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Izah's brows furrow at Jens for a moment, but he seems to take the old human's rebuke well enough; there's plenty of sense to be had in it. To the question posed to them all, the ifrit takes a moment to mentally assess his remaining reserves before speaking to their value. "I can call on two more blessings of modest power before I am reduced to parlour tricks. But I am fully capable of joining the front line when that happens, I have several... tricks yet in store for foes that require a direct approach." Motioning to the scroll cases at his belt, Izah continues. "I am in possession of the scroll we retrieved earlier that would resist environmental hazards related to temperature. There are still the other," he gestures to the cavern floor, "unclaimed scrolls as well." "Beyond that," Izah arches one brow and looks to the unconscious dwarf, "I am as you see."
Golden eyes, glowing in the dim light, flick up to Michael from the dwarf's possessions. "Do not forget who mended your injuries," Izah snarls the response out before tempering his tone and expression like hot metal dipped in water. "Do not mistake my pragmatacism for lack of empathy, paladin. We are injured, running low on resources, and in clearly hostile territory. What this dwarf knows is worthless if we do not survive to relay it to our superiors. Whatever possessions he had will engender our future survival more than the ravings of a madman." Retrieving his mace, leaving the remainder of the items behind for the rest of the group to hand out, Izah stands to his full height slowly. "I shouldn't need to remind you that every minute we spend in these caves, our brothers-in-arms in the Crusade are fighting a battle above." Eyes narrowing, Izah breathes in slowly through his nose and then exhales a slow, calming breath. "I will not let your sympathy get us killed, nor will I waste one sylable of healing magic on that dwarf. Our resources are thin enough. If Lady Elsbeth and the child wish to expend their resources to tend to his wounds, that is their choice." Satisfied with his answer, Izah looks down at the body and the categorized possessions, then over to Aravashnial, Anevia and Horgus. Without another word, he starts to walk back towards them.
Finishing his circuit, Izah kneels down and sets his mace aside, beginning to rifle through the incapacitated dwarf's possessions. Unstoppering one bottle he retrieves from his person, a quick sniff is all it takes to recognize its components. The second is likewise inspected and both held out to Elsbeth. "Healing, and invisibility." Once those are dispensed with, Izah unclasps the dwarf's cloak and rolls it up, setting it aside from the body. "Magic, likewise, but I lack the ability to properly identify its properties. It could well be what caused him to go mad, for all I know." The scrolls are retrieved as well, unrolled and laid side by side before Izah speaks a rumbling incantation and waves his hands over the inscribed parchment. Izah claims one of the scrolls, keeping it in his free hand. "This scroll is arcane magic," he notes of the one remaining. "An electricity effect channeled through the hand. It is of no use to me." Standing up and leaving the other items behind, Izah fastens the scroll case onto his belt, much as the dwarf had been wearing it. "What will you do with our captive?" ___________________
Izah's silence is answer enough, standing not far behind Michael and watching the dwarf bleeding out from the paladin's blade. When Aaliyah moves in to heal the dwarf that had, up until he was stuffed with steel, been intent on killing her the ifrit's mouth downturns into a frown. Holding his disquiet, the Armiger instead chooses to make a circuit around the body, continuing to survey it for magical auras while the others worry about the life of a stranger. __________
"It matters not," Izah intones from behind the two men, "he is dead and will not be sharing any secrets with us now." Glowing eyes flicking up and down as he scans the dwarf's body, Izah begins scanning the corpse for signs of magic. "He has been here for some time, from the state of his attire. He may have a camp nearby, or may not be alone." Brows furrowing the ifrit adds, "We should not linger too long. But first, let me see what other magics this bearded one possessed..." ____________
From the back of the group there is a flash of fiery light as Izah lets out a growl of frustration, flames erupting over the top of his head and down the back of his neck for a brief moment as he raises his shield and mace and strides forward away from Aravashnial and the others. "Enough of this nonsense!" Izah's voice rumbles through the cavern as he pushes past Elsbeth and Aaliyah. As the ifrit advances, he keeps one hand free with his mace dangling at his belt, shield still raised. Though the surface of the shield begins to glow in soft, orange hues that blossom in blotches as he channels his inner flame through the metal. On reaching Michael, Izah lays one black-armored hand on the knight's shoulder and a sudden, searing sensation tingles through the paladin's body. At first it feels like Izah's swift betrayal, but soon the pain of scalding feels invigorating and refreshing, like alcohol cleansing a wound. It's only then that he hears Izah speaking in the flicking tongue of devils. "Dominus de legibus: 'alias vulneribus tuis sanabo caducae purificationem flamma." ____
Infernal: "Lord of Laws, heal this frail knight's wounds with your purifying flames."
