Former vampire blood ‘donor,’ now cleric of Urgathoa, serving his own hunger.
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Mordecai attempts to keep panic from seizing control of him as he struggles to reach shore.
He then attempts to swim to the shore of the island, or, if there's a convenient dark elven corpse, shove it between him and the hungry fishie. (Given his swim check above, he probably fails to get very far...)
Mordecai does his best to remain calm and get out of the water as quickly as possible. If he's not in a good position to do so, he tries to push one of the dark elven corpses in the direction of whatever is lurking in these waters, in hopes that it is motivated to take a bite of that easy meal, instead.
Mordecai draws one last time upon the fleeting traces of the Pallid Princess' alien hunger, as he pulls his Morningstar from his belt.
Mordecai attempts to remain calm and pull himself up out of the water. What possesses these northern savages to live so close to the cold stinking treacherous sea? Give me warm sun and clean sand, any day!
As another wave of dark energy pours from him and the sound of unseen carrion flies grows around him, Mordecai growls, "I serve the Eternal Hunger. I will *not* be eaten!"
"Oh hells," Mordecai says under his breath as the sodden wood gives way beneath him and he plunges shoulder-deep in the brackish water, with only a fortunate last minute death-grip on the edge of the pier saving him from dropping entirely below the surface.
Mordecai feels the darkness tearing from his body like a river of ice, and feels suspended, as if trembling on the precipice of a great hungry void, pulling the lives of his foes past him to be devoured by oblivion. The sensation causes him to laugh involuntarily as he continues to channel the power of the Pallid Princess. "Death is my gift to you all!" he cries out, as the negative energy continues to wash over the room, swirling past his allies like a river around stones, to only draw vitality from their elven foes.
Mordecai sees Tyrrol before him, and suspects that his immediate impulse will be to charge the blighted elves before him, and so he waits for that to happen, before moving up behind him and unleashing his dark lady's 'blessing.'
If no enemy is within sword's length of him, Mordecai will rise to his feet, offering Lecian a curt nod of thanks, and attempt to get his bearings. If foes remain within ten paces of his position, he will call upon the Pallid Princess once again to strike the life from their blighted bodies.
If none are within range, he will step forward until some are, but has no time for further action.
And Mordecai decides that this is a great moment for a nap...
Mordecai continues to move forward as best he can, trusting to his skills at navigating in the lightless hallways of his former mistress to help him keep his footing. When he feels that he is within ten paces of as many of these blighted elves as possible, he unleashes the dark sacrament of his goddess upon them. "Death be upon you, dogs!"
Somewhere in the confusion, the spectral scythe he has conjured continues it's attack.
"I suppose we are going to have to fight them on their terms, instead of wait them out." Mordecai says, some of Tyrrol's fatalism rubbing off on him. He calls up another scythe of dark energy, and directs it to attack the nearest dark elf, stepping into the room, shield raised.
"Hold the doorway, make them come to us, do not let them dictate our actions." Mordecai says quietly. He is unsure if it will have any effect on the darkness they have generated, but he calls forth light on Tyrrol's pocketwatch.
"Let them come to us, that may strike them down as they enter this chamber one by one." Mordecai says.
Mordecai, seeming to notice the wounds he has taken for the first time, stopping to cast a spell upon himself before asking belatedly, "Do any others suffer injury and require healing?"
Afterwards, looking at the items that Lecian and himself have identified, Mordecai will scoop up the items, except for the leather armor, and look to Lecian, "Can you make use of this wand? If not, we'll sell it and divide it's value later, along with the rest of this swag." "The armor is masterwork, but I don't feel like lugging it out of here. If someone of stronger stuff than myself wishes to, that would be excellent."
Spoiler:
wand of produce flame (24 charges), +1 spear, masterwork dagger, two silver bracelets worth 50 gp each, silver ring worth 100 gp Mordecai will holster his morningstar and hold the magical spear in one hand as they proceed.
Mordecai shows naught but irritation at the raking claws of the demon, and his spiritual scythe continues to attack the creature.
He steps from the creature, and sends his morningstar to the attack, carried on spectral hands not his own.
Mordecai is startled by the beast that has leapt upon Lecian, and makes sure to keep a step between himself and the brute as he calls upon the black scythe of Urgathoa to reap this creature down.
Once Lecian is prepared, Mordecai nods and says, "Let's investigate, but be wary of any surprises our mystery guest has left behind to hinder pursuit..."
