Iosif silently walks away and fires at yellow with his musket through the cultist.
One of the cultists manages to strike Enoch as he barrels past them to reach Loomis . Ethyl's second claw and Iosif's bullet land their hits. Enoch's sword strikes upon use of the hero point.
Loomis looses a strangled cry as the paladin's magical shortsword carves into her side. She lunges for Enoch, her fingers clawed as she attempts to grapple him. Succeeded barely, the ancient woman proves her strange strength and wrestles Enoch to the ground, her forearms and hands finding the aasimar's throat.
The Apostles continue to attack the party, now keeping a barrier between them and Loomis.
and wail on Ethyl and ignores the floating staff and strikes at Alvar.
Iosif fires once again at the nearest one to him as he takes a step back to not be attacked.
Ethyl can feel a slight breeze behind her back as the sylph, hidden from sight, moves away from the wall into a more open position. The rest of the room can only hear cackling laughter of Nyarai emanating through the space.
Ethyl spits up blood as she is repeatedly whacked by the cultists. Not good, could be internal bleeding.
She shuffled back so that she couldn't be surrounded and tried to end a human life.
Alvar steps swiftly back from their attacker and hisses a spell, unleashing a weakening ray at Loomis with a flick of their many-fingered hands. That should keep her weaker than she'd otherwise be. They glance at the other cultists, focusing their attention on the one closest to them. Next, protecting myself.
Enoch simply smiles at her apparent fondness for him.
Tether those feelings. I'm spoken for.
The Paladin continues to Smite her!
He swiftly Lays on Hands himself.
Despite the ferocity of the party, none of the enemies have fallen yet, though they too are showing weakness and blood. The wizard's ray works, and Enoch breaks free of the woman's arms, watching as the muscles atrophy. Loomis is bloody, stumbling to her feet to cough up blood.
The Apostles, seeing Loomis' state, send two to her side. remains to swing at Ethyl while and rush to reinforce Loomis.
dies as he turns his back to Ethyl, his back blown out, but the other two hit their targets.
Ethyl felt and heard the sharp crack of her ribs fracturing. She felt faint and the tangy smell of blood filled her nostrils. She drew in a ragged, painful breath and ordered her thoughts. One fled foolishly, they had died, she barely thought about the move. Ethyl fell upon the remaining Apostle with a mad glint in her eyes.
Ethyl feels eyes on her back as the air outlining her person shimmers briefly. Immediately after that, you all hear quiet cackling coming from an unseen source in the room, but it does have Nyarai's voice colour.
Alvar focuses their attention on the cultist harassing Enoch, hissing a whisper that promises hellish torment on the human's mind and body.
Iosif, once again, aims to pump yellow full of lead as the light in the room once again is sapped little by little.
The Paladin continues to Smite her!
The Paladin only nods at the Yellow Cultists.
I see you're wearing your yellow pants. Good call.
In twenty seconds, the three thugs and Loomis were lain low. The rest of the camp now regarded the five of you with wide eyed fear and ... relief? Wren appears out of the crowd and holds up his hands.
"Calm, my friends, remain calm! These are our new guardians! Zandalus has anointed your new watchers by freeing you of she who ruled with fear! The Bag Lady's madness will no longer frighten us! We are free! Free!" He casts a frantic look to you five, hoping for cooperation as he tries to maintain order. Other armed Apostles - about a dozen - are seen waiting for the scene to escalate. Things could devolve if not handled carefully now.
Strands of textile appear in the air and quickly swirl around to form a cocoon of clothing before falling to the ground. Where they were forming, Nyarai stands. She looks at Wren and walks closer. "When did deception improve your situation in the long term? Stop lying to these people.", she whispers.
She proceeds to walk to Loomis' corpse and starts pulling things out of her pockets while taking note of the onlookers. In case they try something dumb.
Ethyl pulls out a vial of something viscous and the dark like color of blood. She downs the concoction, it tasted like copper, but her bones began to set, letting her breath easier.
She rasped at Dr. Elbourne, "How much time do you think we have to prepare? An hour? Ten minutes?" She began to idly flipped through her formula book and pull out ingredients.
Alvar sighs heavily as the last cultist falls, glancing over the group. I should've helped Enoch and Ethyl more than I did. Thoughts for later. To complete Wren's bluff, Alvar steps forwards. "I have dreamt his words, that we might come and strengthen the enforcement of his will upon this world." Even as they speak the words, they wince inwardly, aware that they're falling flat.
Blood drips slowly down the dirty white robed Paladin's magical shortsword to drip, drip, drip into the empty silence of the aftermath of revolution .
Bold blue eyes stare about the nervous smelling chamber. Enoch's firm and ready stance indicator of possible further exercising of... malcontents.....
