Angered by the pain inflicted on him and his shaggy friend, Ximble retaliates.
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"Forward!", Ximble commands his companion. He presses his knees into the goat's flank and then, in unison, they rush forward to meet their foe.
Ximble tries to get the gremlin's attention by shouting at her. "Hey, she-gremlin! Catch!" What follows is a barrage of chakrams.
Ximble squats next to the pool and wonders who this person is, no, was. "Do you think Father A-to-Z might know who this person was? The weapon they carried looks to be too special to have been forgotten."
Both the goat and Ximble strike at the aberration. With horn, hoof, and scythe, the unlikely duo hope to overcome it.
Ximble internally complains when he sees Tekmin charging forward to meet the creature head-on. Shoot dang! He reaches for his bolas and, as he tells his companion to move forward, throws the bolas at the foul creature's legs.
The gnome scratches the back of his head and gives Tekmin a look that screams that he doesn't get it. The halfling spoke the truth when he said they just had been in the Pit, and how could they have missed whatever is doing this to the roofs of Sandpoint?! But isn't this how a citizen of Sandpoint would react? And aren't they stout adventurers? "Perhaps this mysterious creature's presence is testing our, and I say this most begrudgingly, burgeoning adventurial mettle. If so, we must return to the Pit and set the record straight, I do dare say." Ximble tries to sound like an adventurer, stoic and resolute, and going by his body language, he's darn proud of what he just said.
"What if it was just a nightmare? You know, a collective bad dream we communally manifested into the scorch marks that now remain?" Ximble shrugs and then drops it, because ain't it obvious this is alotta a do about nothing? "It's known to happen, especially in communities with a significant fey presence. Hrm, wait, other than me, what fey-touched call Sandpoint home? Alright, fine, maybe we should get up on the roofs and check out these so-called scorch marks."
Ximble checks what knick-knacks Vorvashali has in store with great interest. He isn't exactly flush with gold right now, but he is eager to spend some of it. Perhaps Vorvashali has one of those vaunted lifting belts? Ximble guesses what it might cost and pouts. There is no way he could afford one. "What if we tell you that we'll be right back, but we won't be back for say, a couple of days? Would that still make it count as being 'this' visit for the discount?"
Ximble raises a correcting finger at Tekmin. "We do get paid, friend, we get paid in experience. That's how new, unexperienced adventurers in a competitive market environment try to get ahead of the competition, or so I read in a book by some Aspis Consortium guy."
Ximble goes through the stack of fancy-looking paper and frowns at Wherby. "Seems these are all scrolls, Wherby. I'd have told you it's your lucky day, but that wouldn't be very nice to Tekmin, now would it? Oh, and there's an expensive-looking ring. Let me guess, more wizardy stuff. Maybe it is your lucky day." He brings the things that look magicky to the old grumbler and leaves them for Wherby to identify. It's then that Wherby tells them what's written inside those books. "Really now? That's oddly specific. Maybe I should learn how to read ancient Thassilonian. I am an adventurer, after all. Would you, could you?"
Ximble aids Herok by conjuring a cloud of healing mist. It envelops the halfling's body and mends some of his most grievous wounds. "Is he okay, Herok?", Ximble asks. There is a hint of trepidation in his voice.
Ximble gets overwhelmed by the flames but by eating most of the flames, he might've saved his companion.
Ximble directs his goat to focus the Sinspawn and they both lay into the foul abomination!
Seeing that Tekmin is in trouble, Ximble calls upon nature to shower Tekmin with healing rain. He then directs his goat to steer them into the fray.
Both Ximble and his companion involuntarily retch when the Sinspawn attack and overwhelm them. They retaliate with hoof and pick.
Ximble directs his goat to go munch on one of the sinspawn and then, with a flick of the wrist, retrieves a pair of bolas and throws them at the goblin's ankles.
The gnome attempts to sit still as Herok attends to his wounds. "We should try the intimidation route. What do you say Wherby? Are you up to the task? A pinch of magic mixed with a dash of your characteristic grumbling should suffice, I reckon!"