"See, if we'd brought a Paladin along, we would have been in for a pointless fight, and this poor woman would still be cursed to this place, returning a few days after he moved on." Mordecai says smugly, before turning to see examine the area for anything worth liberating.
"As I understand it, yes, but the state of undeath is generally a state of defying the rules about such things, so it's not always that cut and dried..." Mordecai whispers back.
Mordecai mutters an incantation softly, to attune his eyes to the glow of magic and attempts to peer into the cave around the ghostly woman.
"Tell us of this Yaris, kind lady, that we may seek him out for you..." he says in an earnest tone.
"The language is unknown to me as well, I leave it to your arcane scholarship." Mordecai says to Lecian, as he winces at the racket Tyrrol is making. "It may be more conducive to study to move back a bit..." he adds, grabbing the strangely hued elf by the boot and dragging him back across the room, so that he is not so close to Tyrrols arcing flail. He then thanks the goddess for stealing the life of this creature, and begs her indulgence to open his eyes to the glow of the arcane as he begins to search the dark elves bodies for swag. detect magic
Mordecai steps forward to behind where Lothan has entered the darkness, and calls upon Urgathoa. "As lights flicker and dim, so let life's flame gutter and die." The sound of buzzing carrion flies and the stench of rotting flesh fills the air as he grips his unholy symbol in a hand that grows pale and withered.
"I speak Goblin, so I'm fluent in gibberish." Mordecai mutters back. "That's not gibberish..." Mordecai casts a light spell on Lothan's blade, and then steps forward after Tyrrol, his own continual flame locket ablaze upon his breast.
"I have light," Mordecai says softly, so that his voice does not carry, gesturing at the glowing pendent around his neck. "Although Lecian's arcane light would also be welcome, so that we are never reliant on a single light source."
He reaches forward to Lothan, intoning a soft word, and uses his wand to stitch up some of his most recent injury.
Mordecai pulls out and opens his copper and blood agate locket of continual flame, as a light source.
Mordecai looks less amused than he normally does by Tyrrol's fatalism, but nods, "Agreed."
Mordecai flails about, attempting to regain his balance, muttering a blasphemous Osirioni profanity.
He closes his eyes for a moment in reflection, as his heart hammers in his chest. 'Beloved goddess, thank you for reminding me that I am ever but a single step away from your white kingdom.'
Mordecai calls upon Urgathoa's grace, once again.
"Would you be so kind as to give me a hand over, Lothan? I am quite unused to this sort of excursion..."
Mordecai will follow, refreshing his incantations periodically, and keeping an eye behind to watch for Lecian.
"This seems a nigh-impossible route by which a man struggling with purloined paymaster's chest full of precious skymetal would travel..." Mordecai observes quietly, keeping his voice low, in case there are unseen eavesdroppers behind them. "Perhaps he lowered the stolen materials to some hiding place below this ledge?"
Mordecai offers the blessing, such as it is, of the Pallid Princess to those who brave the edge.
"Some sort of rope, if anyone has one, might be a good idea..." he offers.
Are we still rolling for hit points? If so; Ooh, an above average roll! Four more levels of sixes and I'll be up to average hit points. My dice are really, really encouraging Mordecai's plan on becoming undead someday... Also, done.
"Perhaps we should see where he has been going?" Mordecai concurs, "Agreed." It would be good to know where all the skymetal has gone, after all... he thinks. "Perhaps Akron should remain here to keep an eye on Clegg's condition and make sure that he does not suffer a setback? I can give you some basic healer's instruction on how to keep him from slipping away." Mordecai offers, suppressing the urge to grin.
Mordecai looks put out at having to talk to the filthy rabble, but puts on a somber face and cleans Clegg's wounds, talking care to get some of the unconscious man's blood on his hands and breastplate. He steps from the tent, where the various thugs and ne'er do wells are no doubt gathering to discuss what little they can comprehend of their future. "Gentlemen," he begins, trying not to make the word sound like mockery, "Clegg is stable, and I believe that the power of the goddess can prevent his transformation into a mindless beast." "But for now, he is in no condition to lead this expedition. As he may recover shortly, it might be best to stick to whatever chain of command he has established, rather than run amok, and risk his wrath when he recovers, although that choice remains yours to make. I intend to do all in my power to keep him alive, as it would be in my own best interests to have one of the most powerful men in Riddleport look upon me favorably." Mordecai pauses, before asking of the assembled men, "I would ask of you, it seems that Clegg was lured from this camp and beset upon by hostile forces. Did anyone among you see him depart earlier this evening, and was he with anyone, or behaving suspiciously, as if coerced or enchanted?"
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