Myras cackles with malicious glee as his insults confuse and distract the oozes. He continues to mock the largest one viciously.
When Kar snipes the remaining ooze, he shouts “Nice shot, half-elf!”
Rocky burrows back toward the group.
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Racing against time, Rocky bursts from the ground with a stony fist in the air, uppercutting the ooze and following up with a left hook straight to its center of mass.
Myras, meanwhile, shouts in agony as the acid melts his flesh! Seeing the healing elixir offered by the gnome, he quickly drinks it down. His insides tingle coolly as he feels its magical effect. He continues to mock the jellies, focusing on the biggest target, the black pudding, as he sees it seems to have an effect on the foe's performance in the fight; a paradox, given that these creatures are said to be mindless. Even so, they did seem to be very coordinated and calculating...
When an acid-stained Waagic falls to the ground, Myras shouts a word of encouragement meant to revivify him. "Wan Waagic! Wane not where worm burrows;
"You heard the half-elf, Rocky!" Myras tells the elemental, which has just finished splattering the ochre jelly. "Don't worry about us just yet; get to the back of the room and stop those two!" he shouts, pointing to the two jellies eating away at the column. Rocky burrows beneath the soil and disappears, headed for the smaller jellies.
Myras scratches his bare, grey chin as his wide eyes nervously scan the black puddings. Illusions, trickery, invisibility... none of it particularly useful at the moment, not even forcing them to laugh deliriously. "They don't look like the type to have a sense of humor, so I won't try that... but maybe I can force them to retreat a bit!" He decides to ridicule the pudding directly in front of Waagic. "We aren't afraid of you, stinking pudding filth!"
VM:
You unleash a string of insults laced with subtle enchantments at a creature you can see within range. If the target can hear you (though it need not understand you), it must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or take 1d4 psychic damage and have disadvantage on the next Attack roll it makes before the end of its next turn.
This spell's damage increases by 1d4 when you reach 5th Level (2d4), 11th level (3d4), and 17th level (4d4). Seeing his friend's acid-covered hands, and seeing Waagic strike out again, Myras tries to encourage the monk, but his gentle support comes out all wrong. "What are you doing?! Do you want to lose your arms from the elbow down?"
"Atta boy!" Myras cries gleefuly as he sees the elemental's two powerful stone fists slam the jelly powerfully. Turning his eyes to the advancing oozes, his speech tempo increases and he begins to scream in a less self-assured fashion. "Finish it quickly! We need your help over here!" he cires, nervous as the black puddings approach.
Noting the success of his last attempt at psychological warfare, Myras tries to insult the slimy foe once more.
"Get in there, Rocky!" Myras shouts to the party's elemental friend, gesturing toward the advancing ochre jellies. Once again, Rocky melds into the stone floor and reappears just beyond the ochre jellies. Rising from the earth fist first, he slams the ochre jelly once with each great paw.
Fearing the two advancing black puddings, Myras whispers something dark and insulting under his breath, hoping to enchant the (blue-outlined) pudding and break up the advancing front line.
Dissonant Whispers:
Dissonant Whispers Enchantment Level: 1
At higher level
He then steps toward the paladin and claps him on the shoulder, offering a song of encouragement. "Kaaaaaaar's gonna swiiiiiiiiiing from tha chandalier, from tha chandalier!!!!"
Steam rises from Rocky’s stony fists as he pummels the jellies into acidic oblivion and turns on the other ooze, ready to do the same with it. Myras cheers gleefully as the oozes get squished and destroyed.
He says some very nasty things to the remaining ooze. ”You’re next, stinky gloop!”
"Good, Rocky! Good!" Myras shouts in encouragement. Trying to egg on the elemental, whose great arms hiss in pain from the acid, he adds: "I think it whispered something about your lineage being dubious!" The great stony warrior swipes out again, his fists coming down hard on the black ooze. Myras still isn't sure if Rocky knows what he is saying, but he's sure glad Rocky is on his team.
