovered from yesterday's engagement. In fact, it seems more vital and energetic than ever.
Morga, having heard the scraping amid the creaking of the door, is the first to act.
|||| INIT ||||
Morga
Hooded cultist
Cythnigot
Vildran
San (Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
"So that's what a cynigot looks like. Huh." Morga assesses the situation wryly as she reaches back to cast Runic Weapon on San's bow. She raises her shield and calls back: "Back up! Make them come to us!"
Morga powers through the display reasonably well, only feeling a little uncomfortable for a passing moment, but Vildran and San both turn positively green. The Hound follows by tearing into Morga with its jaws, getting past her guard and biting hard.
Where the Hound bit her, Morga feels an unpleasant burning sensation building...
The hooded cultist is slower to respond, but when he does its with a half-hidden sneer "You did not learn your lesson against my good friends, I see. Well, Meitremar will find a use for you. Or for your bodies, at least. He he he." He makes his way to the south and tosses the carving dagger he was holding onto at San before drawing a curved, rusty ritual knife. The carving dagger bounces harmlessly off the wall next to San.
|||| INIT ||||
Vildran (sickened 1, off-guard)
San (sickened 1, off-guard, Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
Morga (9 dmg, off-guard 1 rd, Rust Creep - Stage 1; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Hooded cultist
Cythnigot
Vildran is white as a sheet with fright.
Yeah... this is it.
He unleashes his remaining force barrage at it.
Even prepared for the encounter, San is still caught off guard with the cynthigot's display. His vision is a little swimmy but he still nocks and fires two arrows at the creature in quick succession before dancing past his teammates to the room with the machine.
Autumn is only too glad to comply with Morga’s demand, especially when she hears the hound crashing into the dwarf. Following San, she quickly retreats back into the large domed chamber; only then does she notice the wizard frozen with fear. “Vildran! Get out of there!”
Her mind races, desperately thinking of something she can do without foolishly sacrificing herself. If there were only some way to protect him, or hide him … Hide!
With a swirling circular motion of her hand, she conjures an image of an inexplicably dense fog between Vildran and Morga, hoping to provide some concealment for them.
"Move back, Vildran!" Morga stands her ground, unwilling to allow the cythnigot to get within ten feet of him. She raises her shield again and casts Haunting Hymn at it.
-
The cythnigot fights back, snapping twice. Morga blocks the first bite, jamming her shield into its jaws. As soon as it shakes itself free of her, it goes for an ankle and gets a second powerful bite in. She slides to the ground, losing consciousness. Rather than stick around to potentially get battered by more arrows and magic, the cythnigot leaps off to the side. The hooded cultist looks momentarily caught off guard by the cythnigot backing off, before saying "Ah, you wish for me to prove myself as well then, hmm? I will. I will indeed."
The cultist stalks forward, stepping over Morga and advancing into the sudden patch of fog. From within it, he smiles as he turns on Vildran and stabs twice with his dagger. Vildran, sickened by the cythnigot as he is, fails to dodge even the slower of the two stabs. He's punctured twice and falls. The cultist cackles "Witness me Xar-Azmak!"
|||| INIT ||||
Vildran (12 dmg, dying 1, prone, sickened 1, off-guard)
San (sickened 1, off-guard, Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
Morga (20 dmg, dying 1, prone, Rust Creep - Stage 1; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Hooded cultist
Cythnigot (20 dmg)
“Really?” Autumn grumbles, seemingly as exasperated by fate as she is concerned by the heavy thuds of her companions collapsing to the ground. “Fine—be a martyr.” If the dwarf and wizard want to believe in fairy tales about selfless sacrifice, that’s their problem—obviously, since they’re both bleeding their guts out now.
But the dreaded hound does not appear. Instead it’s just a man—and men Autumn can handle. With vengeance tilting the scales against fear (it helps that San still serves as a buffer), she lets the strange fog dissipate and fixes the cultist with an evil eye, a dead black eye that thrums with occult magic. “Witness your own decay,” she curses the man, then thrusts one of her now familiar phase bolts through San and at the cackling madman.
"Abyss take us... not again." His sickness finally gets the better of him and he tries to retch. When nothing comes out and he doesn't feel any better, he fires an arrow at the cultist. In an abundance of caution he only moves forward enough to stand over Vildran to get ready to retrieve their fallen comrades.
As she falls, a distant part of her mind muses with resignation: I thought this would be the end...
-
High on his success, the cultist throws himself into a frothing rage, screaming "THE ABYSS WILL TAKE YOU!" His attacks are reckless, but he still manages to slash San once . Out of the corner of his eye, San sees the cythnigot slinking back into view. The creature begins gurgling and a flare of magic appears around its fungus-encrusted fore-paws.
A phantom pain begins wracking San's body, a pain that joins that of his dagger wound.
|||| INIT ||||
Vildran (12 dmg, wounded 1, unconscious, prone, sickened 1, off-guard)
San (11 dmg, 1d4 persistent mental, sickened 1, off-guard, Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
Morga (20 dmg, wounded 1, unconscious, prone, Rust Creep - Stage 1; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Hooded cultist (10 dmg, frenzied)
Cythnigot (20 dmg)
“Seriously?!” Autumn stands dumbfounded when San, despite trying to retch his guts out, runs right next to the cultist. Why does everyone feel a need to charge into contact with the enemy—even when they fight with a bow?
Unable to see the fungus-hound, she remains confident that they can best one cultist. “Really?” she scoffs derisively at the cultist’s frenzied rage, then blasts another fluctuating bolt of magical energy through San’s torso and into the frothing madman.
The sickness must be affecting his decision making. Why did he go to stand next to the active hostile? Backing off again, he tries to get rid of the nausea.
|||| INIT ||||
Vildran (12 dmg, wounded 1, unconscious, prone, sickened 1, off-guard)
San (14 dmg, 1d4 persistent mental, sickened 1, off-guard, Rust Creep - Stage 2; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Autumn
Morga (20 dmg, wounded 1, unconscious, prone, Rust Creep - Stage 1; -1 penalty on Athletics checks)
Hooded cultist (18 dmg, fatigued)
Cythnigot (20 dmg)
San is still heaving, desperate to recover.
Finally free of the debilitation, he sends a desperate arrow toward the cynthigot harassing Autumn.
Autumn gasps, twisting away from the hound’s slavering jaws in the nick of time. She needs no further encouragement to run. But, remembering the beast’s incredible speed on the open plain above, and the long journey that awaits to the surface, she sprints around the fungus-dog, back towards the corridor she just left. At the doorjamb she turns and pauses for a split second. “San!” she hisses in an urgent whisper. “It’s a dog ... thing. It can’t open doors!”
Having dispensed this nugget of wisdom as her good deed for the day, she puts her safety first, not willing to risk waiting for San as she shuts the door. He’s got opposable thumbs. He can open and close it himself. she consoles herself as she carefully sneaks forward. There’s still a cultist to deal with, but at least it’s not the cythnigot.
Thinking better if his plan, San slips through the door just as Autumn is closing it.
To the west you hear the sounds of the hooded cultist retreating, his sandals slapping against stone. It seems he doesn't intend to come back soon, but it doesn't seem too much of a stretch that he may have friends elsewhere that can come to his aid. As for the cythnigot, its paws scrabble against the metal door for a few moments before it falls back.
Combat Over