Hi All! Just to give you guys a heads-up, I'm super busy because of the holidays and haven't been on the Internet outside of my phone in a few days. I'll be delayed in updating things till this weekend, most likely, though if I manage to steal a little time here and there I will! I hope you all had an excellent week! :D
Scowling as he watches the creature drop on Aaliyah, Izah exhales a huff of hot breath and cinders, marching forward and away from Anevia and the others. "Stand by," he urges, raising his shield and mace as he moves in to clean up this filthy darklands rabble. As he closes the distance, black chain armor rattling, he winds up with the mace and swings down as its head glows red hot, leaving a red streak in the air. _________
With the battle long over and the search of the chapel having revealed some of the stowed goods the dwarves had secreted away, Izah moves into the chamber with a scowl on his face, mace held down at his side. "That wretched creature was locked in here..." he muses, looking down at its remains on pass. "The question is by whom, and how long ago?" A look to the dusty corpse gives a possible time-table, though a worrying one. Leading Aravashnial with him as he walks, Izah brings the wizard over to the recess where the goods are kept. Holding out a hand, Izah extends his senses outward towards the objects with an arcane utterance to sense for the presence of magic. "Elsbeth, if you would be so kind as to furnish Aravashnial with those flasks so that he might identify them," Izah requests, while attentively examining the cubbyholes. _____
Hey guys, just a heads up: December is shaping up to be a real bear at my office as law firms get in their billing in advance the end of the fiscal year, so I've been pulling overtime and generally working harder than usual. As such I've been pretty burned out when I get home so I may miss a day or two of posting here and there up through New Years. Please bear with me and any slowness to respond to stuff.
Choking, gagging and retching, Izah retreats out and away from the cloud of noxious vapors. As he draws back, he tries to call for a withdrawl of the others, but only finds himself able to hack and cough, barely able to see his way out of the structure through bleary eyes. Stumbling out of the temple, Izah shakes his head and slouches his shoulders forward, a stringy line of sizzling mucus dangling from his mouth and nose as he tries desperately to catch his breath. ____________
"I will ensure that you are well armed should we find such provisions in the temple of Torag," Izah notes to Horgus, inclining a horned head towards the man. "I may have high expectations, but I will not squeeze blood from a stone." Then, with a crook of his lips into a half smile he adds, "I leave that to trained alchemists."
So, long-wordy post short, Izah is strongly against camping for a prolonged time because there's probably more horrible things down here and dying cornered in a shrine of Torag sounds like a drag. The proposition is that everyone who needs to rest can take a knee and chill while whoever isn't tired can sweep the temple. Once we're done, we can keep on trucking, probably with Jens carrying Anevia (though if that is the case, Jens shouldn't be up front anymore, because he'd wind up having to put Anevia down in the front ranks every encounter.) Izah could swap places for Jens (he has a high AC) and go more active in combat and put Jens in the defensive position watching the injured/non-combat NPCs. Thoughts?
