Back in "triage mode," she decides where she will be most effective against the growing opposition.
Seeing Slidell struggle against the wrathspawn in the well, it's clear to Salome where she must go -- whether she wants to or not. "Bless me, Sarenrae, and protect me from evil -- and the actions of crazy mages," she adds.
As she rushes over to the unfolding drama, she has a clear view of Slidell pouring his lamp oil over the surface of the bubbling well, then taunting the monster with his cantrip...
"That koozeh majji!" she growls, realizing Slidell's plan of action. "He better hope that jimmarra kills him before I get to him!"
She is just steps away from the well when he goes under.
Malcolm 19+
Zieke 17
Vesh 16++
Wrathspawn 16+
Quasit 16
Ehlissa 16-
Slidell 13
Salome 11
Snarling with pain and rage, Malcolm steps to the creature's left and lashes out with both blades at the approaching wrathspawn.
Meanwhile, back across the chamber and closer to the entrance, Zieke and Ehlissa continue their dance with one of the original wrathspawn. He tries to circle the beast to help the paladin flank it, but senses Ehlissa is holding back.
'What's gotten into her?' he wonders, but hopes she took his advice and is merely falling back in order to help the others.
Starting to get a sense for the wrathspawn's tactics, the big warrior feints again, trying to draw it out so it will overextend itself.
'C'mon...take the bait...that's a good boy!'
As soon as it does, he quickly reacts by dodging its claw and slipping inside its defenses. Shield held high to keep the beast's mouth from closing down on him, Zieke thrusts the ancient blade straight ahead this time, driving it deep into the creature's hide.
Zieke:You slash at the wrathspawn, opening a deep wound and nearly spilling its guts on the floor. Incredibly, however, the thing is still alive and bears down on you again. Is it laughing?....The wrathspawn fighting Zieke and Ehlissa launches itself at Zieke with desperate fury.
Stunned that the creature survived what must be a mortal wound, Zieke fails to react as the creature's claws close around him from both sides. His raised shield thankfully fends off the wrathspawn's bite, as it would surely have killed him. But he only barely manages to keep it in place with the agonizing pain of the poisoned claws burning into him.
Attack wrathspawn (1d20+7=9, 1d8+2=6)
Stunned by the wrathspawn's comeback from Zieke's onslaught, Ehlissa fails to make contact!
As the Wrathspawn rakes at Mal's gut, Vesh sees an opening. Dropping his bow and drawing his shortsword in a smooth arc, he spins and stabs at the creature, hoping to bury his blade in its abdomen.
Vesh's attack vs. the Wrathspawn (1d20+5=11, 1d6+1=5)
Vesh turns and ducks a blow that never comes. Incredibly, the Wrathspawn stoops to pick up Mal's body and unwittingly gives Vesh a second chance to strike.
Vesh's AoO vs. Wrathspawn (1d20+5=25, 1d6+1=7). Yes!
Crit. confirmation and damage (1d20+5=12, 1d6+1=2). Grrr.
Vesh's blade sinks into the Wrathspawn and he growls, "Come on! Put down my friend and play with ME!"
Wrathspawn summary:
#1 fighting Zieke and Ehlissa
#2 climbed out of well and is next to Salome
#3 carrying Mal, next to Vesh
#4 newly formed, in well
As Slidell sinks beneath the surface, he feels the oil on the surface ignite above his head, though he cannot hear anything in the turbulent magical waters of the cauldron. He closes his eyes tight against the biting, burning, stinging sensation of the liquid on his skin. His cloak becomes sodden with the viscous substance, and he sinks like a rock. He does his best to stay away from the the violent thrashings of the wrathspawn, apparently not enjoying the impromptu bar-b-que above.
Slidell's Swim Roll: (1d20=18)
Patting down his clothes, trying to make sure they stay down, Slidell's brain is racing,...
'Death by Sinspawn, Death by Fire, Death by slow Acid. Decisions, Decisions.'
..., and his hand feels the familiar form of a potion bottle. He pulls it from his pocket. He only has one left,...
'Hm. This could come in handy.'
..., The turbulence in the small stone cauldron suddenly doubles, and Slidell gets the sinking realization that there are now TWO Wrathspawn sharing his tiny space,...
'It's getting VERY crowded in here. And I paid for a PRIVATE room too!'
..., and Slidell's luck ends, as the second Wrathspawn's flailing foot comes down squarely on his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs!