Myras tries once again disorient the greatest of three oozes, trying to terrify the foe long enough for Rocky to get an extra swipe in. He hums a strange, atonal melody that only the ooze can perceive.
Dissonant Whispers:
You whisper a discordant melody that only one creature of your choice within range can hear, wracking it with terrible pain.
The target must make a Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, it takes 3d6 psychic damage and must immediately use its reaction , if available, to move as far as its speed allows away from you. The creature doesn’t move into obviously dangerous ground, such as a fire or a pit. On a successful save, the target takes half as much damage and doesn’t have to move away. A deafened creature automatically succeeds on the save.
Myras jumps in shock as the earth elemental burrows into the ground beneath them. "No, Rocky! Come back!" he shouts, before he sees Rocky burst forth from the earth in front of the black ooze, bringing his great fists down twice upon the deadliest of the foes. "Good Rocky! Smoosh those oozes!"
Having successfully insulted the lesser of two slime-balls, Myras attempted to manipulate the mind of the black ooze with cruel meanness, but insulting the mindless creature proved difficult. "Hey you! You're... uh... stinky and slimy! Do you kiss your mother with that... orifice?"
Cutting Words: When a creature that you can see within 60 feet of you makes an attack roll, an ability check, or a damage roll, you can use your reaction to expend one of your uses of Bardic Inspiration, rolling a Bardic Inspiration die and subtracting the number rolled from the creature’s roll. You can choose to use this feature after the creature makes its roll, but before the GM determines whether the attack roll or ability check succeeds or fails, or before the creature deals its damage. The creature is immune if it can’t hear you or if it’s immune to being charmed.
Myras jogs up next to the elemental and raises his voice. "Rocky!" he shouts, waving to the hulking elemental. "You go smash ooze!" as he voilently gestures with a palm and a balled fist. "Rocky," he says while holding up his fist, "ooze" he says while slamming his fist into his palm. He points, grinning, to the oozes on the other end of the passage, still slamming his palm, hopeful that Rocky will get the message. Capisce?" he asks. As a readied action, if and when an ooze comes within earshot, Myras will shout a stream of insults at it, hoping to demoralize it. "What a useless cube of gelatinous filth! Is this the best the Pudding King has to offer?"
Vicious Mockery: You unleash a string of insults laced with subtle enchantments at a creature you can see within range. If the target can hear you (though it need not understand you), it must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or take 1d4 psychic damage and have disadvantage on the next Attack roll it makes before the end of its next turn. This spell's damage increases by 1d4 when you reach 5th Level (2d4), 11th level (3d4), and 17th level (4d4).
When Nomi informs the party of their new elemental companion, Myras steps forward and holds out his hand toward it, hoping it will shake it in greeting. When it hesitates, he begins to speak to it. "Hello there, and what might your name be?" he asks, tilting his head to one side. You look like a Rocky to me!" he exclaims, pointing his index finger upward in excitement. "I am Myras. MYY - RASSSSSSS." he pounds his chest. "Myras. YOU --- ROCKY" he points at the elemental. "ROCK-Y." Suddenly, as the ghosts appear and the factions display their skepticism, Myras' voice drops half an octave and he shouts in a proud voice:
"I have a feeling our deep gnome friend here will do just fine punching some Puddings," Myras stated with surety, chewing the slippery fungi with a sour look on his face. "In the morning after we have rested ourselves, let us properly lay Cyrus to rest. I sense great unrest in Blingdenstone and anticipate we will need our strength. What a strange several days we have experienced... Basilisks, Ghosts, Curses... I suppose we had best figure out what to do with those eggs Kar begged us to bring." He smirks at Kargoroth.
Rankle's Lecture
You begin a detailed and whimsical monologue on a topic of your choosing. When you begin your lecture, a creature of your choice must succeed on an Intelligence saving throw or fall prone, paralyzed by the maddening chatter of your voice. Each turn it remains paralyzed it takes 5 points of psychic damage. At the end of each of its turns, the creature may repeat the save. On a success, the spell ends.