Izah had been quiet while the others bickered following the swift death of the fly. Squaring a look at the fly's corpse Izah relaxes, unaware of the noise coming from within the structure. Anevia is given a moment of attention as Izah walks by her, assessing her anew with that recent show of marksmanship and competence. Flanked by a pair of extremely competent women, he seems to struggle with the notion that he may have misjudged them both. While Michael works on sowing the seeds of unity within the group, Izah ambles over in Horgus' direction to handle things in a distinctly Chelish way once Michael, Jens and Elsbeth have said their peace. Calmly, quietly and politely the Hellknight approaches Horgus and hooks his mace on his belt, lifting one large hand to rest on her merchant's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly for a moment. Then, leaning in, Izah whispers to the merchant in a hushed tone of voice so as to not embarrass him in front of the others. "My dear Horgus, in spite of her shortcomings of birth Anevia has twice over proven her usefulness to this entourage. Were we in need of cutting dead weight such as you suggested," Izah's hand more firmly grip's the nobleman's shoulder. "Whom do you suspect weighs the most?" Leaning away and letting his uncomfortably warm hand fall from Horgus' shoulder, Izah furrows his brows and gives the man a level but firm look with his luminous eyes. "Fear not, I will ensure you do not fall far from my watchful gaze, Lord Horgus." Drawing in a deep breath, Izah turns to the others and speaks in a more conversational tone. "Companions," the ifrit begins, "while we have endured significant hardship in the last few hours, we must not so readily take refuge when there are greater crisis' at hand. Some are injured, yes, but the majority of us are in good health and capable of continuing on yet further. While this structure seems secure, we have no idea what horrors lie deeper in here and the longer we tarry below the surface the longer the demons above have an opportunity to establish foothold in Kenebres and begin searching for survivors, if the Crusaders were not able to drive them off." Looking to Anevia, Izah inclines his head in a nod, then turns his attention to Michael. "While we may come from different backgrounds, we are all allies of the Crusade against a common enemy. Our brothers in arms fight above us as we speak," and with that he motions overhead. "Our friends, companions, kinsmen and," a look is shot to Anevia, "loved ones," and then back to Michael, "battle without us by their side." Arching one brow, Izah holds out his open palm and gestures around. "Should we not muster all the strength we have to leave this burrow behind? A brief respite of a few minutes to catch one's breath is assured, but setting up a camp is a waste of our time, and whatever time those above have left. If there are those of us with injuries that time can heal, present them to me and I will mend them fully. Beyond this, rest will provide us no balm at present. It will only cost more lives that we potentially could save." "I recommend we able-bodied search this shrine while those who need rest find it, and once our search is completed we continue onward." Izah reaches down to his belt and unloops his mace from the hook there. "The Abyss waits not for men." ______
Looking to Anevia, then Aravashnial, Izah furrows his brows and narrows his eyes in contemplation. It was clear enough to the Ifrit that something unpleasant burned between them, but it was neither the time nor the place to confront it. Not at least until there was some room to breathe. Staying back beside Aravashnial, Izah deferred this time to the wizard's judgment in use of hi magic. Looking to Michael, who seemed eager to be by the door as it opened, Izah waved his mace in a guiding motion towards the door as Elsbeth moved to get in place and push. Gripping his mace tightly, Izah once more took a defensive posture by the injured.
Readied Rolls: >>
Nodding once, Izah brings Aravashnial thirty feet back away from the door and stands beside him, shield and mace out. He checks to ensure Anevia and the nobleman are behind him, then looks to the blind wizard. "Aravashnial, do you have magic that can force open the door?" His golden eyes then tick over to Elsbeth. "If our wizard can release the door remotely, we may be able to keep some distance between ourselves and any threats that may lie concealed beyond. I recommend we take some sort of advantageous formation, though I defer what formation to your tactical assessment."
"Camping down here without fully scouting the area would be tantamount to slitting our own throats," Izah offers an askance look to Michael, "there is a war raging above us. The time for rest will be later." Keeping pace with Aravashnial, Izah continues his circuit of the temple, bringing the blind wizard along with him in the event that he needs his counsel on anything eldritch that may be discovered on his sweep.