"Maybe it only pretended to be broken! ..." Ximble gives Tekmin a serious look - he must truly believe what he said to be true or at least seriously worth considering. "Say, what if we tell the goblins-next-door the truth? Maybe they won't bother us if they hear we took care of their witch?"
The goat bleats in anger as his world grows dark. Wildly, it bites and headbutts in the direction of the goblin that did this to him!
Ximble once more attempts to trip the goblin, but this time by getting up close to her. Somehow, it's easier to deal with a goblin from afar. He then steps back and commands his companion to strike at the goblin with him in unison. One way or another, she's going down!
The gnome reaches for a pair of bolas and throws them at the witch's legs. "Hey, she-witch, catch!" The gnome-goat duo then quickly move forward to engage the witch in melee combat.
Ximble follows Tekmin's lead and for now, stands by.
The tale of Ripnugget excites Ximble. He wants to ask the stupid goblin a thousand questions but that would indicate that he, Ximble, a gnome, knows less than a goblin. Thankfully, Herok is asking the pertinent questions.
Ximble is impressed by Wherby's command of magic. It's a shame that Ximble is invisible or else Wherby could see the admiration on the gnome's face. "Wow! You're getting better at this whole wizardry thing, Wherby. Color me impressed."
Ximble's hands reach up to beg the gods for forgiveness. Of course the witch is a blasted goblin! "Fine. We'll simply have to tell every goblin we come across that your take on the Devil is the best. I mean, it isn't, but it will probably cause her to lose it."
Unlike Tekmin, Ximble has no reservations when it comes to dealing with goblins. "I think we can do that. But eh, what does this witch look like? Like, what is the color of her hair, her eyes, mannerisms, anything you can think of might be helpful."
Ximble rushes forward to assist Wherby however he can after the blast of gray smoke hits the old man. Throw a bucket, don't BE the bucket, Wherby!!!"
"Huh?" Ximble directs his confusion at Wherby. Didn't the man check the room for magic only mere seconds ago? Are traps able to hide their magical signature? Is magic a trap? "Well, that complicates things. Do you think we can throw, say, a bucket or a piece of canvas over its head so it can't see and target us?"
Ximble shrugs and discards Wherby's fears. "It's all part of the 'tough guy' act this place has going on. Don't sweat it! Real baddies won't and don't feel the need to try this hard." Nonetheless, the gnome readies himself for what might happen by drawing his switchscythe. "Say, where should we go next? How abouuuut [that door?", Ximble says as he points to the door leading east.
Ximble shows up to the expedition perched atop a massive mountain goat. Where did he get this goat? Why did he get this goat? How did he get this goat? What is the goat doing here? Remarkably enough, the creature responds to Ximble's commands and seems to do as the gnome tells it to. "Grew up fast, didn't he? Anyway, let us get to business." Lazily, Ximble peers down into the pit, and after a couple of seconds of studying this ominous place, Ximble nods. "A place that tries this hard to look intimidating can't be all that rough. This should be easy enough." But Herok is already way past taking in the scenery. "Hold up, Herok. " He takes a moment to retrieve his crossbow and a set of specialized grappling bolts from his pack and then triumphantly shows it to his companions. "I can go first if you want. As long as we have a place to secure a grappling hook to, this should make life a whole lot easier."
A fine?! What's this, Korvosa?! Ximble leans back in his chair and shakes his head, disillusioned by the choices made by his fellow townsfolk. Lazily, he finishes his drink before getting up and joining the others in their chat with the mayor. "The Pit calls to us! And don't you worry, if anything goes wrong, you can blame us again. If Master Crick is to be believed, we won't even make it back to town, though I doubt the veracity of his claims."
Ximbles tries to come up with good arguments, but he has to admit that the worried townsfolk do have a point. He won't admit it out loud, but it forces the gnome to keep to himself. He isn't a gifted persuader like Tekmin. Hell, he isn't even able to persuade himself this time!