Rankle with 4 arms would be terrifying. Think of all the gizmos he could lecture on simultaneously.
Myras steps over to Kar, who is trying to lift the body, and helps lift the feet while Kar takes the torso. "Good thing he's a gnome and not a goliath, eh?" he says, smiling to himself before looking awkwardly at the paladin, who doesn't seem interested in gallows humour.
As they walk back to Blingdenstone carrying their companion's corpse, Myras offers a solemn bardic eulogy: "Alas, mighty Cyrus
dark the fey corridor
this mighty young ranger
now we must lay this
so remember and honor
Would anyone object to Myras taking Cyrus' (originally Galinndan's) +2 shortsword?
Myras chuckles and looks to the paladin. ”Excellent job, Kar! he says, striding toward him to pat him on the back. When he sees the trembling knees of the paladin, he stops himself, his hand hovering in the air, afraid he might knock him over with a gentle pat. Slowly returning his hand to his side, he continues. Erm… yes, let’s rest up and get paid! But first I’d like to see if Cyrus’ belongings— I mean if Cyrus is alright!”
The sounds of shrieking alert Myras to the time-sensitive threat. Poor Cyrus, he thought. What a way to perish. Bitterly, he narrows his eyes and curses at the ghastly figures around him, his penchant for alliteration surfacing in his rage:"You half-witted haunts! We're trying to destroy this blasted blade!" He then throws the weapon within the reach of the paladin and monk. "Strike it with all your strength!" Suddenly the dark, adamantium edge appears, hurtling away from the cluster of ghosts. He deftly slips out of the reach of the wraith and specters and shouts a word of encouragement to the paladin, who appears to be stable: "Rise and shine half-elf! Time to hit some stuff!" Rankle feels the invisible half-Drow push past him.
Thanks so much! I am definitely enjoying this encounter!
Proud of his success in luring the specters, Myras attempts to fool them once again. Suddenly, the illusory sword disappears and you hear from the other side of the room rapid footfalls, Myras' cackling laughter and the sound of the sword scraping the floor. "Come on, let's go! I have the blade! Glory to Lolth!" the voice cries.
Invisible Myras moves to get a better view of the action! He steps around the columns and waves one hand toward the bookshelves on the back wall. Suddenly, an exact replica of the Drow sword appears, seeming to fall to the floor. ”Oh no!” Myras exclaims.
Myras sees, one by one, as exits are blocked with ghastly forms. Knowing he doesn't have much time to lose, he quickly wraps his hands in his robe and lifts the blade, careful not to let it touch his skin.
"You want the sword?" he shouts, now holding the dark weapon in his robe-ensconced hand. "Well you'll just have to come and get it!" and then, suddenly, he fades into the stone backdrop.
Waagic feels an invisible half-Drow push past him as Myras tries to confuse the ghosts and distract them from his allies.
Cutting Words: Also at 3rd level, you learn how to use your wit to distract, confuse, and otherwise sap the confidence and competence of others. When a creature that you can see within 60 feet of you makes an attack roll, an ability check, or a damage roll, you can use your reaction to expend one of your uses of Bardic Inspiration, rolling a Bardic Inspiration die and subtracting the number rolled from the creature’s roll. You can choose to use this feature after the creature makes its roll, but before the DM determines whether the attack roll or ability check succeeds or fails, or before the creature deals its damage. The creature is immune if it can’t hear you or if it’s immune to being charmed.
Myras draws his rapier and stabs mightily at the adamantium sword.
Bummer. Thank you for playing with us Cyrus! Now how can we role play this departure? XD
"Jadger! We could use your help down here!" Myras shouts as he squints toward the approaching ghosts.
A shiver runs down Myras’ spine as he examines the curved blade lying alone in the dark drawer. ”Uh, guys…” he says softly, taken aback, ”Not north. I think I’ve found it.” Looking upon the relic, his mind wanders to a memory of armed Drow guards, mercilessly torturing their captives. All the resolve to steal leaves him immediately. ”We must destroy it.” he says matter-of-factly. He pulls the drawer all the way out and dumps its contents on the cold stone floor. ”Is it cursed?” he asks the flying mechanical owl, afraid to lift the weapon.