---- Remaining beside Aravashnial as they walk, Izah motions with the glowing head of his mace towards the others. "Irrelevant at the moment," he remarks, then gives the caveat of, "unless..." With that hesitation, Izah closes his eyes and furrows his brows. A sibilant series of forceful chanting words slip past his lips, and when his eyes open they shed a brief violet light. "Let me do a more thorough search of the area," the ifrit states, as he begins to sweep the campsight, searching for magical auras around the shrine. "This place is a bastion of Torag, a dwarven god of family and the forge." Moving away from Aravashnial, Izah approaches the building to more closely examine it for an entrance. "If the fearful ignorance of past crusaders drove those twisted by the Worldwound underground," Izah muses as he begins his sweep of the area, "that would sow Kenabres' underground with the seeds of allies for any demonic incursion. Who best to marshall against the crusaders than the descendants of those butchered by them and driven into exile?" Glowing eyes narrowing, Izah seems offended by the notion. "Short-sighted fools." ____
"Seconded, we should not leave enemies behind us." Izah speaks forward towards the head of the group, motioning with the red hot head of his mace towards the camp that Michael indicated. "I can see the creatures, though I am uncertain of their nature. Given... predispositions towards the Hellknights, and that these may be survivors and their hounds," Izah's head inclines towards Michael, "I recommend we send our paladin representative ahead to make contact." Even with that seemingly diplomatic sentiment, Izah begins moving from the back of the group. "We should be ready to move in and lend aid should this become a fracas." Izah moves to stand beside Aravashnial. "I will be your eyes for the time being," Izah notes, and at this proximity Aravashnial can feel the waves of heat radiating off of Izah's form. "I will call out potential targets to you." Izah nods to Elsbeth, then holds his position in wait for Michael's potential parlay. __________
Ready Action Rolls:
>> >>> (1 point is fire damage)
Turning the scale of Terendelev he had taken in his shield-hand over to look at the inner curve, Izah waits patiently towards the rear of the group as Elsbeth performs her inspection of the pack and its contents. When she inquires about the contents of one of the enchanted flasks, Izah steps aside rather than volunteering. "Aravashnial," seems like an odd choice at first, "could you put your elven senses to use for us?" Izah motions with a nod of his head for Elsbeth to bring him the potion. _________
"I hope you are prepared for the consequences of your decision, should they arise," Izah warns Elsbeth with a pinch of his brows together when Michael is volunteered to lead the group. "Very well, let us see the paladin's courage firsthand as he leads our way. I will remain at the rear, Elsbeth, your human eyes are not suited for the task as well. You can stay just ahead if me between the injured and myself. I will keep watch for threats from the opposite side of our light." Then, in partial jest Izah adds, "provided you trust me more at your backs." With that, the ifrit turns to walk down the line and take up the rear, hanging back a few feet behind Anevia, Arvashnial and Horgus. Looking the merchant up and down as he walks by, Izah asks of Horgus, "Have you training with arms?" It's not that Izah has a spare shield or mace, but any bit of knowledge is useful at this point. _________
"Geographically speaking," Izah notes to Elsbeth's assertion, "up is not the only out. I visited the docks of Kenebres on my first day in the city, over a hundred feet above the river. If we can find a westernly outlet that leads to the river, we could use cover of the cliffs to mask our flight." That said, Izah does concede a point to the lady tactician. "But you are correct, until we find out what our options are, we needn't discuss that matter further." "A query, however..." Izah arches one brow, "Would you prefer I lead the way ahead of torchlight? While I may not be skilled at subterfuge and infiltration, I can see where light does not shine with ease. In the dark places, I could serve to give us advanced warning without giving away our position to anything that may be trapped down here with us." ___________