"Tis but a name! And a short one at that, probably because they couldn't come up with a more menacing and literary engaging name like say, hrm, the Hungry Maw or, hrmm, the Devouring Cavern. The pit is so barren and basic that it forces you to fill in the blanks. Puh, it deserves our scorn."
During the afterparty at Cracktooth's, Ximble runs into a visiting actor who happens to speak fluent goblin! Ximble at first only asks the actor to tell him some naughty words and phrases in goblin, but then realizes that maybe he should ask the actor if he knows anything about the Pit!
Ximble finds himself a quiet table at Cracktooth's tavern and orders a glass of sweet blackberry wine. He had intended to ponder the matter of the Pits, but a rather entertaining discussion between some local artists steals his attention. Before Ximble realizes it, a couple more glasses of blackberry wine have come and gone, and he now finds it hard to ponder the matter any further.
"But that's ancient history! I'm talking about the here and now, you know, now." Ximble might be a gnome and yes, gnomes can become quite old, but Ximble is still but a young gnome. "Anyway, how about we meet with Father A-to-Z and see if we can make head or tail of what vague hints we acquired?"
Ximble is visibly frustrated when Nualia departs. "His, and he harkens on red wings somewhere deep down inside a mysterious pit. Welp, I now find myself holding more question marks than before talking to Nualia, great!" He lazily scratches himself behind the ear and then shakes his head, but the sour expression won't go. "What are those other adventurers going to do, Wherby? Watch us take the initiative, as always, and let us do all the hard work, as always? No, if we want this to be done, and done right, it's up to us to do so. Just don't ask me where to start. Ok fine, maybe do, how about we talk to the Cathedral people first?"
Ximble's toes start to ache as every fiber of his being wants Nualia to cooperate. Why must she be so angry?! There's more to life than anger and hate! And surely there's more to the afterlife as well. "But now that you're here, you're part of this town's future! Know that, as judgment awaits you, and do the right thing!"
Ximble gets the impression that Wherby, cranky as he might be, knows how to connect with Nualia. Instead of making his own grand statements on why she ought to help the town, Ximble focuses on reinforcing Wherby's points.
Ximble looks nervous when Nualia mentions there are seven dooms in total. Though in agony, the woman does not give Ximble the impression that she's trying to deceive them. She's in the afterlife, and perhaps she learned more about what's to come in the great beyond?! "See, you're trying to help, even though you're in much pain and anger, you're trying to help, because you know we are trying to help. This place can't be all bad when we're still trying to help each other under these circumstances!"
Ximble keeps his distance from Nualia as he's scared the ghost might sink her angry teeth into his tattered spirit. Instead, he studies her intently, watching and overanalyzing her every move.
Ximble flails away at his own shadow, not wanting to accept that part of him might have been claimed by the Bleaching.
"Ah! Stop it! I'm too young for the Bleaching!!!"
Ximble douses himself in healing mists, but with his shadow gone, not even the mist can fix what's wrong.
Wherby's words put Ximble on edge and give the gnome good reason to do all he can to undo the last shadow.
Angered by their unwillingness to stay dead, Ximble wails away at the shadows.
Ximble hones in on the shadowy foe that struck him, and retaliates.
Ximble goes about mumbling prayers to Pharasma, but truth be told, Ximble doesn't know a whole lot about Pharasma. Sure, she tends to the dead, but when it comes to actual prayers and rituals, Ximble is a blank canvas. "Shoo! Return to Pharasma before she gets angry at you! She might send you on vacation to the realm of Asmodeus if you do not behave right now!"
Ximble frowns when the Scarnidiot suggests they're able to undo Pharasma's work. Does he really believe what he's suggesting? Or does he simply not realize what he's suggesting? The latter, most likely. "Sir, an ordained priest is crossing a spiritual bridge to Pharasma's realm, so that he may converse with a soul that is within the care of Our Lady of Graves. Surely you wouldn't dare suggest that Pharasma is about to let her soul loose on this town? That's madness if not an outright heretical thought!"
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