Pilfering through some old lady pockets, Nyarai raises her head towards Alvar and lets out a quiet, disapproving sigh.
The crowd devolves into chaos as panic and mania take hold. With the looming threat of the Bag Lady no longer over their heads, a mad scramble for supplies and protection breaks out. Those wearing yellow robes are overwhelmed and the noise becomes deafening. However, no one goes near the party.
Wren's face pales as he tries to be heard over the sudden but expected chaos. the five of you are practically invisible as desperate nihilism takes hold of the camp.
Ethyl sighs as she puts her kit back away, barely able to unpack anything from her kit. She calmly states, "I don't like out chances if Zandalus chooses to reimpose order on this rabble. It seems we use this at least as an opportunity." She moves to the stairs, pain spiking through her still tender ribs as she ascends.
The Paladin shrugs. He follows Ethyl up the stairs.
If anyone wants to heal us prior to our full ascension....
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Knowing there is probably little she can do the quell the chaos in the room, Nyarai follows the group upstairs. She briefly brushes her hand against Ethyl and Enoch, whispering soothing words to both. "There, there..."
4/4/2
4 Cantrips:
Dancing Lights
Stabilize
Mending
Touch of Fatigue
Rank 1:
Detect Secret Doors
Identify
Mage Armor
Unseen Servant
Rank 2:
Glitterdust
Touch of Idiocy
Alvar shakes their head silently as they follow their fellows, mentally preparing for the confrontation that is almost certain to come next. Teach me to improvise lies on the spot, I suppose...
Enoch's steps seems to be a bit more confident after Nyarai's touch.
Much appreciated as I suspect my blood will be spilled in short order...
Iosif per usual takes up the rear as he loads his gun with a proper bullet as opposed to a flimsy alchemical cartridge, but is otherwise silent.
Alvar considers their options for a few moments, then summons a shield of magical force before themself. "We'd best do this quickly." They say after they've finished their spell. "The magics I work will not last terribly long."
The sounds of chaos are left behind as the party heads up the stairs. They reach the second floor, marked by most of the upper halls collapsed beneath their sagging ceilings. The first room they enter seems to be the lair of the late Loomis and her closest cronies, a chamber that has almost entirely collapsed upon itself. Shattered pieces of wall and ceiling timbers, knotted like broken fingers, slump precariously. Despite the chamber’s near ruin, a number of tables, chairs, and bedrolls lie about the room. A hall choked with fog lies through a gap in the wall to the north.
On the small table a half-played card game is left out, using the popular Harrow cards of Varisian tradition. The deck, while battered, sports unique artwork and would be worth 100 gp to a collector.
Rummaging through this room will also turn up a bag that contains 200 gp worth of various coins and jewelry, 12 bite-sized pieces of jerky, and a pearl tooth worth 18 gp.
Nyarai enters the room expecting it to be occupied by someone. When she realises it is actually not, she sighs in relief. She examines the contents of the tables, looking for documents or art, but only finds an unfinished card game. She touches the cards briefly, her fingertips dancing on the table as she looks through the deck.
She stops, quickly pulling her hand away from the table as if stung. She leans in closer without touching, looking at something. "Interesting art. Maybe our friend's handiwork?", she beckons for others to come closer and take a look.
"Are these even playing cards? Seems like a, uh... soothsayer deck?"
Ethyl glances at the card and comments, ”Doesn’t he work in charcoal landscapes? I suppose it's possible.”
Out of sight of the crowd and immediate danger Ethyl tentatively begins to set up her alchemy kit, pulling glass vials, titrator, mortar and pestle, and ingredients.
Tense! Tight! Teeth too much clenching!
Enoch's blue eyes look around the partially collapsed chamber. He looks at the myriad of bedrolls, pillows, teddy ears with their heads torn off scattered haphazardly about. His sword hand gripping so hard the vines begins to pulse. His Shield arm raised in front of him, posed for dark and dirty cultists shananagins!
Nothing.
Huh.
Watching the Doctor setting up shop, the Paladin stations himself at any egress.....
Alvar looks over the room with a slight frown on their lips. "Well, at least Zandalus isn't personally here..." They say slowly, then look to the table as Nyarai and Ethyl point it out.
"Harrow, is it? I'm not very familiar. But that card..." They point at the Foreign Trader. "The color yellow continues to come up. Prophecy is not reliable, of course, but I can't help but wonder whether someone was performing a divination and that card indicates something about the Apostles - or possibly the Tatterman or Zandalus himself."
After a moment's consideration, they add. "Of course, given all that has happened of late, and the state of the rest of this room, I suspect this... spread was set out recently."
