"Grrr!" Wherby growls, trying to figure out what to do next. He's no adventurer to know how to deal with a problem like this...
He backs away from Tekmin and casts a protective spell.
Stride away from Tekmin, cast shield, I guess RK on the invidiak to see if there's something specific we can do against the possession. Occultism (trained):1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 25
"Thanks, but we're not interested," Wherby grates. "We just want to go home, but there are some idiot cultists worshiping a devil here, and that's causing problems."
Wherby hangs his head for a moment. "Can we pretend I don't hear anything? If I did hear anything, I'd probably say Minargul got some common sense and decided to go make something useful of themself, instead of causing trouble."
"Well, that remove disease scroll will come in right handy, since we're definitely going to come down with some pestilence for being down here," Wherby complains.
He picks up the sling, giving it an experimental whirl. Maybe a backup weapon for me? Might be able to use it every other turn around spellcasting...
"No one's going to kill you!" Wherby snaps. "Just tell us what you all were doing down here? And why did you try to kill us?! None of that is normal behavior!"
Wherby concentrates, maintaining the spell on the one cultist, and casting a new spell -- a more powerful one than he's ever cast -- on another. He growls in frustration at all the people trying to kill them.
Wherby glowers at all the cultists, but particularly one of the ones attacking Tekmin. The boy would probably haunt him even more dead than alive if Whereby somehow made it out of this.
Cast evil eye (DC 22 Will) on an uninjured cultist, cast needle of vengeance (DC 22 Will) on that cultist (if it attacks Wherby), cast guidance on Tekmin
Wherby relays the information but follows Tekmin with resignation if he heads for the door. Someone needs to keep the halfling from dying horribly. Even if it means Wherby will probably die horribly in the process.
Ursividae hisses at the self-proclaimed apprentice in irritation.
"What the?" Wherby says, glaring at the awful thing -- like out of some story of times past before turning his gaze from Tekmin to the awful thing holding onto him and putting the true power of his irritation behind it as he just manages to pull free. He quickly retreats!
"Maybe those really were its footprints?" Wherby says as he carefully approaches the wooden statue to make sure it's not an old Ibyldosian trick where the wooden structure is empty and hiding enemies.
[b]"Well, if I die here, I want my headstone to say 'I told you so!' " Wherby grumbles.
Meanwhile, wings sprout from Ursividae's back, letting the small ursine ball of spite fly. He got an extra familiar ability, so we'll give him flight today.
Wherby sighs heavily, agreeing with Tekmin. Someone has to do something about the demon, and there's no foolhardy adventurers here. He glances back, in case one is about to rush in. They always seem to show up at opportune times to cause trouble.
Wherby sighs. It seems like they're doomed here one way or the other. And if this thing in front of them can't defeat this demonic Stain, that probably means it's very deadly."
Religion (untrained) to Recall Knowledge on the demon:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
"No!" Wherby snaps. "The answer is no, we're not going to serve the creature that has a noun for a name that we've never heard of until we entered some dark dungeon!"
He glares at Tekmin and Herok. I'm very tempted to Demoralize BOTH of you!
"Well, this is awful. They're either going to try to kill us, which is bad enough, or they think we're adventurers come to save them from something that will instead kill us. Which means we're going to die ignominiously either way!"
Wherby looks at Tekmin. And then at the spoon. Then back at Tekmin.
"We need to take a break!" he suddenly snaps. "The boy clearly isn't feeling well. He probably caught the lurgy or some other awful adventurer's flux."
He starts dragging the halfling to the cleanest place to sit him down and check on him.
"Leave it alone, Tekmin!" Wherby snaps. "That's probably acid, or poison, or some horrible ooze that will paralyze you and eat you! You used to hear stories about those, but you don't anymore. Do you know why? Because they eat everything that encounters them so no one comes out and tells those stories. Or maybe the armor's cursed and weighs you down so you just drown! Those are the things that happen to adventurers!"
He tries to patch up the goat -- but it's moving too much at first. He also takes time to Refocus and restoke his annoyance with everything.
Nature (expert) to treat wounds vs. DC 20:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (4) + 14 = 18 Nature (expert) to treat wounds vs. DC 20:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (17) + 14 = 31Healing:4d8 + 10 ⇒ (7, 6, 4, 8) + 10 = 35
"No!" Wherby sighs as Tekmin rushes forward. "Adventurers!" he curses, looking back at the badly injured goat, but figuring it's too late to do anything about whatever awaits them ahead.
"Now I'm hungry. Shame to die when I'm hungry," Wherby grumbles.
He glares at the nearest spider, and wishes it ill if it attacks Tekmin casting evil eye and needle of vengeance on it, naming Tekmin. Then he casts magic to protect himself.
Wherby looks at it, only slightly encouraged by the fact that it's not attacking immediately. He tries to usher the others back, hoping they can avoid another fight.
"It's not just some rural legend, it probably ate any goblins that were still here," Wherby grouses. "But I guess if we must, let's check that door first."
"It's all just rumors. Though if you insist, we can go try to find some of these farmers or travelers, who will tell us it was nothing. Unless they're adventurers, in which case, they'll try to extort money from the village to deal with this alleged problem!"
Wherby sighs heavily. "We're just goingt o have to stay up some night to prove it's NOT the Sandpoint Devil. I'm pretty sure that's just a myth, though. Doesn't really exist! Like rodents of unusual size."
"It's probably a griffin, or a hippogriff, or one of those creatures," Wherby says, even grumpier than usual by being woken from his sleep. "Hopefully you scared it away with all the noise you're making!"
Wherby sighs mournfully at Vorvashali's words. He's afraid the shopkeeper might be right. It's likely a fate worse than death, which is what adventuring will surely lead to sooner rather than later. After all, look how he's managed to stay alive for nearly 50 years without having (m)any adventures. Is there anything specific he has to sell?
"Experience is just like gold. It's only good if you're alive at the end of it," Wherby grumbles. "Let's get these books to the proper people and sell that stupid ring and go home!"
Wherby just groans and puts his head down in dismay. This is just getting worse and worse.
Eventually he looks up. "Do I look like a wizard to you? I'm not wearing robes or a fancy, pointed hat! I wouldn't know the first thing to do with that ring! You might as well wear it!"