Not bothering to stow his mace, Izah offers a look back to Anevia and Arvashnial then a fleeting glance to Horgus before advancing forward with the others. Izah offers no outward comment to the choice of keeping the scales of Terendelev, though he clearly was watching when the decision was made and seemed, internally, to support the decision. On reaching the others, Izah looks around the cave and then to Elsbeth. "Armiger Izah of the Order of the Pyre," is given as reintroduction, per her request. "Witch hunters and fringe cultist slayers," he explains for the uninitiated. Looking back to the paladin, Izah's brows furrow for a moment, and his fiery stare shifts to Jens, then the dervish, then back to Elsbeth. "Up may not be a wise decision," the ifrit offers thoughtfully. "If we all saw the same carnage before falling into that rift, I believe that on witnessing your prowess in battle and knowing my own we are not capable of lending useful resistance to a threat of that size." Shifting his weight to one foot with a jingle and creak of his armor, Izah looks to Michael. "We may be best served by finding a means of egress from this cavern, then plot a course southwards to Nerosyan to alert Her Majesty the Queen of the events." A look at that suggestion is offered to Elsbeth, then Jens, and it is becoming increasingly clear that he is sequestering Aaliyah from any decision-making process. "As I stated earlier, we may be the only survivors. We have a portion of Terendelev's remains and the potential to return them to a location where they may yet be used to restore the dragon to life, while alerting the leadership of the crusaders as to Kenebres' fate." Eyes like hot coals flick between members of the group, reluctantly including Elsbeth in them and disregarding Anevia along with Aaliyah. "It is the most logical course of action." _________
Sense Motive 20 (Hunch): Izah appears to be excluding most of the women from the decision-making process, save for Elsbeth whom he seems to be begrudgingly respecting in spite of his predispositions. He is likely guilty of male chauvinism, as is common among Asmodean worshippers.
As the enormous spider ruptures and releases a pair of writhing, dog-sized maggots from its abdomen, Izah recoils and tightens his grip on his super-heated mace. Glancing back to Aravashnial and Anevia, he insures that there is nothing coming up from behind them before squaring his focus on the wriggling vermin. Izah watches Elsbeth advance, evaluating her form and finding himself impressed by her precision and agility. Keeping shield raised, he tenses his mace-arm and prepares to strike should the maggots bypass the front line of defense. _________
Readied Action Rolls: >>
Furrowing his brows at mention of the spider, Izah looks up to the cavern's ceiling and narrows his eyes. Retrieving his mace from his belt, the iron head immediately blossoms with patches of red hot light, soon glowing as hot as a coal. Unlike the others, Izah is not quick to leap towards the source of danger and seems content to allow the others to be the vanguard as he retrieves an enormous black shield off of his back patterns with flame designs. Moving to step in front of Anevia and Aravashnial he widens his stance and braces himself. "Conserve your arrows," Izah requests to Anevia over his shoulder, "unless this creature proves too difficult for the others to strike effectively. We do not know how long we will be down here." __________
"Your preconceptions cause you to misunderstand," Izah notes with a brief furrow of his brows. "Firstly, I am no fiend. I am an ifrit, kin of flames and scion of genies." Looping his mace onto a hook on his belt, Izah reluctantly does as Elsbeth asked, if only to defuse the situation some. "Secondly, I never spoke of leaving anyone behind, everyone has a role to serve. Your age does not preclude you from being useful, nor does Aravashniel's lack of sight or Anevia's lame leg. It mitigates our own strength, however..." Kneeling, he begins looking for Aravashniel's spellbook, hoping that it is nearby to the elf. "And when considering we face the legions of the Worldwound," Izah explains, looking up briefly to Jens, "we must consider carefully, all mitigations and plan accordingly." Tossing a loose stone aside, Izah continues to search for the blind spellcaster's tome. "You spoke that we Asmodeans are all about structure and strength. Superficially true, but we are more than that. We are community and civility at its core. The Sisterhood of the Golden Erinyes looked after and cared for the orphans left in the wake of Isger's goblinblood war." Another stone is overturned, a piece of timber shifted aside, still no sign of the spellbook. "I do not plan on leaving anyone behind," Izah emphasizes, so as to ensure the others can hear. "Put your prejudices aside as I am trying to," a brief look is given to Elsbeth and Anevia, "and we may yet make it out of this alive, and together."