Enoch peers northeast. Cracked pillars bent at broken angles support a sagging ceiling. While most of the walls look ready to fall apart, the northern wall has done so, creating a massive gap open to the strange weather beyond. Opposite it, the wall in the best repair is laden with parchment pages covered in stark lines of coal and chalk. A hall stretches to the west.
Three more oneirogens linger here, yellow fog spewing from their gaping mouths. One wanders in a tight but slow circle to the north while two sit or lie on dirty piles of bedding . Enoch also notes that there are loose papers with faded and half-erased charcoal sketches fluttering close to the southern wall of the next room on a non-existent breeze, sometimes coming to rest on the drawing covered wall like albino bats or moths.
Enoch's blue eyes look at the triplets of smoldering appeal with a sigh. The Paladin knows that Ethyl's disgust with these fog spewing soda seem to soften her slightly.
Enoch simply whispers to Alvar.
Alvar! Better come look at this. But don't let Ethyl know because it will freak her out.
The Paladin pantomimes pretending to pee....
"Hmm." Alvar shakes their head at the cards. "No, no. This isn't a divinatory spread. Possibly just a game? An odd omen, regardless."
They pause, looking at Enoch, then slowly approach his position. Now he decides to be subtle. Well, better late than never, I suppose. They glance in the direction of the oneirogens, then frown. "Well. That's more than we've dealt with before. We'll have to be careful." They glance at Ethyl before slowly moving back, their tail flicking rapidly. "There are three more oneirogens over there." They tell their compatriots quietly. "I'm not sure I'd like to risk the possibility of sleep from all of their... gas, but we should be prepared."
Once her concoction was ready she imbibed it, solidifying her natural aura into barrier that can stop the physical. She looked forward with trepidation, now faced with not one but three oneirogens. She cautiously approached after Alvar and Enoch and paled at the scene.
Nyarai remains close to Ethyl, producing a soft breeze that disperses the strange fog. At least locally. When Alvar shares details on the situation, her eyes widen and she clutches her scarf. "Three?", she mouths quietly and peers around the corner to see for her own eyes.
"I guess we had assumed it was going to be the case that they were all separate. Bother."
Iosif may as well have just shot the oneirogens.
Despite the party's attempts to be silent, the three oneirogens hear - or sense - their presence. Blank, fog-spewing faces turn south to face you. A voice - muffled and echoing - scrapes on your eardrums.
"You have woken our brother! You will not end the dream! You will not repair the veil! You will not silence the Orpiment!"
wander south towards the intruders, while double moves to get close enough to the party that its fog begins to envelope them.
Enoch's blue eyes silently suggest his disappointment in Alvar, as the Doctor Strides around the corner to almost faint at the sight of the Three Abdominal Stooges.
Sighing as the previously mentioned Abdominal Three Stooges seem to be experiencing some antisocial behavior at their noisy approach....
Kissing his Shield and lifting his magical shortsword, the Paladin does his thang!
The determined steps taken by the Tortured Crusader be speaks of Pharasma being present!
He Strikes!
EDIT!
Nyarai breathes in the foggy air and blinks twice, slowly, as her head lowers towards her now sagging shoulder, then snaps back to focus.
"Oh, they're...", she seems surprised for a short moment. ...coming to us? Okay."
Air shimmers around Alvar as she looks at the cambion, and her loud laughter echoes through the fog-filled room.
Protective Luck (Su) (Heroes of the High Court pg. 9): The witch can cause fate to twist so that it benefits a creature within 30 feet for 1 round. Whenever that creature is targeted by an effect that requires an attack roll, including weapon attacks, the attacker must roll twice and take the worse result. At 8th level and 16th level, the duration of this hex is extended by 1 round. A witch cannot use this ability on herself. Hexes that affect the fortune hex, such as cackle, also affect protective luck.
As the oneirogen approaches, Alvar feels drowsiness flooding over them, and they stumble, collapsing into sleep.
Ethyl approaches the oneirogen cautiously, she knew intellectually that the fog could not hurt her, but it was the things in the fog that could, and the fog of that proportion surely could not contain something that would be too dangerous. Viscerally she was lying to herself but it was the push she needed to act. At least she knew, from evidence that she was not affected by the soporific cloud directly.
Iosif just fires away at the closest oneirogen.
Despite Ethyl's phobia kicking in, she and Iosif lay the closest oneirogen low. The fog sputters and ceases to flow, and the abomination poses no further threat to Alvar.
Enoch, as you do hit the creature, you note that Pharasma's holy power does not do the damage you thought it should. These oneirogens are not evil, despite their use. The two remaining oneirogens slam onto the paladin.
Move. Fire at the closest oneirogen..
Nyarai hops over some rubble, and looks at Enoch getting smacked around. The air shimmers and her vocalisations echo throughout the room.