"Well, Rankle, did it work?" the half-drow says curiously, hoping to draw everyone's attention to the gnome for a moment as the owl flutters through the room. Sleight of Hand:
The glint of precious gemstones catching his cool eyes, Myras stealthily reaches for the valuable rocks, hoping not to alert anyone of his intentions. The opportunity, though risky, was simply too good to pass up as he slides his hand into the drawer, then carefully out into his pocket:
He then advances quickly to the center pillars and begins rifling through the shelves and drawers for further valuables and clues as to the sword's whereabouts. Trying to act normally, he says to Kargoroth, who is currently removing the item from the drawer: "What have you found, half-elf?"
Not sure where to begin, Myras scans the room carefully as they enter with Jadger. Hopefully his keen eyes can uncover something Knowing that the sword is a very recent addition to the room, he looks for areas that appear to have been disturbed or are not covered in dust.
if he sees something:
Myras immediately rushes to it and begins rifling through the shelves. if he doesn’t notice anything:
Myras rushes blindly and hurriedly to the four pillars in the center to begin searching for clues or items on the shelves. Seeing the mechanical owl spin, Myras improvises a like of verse to encourage it:
"As am I," rejoins the half-drow, hoping to see the blade sooner rather than later. When his belt is tugged he instinctively smacks at the hand while grasping for his coin purse. Seeing the gnome there, he crouches a bit lower. "Ah, Professor, didn't know that was you," he adds apologetically. "I thought someone had light fingers." He then holds the arcane device in one hand, lifting it up to eye level. "Thanks for the warning," he says, scrutinizing the gadget. "Wouldn't want to accidentally blind anyone, would we?" he chuckles. Not sure what to make of the gnome's friendliness, he responds warily: "Err... thanks. It is a pleasure adventuring with you." before awkwardly patting the professor on the shoulder.
Myras rubs his bare, pointed chin. "If bringing this weapon into the temple caused the spirits to revolt, perhaps simply taking it away could resolve the problem. We could avoid, er, ectoplasm-shed" he smiles cheerfully at Barrow Warden Jadger "and be on our way, simple as that. After all, haven't we experienced enough violence? Do we really want to be remembered as the heroes who fought the tortured and humiliated spirits of Blingenstone's finest?" He pauses and stares off into the distance contemplatively for dramatic effect before continuing in a soft and earnest voice, locking eyes with the ghost: "Warden, surely you know of some way, no matter how unorthodox, we could pass through the temple's chamber of relics undetected?"
Clearing his throat from the back of the party, Myras says "Please, let me do the talking." "Drow oppressor?" Myras scoffs, advancing slowly from the shadows "I'm no oppressor any more than you are a Drow yourself." He chuckles as he steps forward to be fully in view and rolls his eyes. "Could a slaver do this?" he asks, before belting a very high note he hopes will convince the ghost not to attack, spreading his hands out to each side. "Bling-den-" He sings, before offering a low bow to the ghastly gnome. Myras Hlaviir, at your service. The finest skald the Underdark has ever known, and handy with a lute!" he boasts with a wink. "I'd offer to sing you a ballad but you'd have to prove that your death was worthy of song." Quietly sizing up the ghost from head to toe, Myras continues: "Don't mind my hasty friends here. They mean you no harm, of course. That acid'll rub right out. They're just very protective. We have come down together to cleanse this temple, and if you speak true, then it sounds like we have identical ends. Let us help you calm your friends down and purify this temple for good. Or if you'd rather, we can all leave you here to your own devices," he says while turning to go, bluffing.
