Unwilling to “waste” any spells on this battle – given that Corvin seems to have things well under control – Anarath draws and fires his bow at the crossbow wielding goblin who seems next likely to fire. Despite the close confines, his arrow seems to find it’s target.
The arrow does strike true, but doesn't seem to drop the kobold. The kobolds seem to be looking for an escape route now and don't seem nearly as confident as they were a few seconds ago.
Unwilling to “waste” any spells on this battle – given that Corvin seems to have things well under control – Anarath draws and fires his bow at the crossbow wielding goblin who seems next likely to fire. Despite the close confines, his arrow seems to find it’s target.
NPCing Tsillmas.
Tsillmas draws his longsword and moves forward, to within striking range of the last kobold sworsman, who backpeddles slightly and hastily swings his sword. He barely manages to block Tsillmas' sword.
Dohrlok rolls through the melee, though not well enough to ward off any incoming blows. However, he lands a massive punch square on the snout of one of the archers.
The kobold barely manages to get a shot off, which imbeds itself in your forearm, before your fist slams into the creature's face. There is a sickening crack and it falls to the floor, dead. The swordsmen shouts something to his companion and they begin to fall back, moving towards the door at the far end of the room.
Ai shor aezaisolari sor thor thys si thysaer thysaeleaes! I shout with fury as I swing my sword.
For those who understand elven
Corvin swings a powerful punch that would have hit, were it not for the close quarters. Instead the blow bounces off of a protruding box, which tumbles to the floor spilling chalk all over the floor.
The kobolds are now inf ull retreat, running as fast as they can for the door on the opposite side of the room. One fires a bolt at Tsillmas as he runs, but it is only a glancing blow. They reach the door and frantically unlock it. They burst through and continue to run.
Corvin swings a powerful punch that would have hit, were it not for the close quarters. Instead the blow bounces off of a protruding box, which tumbles to the floor spilling chalk all over the floor.
The kobolds are now inf ull retreat, running as fast as they can for the door on the opposite side of the room. One fires a bolt at Tsillmas as he runs, but it is only a glancing blow. They reach the door and frantically unlock it. They burst through and continue to run.
The fighter fixes his eyes on the greatsword-wielding kobold. He begins his charges slowly, then springs, catching the kobold across the shoulders and dragging it down to the ground.
The kobold lets out a pitiful squeak as you pounce on it and hold it fast. It desperatly tries to wriggle free but can't escape your powerful grasp. It starts shrilly screaming something in its language. You can;t understand it but it doesn't sound flattering. It continues to struggle and attempt to bite you.
Anarath draws back his bow for a shot at one of the fleeing kobolds - but his arrow bounces off a wall in the tight confines, missing.
The kobolds are no longer in the room, they have moved on to the next. If you guys want we can just stay in initiative order.
The kobold lets out a pitiful squeak as you pounce on it and hold it fast. It desperatly tries to wriggle free but can't escape your powerful grasp. It starts shrilly screaming something in its language. You can;t understand it but it doesn't sound flattering. It continues to struggle and attempt to bite you.
Your guides remain cowering behind a shelf and, when they see that the battle is over they emerge and one says "We go quickly. Ssomeone might had heard." and it runs towards the door, spitting on the kobold in Corvin's arms.
The kobold shrieks in agony as your spikes go deep into its small body. It is still alive but barely, as can be told by the blood streaming down your armor.
“Corvin, our guides are right. Finish that one off – or take it if you really want – and lets be on our way.” Anarath prepares to follow the kobold guides, then pauses.
“Was anyone badly wounded in that battle? Require healing before we face the thing in the tower?”
Corvin grabs the kobold's head with both hands (it's basically pinned to the fighter's chest) and gives it a sharp twist. Corvin pries the small corpse from his armor and tosses it into a corner.
Wiping the blood from his eyes, he snarls like a wild animal. "See that? That's what happens when little rat-faced lizards mess with Corvin Killgannon."
He turns to Anarath, a mad gleam in his eyes. "No, I don't nead no healin'. If this is the best of what the thing in the tower has to offer, it's gonna be a cinch." The fighter grins, displaying bleeding gums and a torn lip, adding to his crazed appearance.
One of your guides mutters something to his mage companion as he looks at Corvin. "Let uzz perceed." he says, gesturing for one of you to go in first. The room is large and has a strange chill to it. Your breathe forms misty clouds as you breathe the foul air of the room. It seems to be a slaughter house, with a few wild-eyed animals (cows mostly) making a racket from their cramped stalls. Large slabs of meat are suspended above the cold floor where congealed blood pools in a few depressions. Most of the meat looks like it came from stolen farm animals but some of it has a shape that suggests a more ominous source. On a crude stone slab in the center of the room a cow that looks as though it was being butchered when the battle started leaks blood onto the floor, creating a large, slippery swath. The whole room is a cold, slippery forest of hanging meat. The meat obscures most of the room but on the far wall you can see a door, above which a few small windows let a dim light in. A stairwell descends into darkness to the left of the door through which you just came. From the right comes the sound of a feirce battle, muffled by the intervening stone walls and doors.
“Charming,” mutters Anarath, looking around, and being very careful where he treads. “Well, as you said, proceed,” he says more loudly to their kobold guides.
"I would appreciate some healing."
Dohrlok, one of your guides approaches you and holds aloft the symbol of Tiamat that hangs from his neck. After a few murmured prayers in the kobold’s language he passes his hand over your wounds and the flesh begins to knit together.