"Liability," Izah politely corrects Jens on his choice of verbiage for the elf. "He is likely becoming all too aware as we speak that his lack of sight is a liability, not only to himself but us. Each injured person we ferry to..." he hesitates to use the word, "safety diminishes our overall effectiveness as we ensure their survival. If they cannot contribute, they are liability." With that said, Izah slowly approaches the wizard, mace in hand. "I am certain a long-lived and clever arcanist such as he has something of value to contribute to our prolonged survival," is a plea as much as it is a sentiment, reinforcing his position while giving Aravashniel an opening to expound on whatever scraps of usefulness he can muster. "I do not believe I need to impose on any of you the severity of the situation we find ourselves in," Izah concludes in a hushed, reverent tone. They had seen far mightier champions of the crusade felled by far darker creatures than had ever dared brave the high walls of Kenebres. "We may be all that is left." In that, Izah has a faint hint of apprehension in his voice.
Once Anevia is healed, Izah turns to Elsbeth and furrows his brow with a consternated expression of displeasure. It's not clear what, exactly, he finds disagreement with, and the ifrit is quick to dismiss his own concerns for more practical ones. "This one may walk," Izah gestures to Anevia, "and I have capability to lend healing magic to those whom require it as the First One bestows onto me. I have no need to carry lights, such as you require, as the dark hides nothing from my eyes." Staying beside Anevia until she has risen and taken the crutch, Izah then moves over to where he left his mace and retrieves it, keeping it held fast in one hand. Turning his burning stare down to the elf, Izah looks contemplative. "Aravashnial. Have you magic that you can cast without needing to see the target?" The pleas of the wealthy man in the distance thus far go ignored as Izah sizes-up the usefulness of the wizard. As the minutes tick by and the confusion of the attack fades, Izah clearly becomes more and more implacable and acting in control of the situation, whether the others would prefer him to be or not. Perhaps that is what he saw in Elsbeth's words, a threat to his authority.
Squinting against the dust of falling debris, Izah observes the area where Anevia was now covered in rubble. Then, slowly moves over in crouched posture to loom over Anevia. Looking her up and down with fiery eyes, Izah pauses his inspection only when he hears the call for aid from the man nearby. There is a dismissive gesture to the others to see if they can be of aid to him, while Izah lays a gauntleted hand on her wounded leg, it is uncomfortably warm to the touch. "Torn flesh, ripped muscle I can heal, but bones of such broken quality, yes, are beyond me." Gripping her injured leg firmly, Izah's gauntleted hand begins to glow red hot and flesh starts to sizzle on Anevia's calf, though oddly the sensation is soothing like warm bathwater rather than a hot poker. Concentrating, Izah channels that heat and warmth inward to the marrow of Anevia's leg with pin-prickling quality. As the sensation grows in Anevia's leg, Izah begins speaking in a firm voice a litany of his proudly displayed faith. "O, Fragile form born of impurity and desire. Find balm in the comfort of flame and rejuvination in new beginnings, like embers to ashes and flames to smoke, let your weakness leave your mortal form." There is a pulse of fiery light then, and Anevia can feel the pain in her leg subsiding some. Once the spell has been cast, Izah releases the woman's leg and grabs a piece of wooden detritus from the ground as he rises to stand. One hand is held out in offering to her to help her to her feet, the other holding out the length of wood suitable as a makeshift crutch. __________
"Lord Varmodsson," Izah rumbles, moving along the wall of rubble towards where the woman is pinned by debris, "if you would be so helpful as to assist with leveraging this timber." Izah settles onto one knee and sets his mace down on the ground, the iron head immediately cooling from its red hot state. He grips the beam with both iron-clad hands and braces himself to ready for the lift when Jens arrives. As he waits, Izah looks in the direction of the elven man and purses his lips together in thought. After a moment, the ifrit's brows lower and he looks to be contemplating the consequences of someone permanently blinded. He leaves the elf's fate to the others, even as he notes, "Be still," to Anevia, "and when I say so, crawl out from under the beam as fast as you can." _________
Shifting a pile of rubble aside in the dark, Izah does not look back more than a cursory glance at the sound of the knight's introduction. However his voice carries more active concern than his shadow-concealed posture does. "Iomedean crusader, your discipline will be useful in the coming minutes," the ifrit notes with a crackle and pop of flame behind his voice. "I believe there may be others trapped within the rubble," is spoken with a calm inflection, even as he exhales a grunt of effort followed by the loud clatter of stones on stones. "I have yet to discern a passage out of this chamber, we may need all the hands we can muster to dig our way out." Then, pausing, one of Izah's pointed ears twitches. "That was not your voice," the ifrit notes, looking over his shoulder to the paladin, finally recalling the voice he had heard calling for help in the dark just before fully waking. Tense, he begins to scan the cavern for anyone he missed.