Taking his seat by the others, Myras listens quietly to the conversation. He squirms uncomfortably when Blacknight is mentioned. "Best not to dwell on such things," he adds, shifting his weight from left to right with a faint grimace. "The drow have not grown any less ruthless in the last hundred years. Trust me. The things I have seen them do to prisoners... the beatings they endure..." he shudders. Taking up the small glowing artifice in one hand, his cold eyes scan it, trying to discern its secrets. "It is a very strange magic you practice, gnome." he says to Rankle, turning the glowing orb gently clockwise. "Perhaps it may be of use against these ghastly beings, whatever they are. Who will lead us into the haunted temple?" he asks, tossing the orb carelessly back and forth between his hands.
Family emergency. Will update tomorrow.
"Well, unless you know of a safe keeper who would be interested in taking these off our hands, Myras says, patting an egg," I suppose it's best if we make for cemetery to look for Glyphic Shroomlight. Lolth knows if we're good at anything, it's cleansing temples!"
"Dear, dear Nomi! How delightful to see you again! Howsoever are you doing? You wouldn't believe it— we managed to eradicate the basilisks in the temple of Ogremoch's bane! Fine swordsmanship from old Kar here meant they didn't pose a significant threat to any one of us! Not desiring the blight to remain in such a holy, sacred, and noble space, we purged it of the residual foes-in-ōvō . Far be it from us to want to see them hatch in Blingdenstone, or return to those holy halls, we simply had to remove them! We were wondering if you knew of a collector who might pay sufficiently for their worth?"
Myras would love to learn AAAAARGH.
Myras, picking an egg up with both hands, looks to the professor and says "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm making us a fortune, unlike your research!" He then turns to Kar and says "No, of course we don't want to *keep* them! I just want to sell them. They certainly aren't going to do anyone any good if we leave them in the temple! Besides— think of the fame, the glory that awaits us when we return bearing proof of our exploits!" He then begins composing a song about the prowess it took him to lead the group down into the deep caves, discovering an ancient religious site and decapitating basilisks!
Myras eyes the eggs in the nest before gazing back at the now-slain basilisks.”You know, these might be worth something! Perhaps someone in Blingdensrone would pay for these! Not to mention whatever valuable components we could harvest from the parents.” He raises a hand to volunteer and says ”I would be happy to return to inform Nomi of our success and collect our reward.” Scratching his pointed chin, he adds: ”didn’t she say something about cleansing another temple? The rough ruby or something? Perhaps there’s a reward for that, too!”
Myras' pale eyes glint with a hint of fear as he recognizes what they're up against. He swears under his breath and then you hear a horrible, amelodic whisper emerge from his mouth. Dissonant Whispers:
Dissonant Whispers
Enchantment Level: 1
You whisper a discordant melody that only one creature of your choice within range can hear, wracking it with terrible pain.
Myras then retreats deeper into the cave, further from the basilisks and the safety of the group. "Anybody, uhh... know how to use a circle like that? We sure could use the help!"
Smirking at the smug gnome, Myras adds ”Yes Rankle, I’m glad you found a way to make yourself useful! Perhaps when we return to Blingdenstone, you can put your feet up!”
Myras bursts out laughing at the stone-licking deep gnome. ”Oh this is definitely going in a song!” he says. Even so, he’s not sure what to do next so he feels the walls of stone and speaks some gibberish intended to mimic Gnim.
The party is still chomping away at the breakfast tables of a Blingdenstone inn when Myras stands up. "I can't wait any longer! I have this itching feeling we were so close yesterday. Let's return to the caves and pick up where we left off. Whatever you did yesterday, do it again, but better!" Still a little put off by Rankle's comments yesterday, Myras strides over to where he is seated and says: "I won't have another day of you moping about. We just clobbered a Medusa, do you understand? You don't come off of a high like that by whining like a little school-gnome! Your feet are going to hurt, your hands are going to get calloused and I want to see you digging around in that gnome-hole until we uncover something or your fingers go numb and you can't dig anymore, you hear me?" Given his bold tongue, it's ironic that his survival intuitions are weak today, but he keeps on singing his strange Drow poetry to encourage the others.
“Waagic, come over here a minute, would you? To my keen eye this pyramid appears to be crafted by a race not unlike yours... have you ever seen such things before? Would you know if it leads us to another pyramid?”
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