As you advance through the shadowy forest of chilled meat the door on the other side of the room opens, letting in the pale, sickly light of the cloud obscured sun. Two figures step in and stand silhouetted in the doorway. Their features are those of your companions, Gawlak and Greis who now leer at you with twisted malevolence. The take few steps forward with halting, puppet-like steps. They stop 20 feet from you and Greis begins to speak in hollow, lifeless tones. “You shouldn’t have come.” He says as Gawlak steps forward, morning star raised in preparation to strike. Greis raises his spear and hurls it at Tsillmas, dealing a glancing blow.
Spot DC 25
Spot DC 30
"Die, vile aberrations (assuming you aren't dead already)!" Dohrlok charges Gawlak.
Gawlak stands there, unreactive until you are almost upon him. He takes a step back and swings his morningstar down in a blow meant to crush your skull, but he barely misses you.
Greis raises a hand and arcane energy wells up in his palm. His voice becomes hypnotizing as he stares at Dohrlok "Why do you attack us? We are your old friends. Can you not see that the true enemy is over there?" he says, pointing to an empty corner. "Go defeat it." You feel a strange compulsion to do as he asks as friendly voice worms its way into your consciousness.
Corvin spits a gob of spittle and blood onto the dungeon floor. He glares at the thing that speaks through Greis' mouth.
"I ain't got no friends. And as of now, yer contract with me is null and f%!&ing void."
He rears his head back and roars. Then he charges.
As you charge past Gawlak he swings his morningstar around and scores a good blow to your side.
You slam into Greis with a tremendous amount of force, driving him to the ground with you atop him. The spikes of your armor pierce his chest, once again staining your armor red. He is mortaly wounded and as he lies gasping for air his eyes brighten as if a shroud is being lifted "Corvin?" he asks in a ragged whisper before exhaling a final time.
Corvin
Dohrlok, you're almost forced to walk away from the battle but your self control and the knowledge that Greis wished to hurt your comrades allows you to shake off the effects and remain where you are.
You slam into Greis with a tremendous amount of force, driving him to the ground with you atop him. The spikes of your armor pierce his chest, once again staining your armor red. He is mortaly wounded and as he lies gasping for air his eyes brighten as if a shroud is being lifted "Corvin?" he asks in a ragged whisper before exhaling a final time.
Corvin feels a brief stab of guilt over the death of his former employer, but quickly overcomes it as waves of compulsion ripple through his body. His normally frail psyche, however, has been bolstered by his rage, as well as the fact that the compulsions seem to be coming from a large purple slug.
"F%!% you," he mumbles, as he brings his fist down on the creature, spattering his face with violet goo.
The fighter stands, a bit unsteady on his feet and covered in a slick coat of slug slime and the blood of six kobolds and two humans. Clutching the gaping wound in his forehead and what appears to be more than a few broken ribs, he staggers toward the Gawlak-thing.
"Let's do this."
“What in the nine pits of hell…?” Anarath stands, confused, aghast, staring at the shambling forms of his former comrades. He aims his bow at Gawlak – if it is Gawlak – but cannot quite bring himself to fire, even after the dwarf strikes Corvin.
Tsiilmas, shivering in the cold of the room isn't sure what to do. Noticing that Corvin seems to be holding his own, he takes temporary refuge behind one of the hanging slabs of meat to keep an eye on the procedings.
If Gawlak is at all effected by the death of Greis he doesn't show it as he impassively raises his morningstar to strike Corvin. Fortunately the blow goes wild. Just before he swings a faint haze springs up around Gawlak, distorting him slightly and making it harder to find an opening for an attack.
Corvin
Anarath
DM:
“Get out of my head!” Anarath yells, whilst turning his head towards Tsiilmas. What was worse, the voices in his head … or the thought that they could well be speaking the truth?
The elf growls, shakes his head, and looses his readied arrow – at Gawlak.
You feel a sudden urge to attack your dwarven companion as you hear a faint voice in your head, telling you that he has been infected by the creature in the tower and is going to turn on you...
Seeing one of the strange warriors coming towards him, Tsiilmas slashes out in self defense.
You feel the touch of an alien mind again and your eyes drawn to the purple leech on Gawlak's neck. You feel a sudden urge to attack your dwarven companion as you hear a faint voice in your head, telling you that he has been infected by the creature in the tower and is going to turn on you...
Dohrlok throws a punch at Gawlak, who dodges the blow.
Greis' body rises slowly and his head turns to regard Corvin and Dohrlok. He opens his mouth and gives a hoarse roar and charges at Dohrlok. He slams into you, Dohrlok, almost driving you to the floor as he claws and bites at your face.
Corvin, you succeed in pushing the alien mind away from you, once again resisting its influence.
Easily throwing off the influence of the alien mind, Corvin sees Greis rise once more to attack Dorhrlok.
"OH, YA WANNA PLAY ROUGH, EH?" yells the fighter as he grabs the back of Greis' neck, hauling the possessed sorcerer backwards, away from Dohrlok.
Corvin hauls the sorcerer upright, snarling into the face of the possessed human. "STAY DOWN, DOG!" Corvin lifts the gangly man above his head, throwing him bodily toward the possessed cleric.
Dohrlok, you do indeed notice something odd about Greis. He seems to be quite dead yet still he attacks. His face is drained of blood, which drips out of the fatal wounds that Corvin inflicted.
DM:
** spoiler omitted **“Get out of my head!” Anarath yells, whilst turning his head towards Tsiilmas. What was worse, the voices in his head … or the thought that they could well be speaking the truth?
The elf growls, shakes his head, and looses his readied arrow – at Gawlak.
Sorry, yes it did hit but he's still up.
Anarath draws his bow to fire again at Gawlak, but his shaking hands cause the arrow to fly wide.