Fiery eyes flit about to areas of the darkness where the torchlight does not reveal what is hidden. "Because, my Ulfen friend..." he begins to walk through the light with clanking footfalls and then into the darkness, leaving only his eyes and the head of his mace visible. "Our survival depends on one another from here on out." Crouching, the creature looks to be inspecting something in the dark. "And you may address me as Izah, Armiger of the Hellknight Order of the Pyre," instructs the voice in the dark, "your eyes in the dark places."
At the reaction Izah's brows furrow and his lips downturn into a momentary frown. Fiery eyes downcast to the ground, then alight slightly as his expression shifts to one more thoughtful. "Fine," is said with something of disbelief, and as Izah notes the superficial dents and dings in his own armor he begins to recognize the lack of injuries among the barrel-chested Ulfen man and the Kelishite woman. Thoughtfulness turns to healthy -- in his eyes -- suspicion. Gradually, as recollection of the past few hours comes back, that suspicion turns into confusion. Why save them?
Stone slides against stone in the dark, the noise of shifting rubble and settling stones. There is also a creak of wood accompanying the sound, then splitting, and clattering. A few more rocks shift, and a deep groan echoes through the cavernous depths that carries with it the crackling pop of a campfire. Aaliyah can see a pair of glowing orange eyes lit up in the dark, like a pair of hot coals. Then, blotchy orange spots come into view below, metal growing hot in irregular fashion, marred by dark patches of still cool steel. "چه ..." the words sound like steam-hissing logs, snapping coals and crackling flames. Teeth are blacklit by an internal fire within whatever creature has awoken in the lightless depths. There is a clank of metal, a scrape of steel on stone, then the jingle of chain. The appearance of a torch being lit nearby draws the creature's attention away from the dark-skinned woman. Slowly, the creature moves into the light of the torch, revealing a tall and broad-shouldered man with crimson hued skin and bald head. A pair of black horns sweep out from the sides of his head and his body is covered in a suit of dusty and dented black chainmail armor and a floor-length black cape trimmed with dark fur. In one clawed gauntlet he holds a flanged, iron mace where all the metal components glow red hot. Emblazoned on the breastplate of his armor is the iron star of Asmodeus. Standing in the dim light at the edge of the torch's illumination, the creature asks in a Chelish accent, "Is anyone injured?" ______________
Ignan: What...
Whoops, I never took Izah's first level oracle revelation! I chose Heat Aura Heat Aura (Su): Heat Aura (Su): As a swift action, you can cause waves of heat to radiate from your body. This heat deals 1d4 points of fire damage per two oracle levels (minimum 1d4) to all creatures within 10 feet. A Reflex save halves the damage. In addition, your form wavers and blurs, granting you 20% concealment until your next turn. You can use this ability once per day, plus one additional time per day at 5th level and every five levels thereafter.
Ahh, that works fine then! I'll re-adjust his traits to remove Contract Master.
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