'Oops! Breaks over, Back to work!'
Slidell realizes that he has one, slim chance left. And he doesn't need a 'gift' to see it!
Subduing his instinctive panic reaction by force of will, he kicks to get his feet under him, and kicks himself upwards, THROUGH the flames. As he burst through the burning oil, he barely has time to register the new complaints of his body as the flames lick at his sodden form.
As his lungs gratefully suck in fresh air, his hands hastily claw at the stopper to the potion bottle. The flames begin to sear his clothes and acid-sensitized skin as the stopper flies away and Slidell, eyes still closed, slams the potion bottle to his mouth with both hands and gulps, calmly alternating air and drink like a man who has just run a race.
Slidell's CLW Potion Roll: (1d8 1=9)
For a moment, it seems as though all hell has broken loose around Salome. As the flames grow, she sees a burning wrathspawn lurch out of the well toward her.
"I was right; majji are nothing but trouble. If we survive this, I am going to kill him," she growls to herself. Salome attacks the approaching monster. She thrusts her scimitar into the creature's abdomen, draws it out, steps around it, and slashes its side.
Scimitar attack (1d20+4=24)
Confirm critical (1d20+4=14)
Damage (1d6+1=3, 1d6+1=7)
As she maneuvers around the wrathspawn she's engaging with , she sees Malcolm unconscious on the back of another . "Milady," she calls to Ehlissa, "take this one. Sir Malcolm needs help."
She raises a hand into the air, says a quick prayer in Qadi, and extends her hand toward Malcolm.
Close Wounds (1d4+4=7)
Then she sees the flaming mage standing in the pool of liquid with yet another wrathspawn . "I cannot believe this!" the exasperated priestess groans.
Malcolm 19+ (recently healed)
Zieke 17
Vesh 16++
Wrathspawn 16+
Quasit 16
Ehlissa 16-
Slidell 13
Salome 11
Wrestling free of the wrathspawn's claws, Zieke staggers weakly, falling to one knee as he edges around the beast and away from Ehlissa. He half-expects another blow to finish him, but realizes the creature's attention is split between them. Steadying his breathing, he focuses on driving away the pain, ignoring the poison, and locking all of that away into some smaller part of his brain so the rest of his body can respond...retaliate...and, hopefully, survive.
Zieke's Cleave attack... 1d20+6 = 7 to hit (with a natural 1), 1d8+5 = 6 damage (with a natural 1)
But the nausea that continues to sweep through him, blurs Zieke's vision. He feebly swipes with his blade. The blow doesn't even come close to landing. Instead, the wrathspawn knocks it free from his weakened hand and it clatters to the floor with the clear ring of steel on stone. He can practically hear the evil beast's laughter and sense its smug superiority.
But, the sound of the falling weapon seems to refocus the big warrior, like a bell rung during his prize fights back in Magnimar. His immediate impulse, so ingrained in him from his training, is to simply lash out with his mailed fist. With one last desperate surge, he shakes his head, steps inside the wrathspawn's guard and surprises it by delivering a sharp heartpunch straight to its chest cavity.
Zieke can feel the effect of the punch resonate all the way through his perfectly-aligned arm, exactly how the Tian Xia masters had described it in the scrolls he'd read and practiced. The blow bruises skin, shatters bone, and drives the shards into the wrathspawn's heart, stopping it cold. As the creature falls away, Zieke lowers his shield and looks back at Ehlissa, obviously wounded, nearly exhausted, and almost pushed to his limit.
Trying to catch his breath...and calm his churning stomach...he peers through his blurry vision at the paladin. It appears as if two of them are looking back.
"Go..." he hoarsely commands, "H-help the others...I...I'll be...fine...r-right behind...you."
His hand reaches out to search for his sword again, lying somewhere on the floor beside him. Unlike his words to the twin Ehlissa's, however, his hand can't seem to grab the right one.
"Stay there, old chap and don't do anything silly!" Ehlissa says as she leaves Zieke with the now unconscious spawn.
Ehlissa's attention turns to the most injured spawn.
The hairs on the back of Vesh’s neck straighten as he sees Mal—whom he thought was dead a moment ago—make his move. He doesn’t look, but he has a feeling that Salome is nearby and has something to do with Malcolm’s miraculous recovery.
My sister is on her way, you ugly thing! Vesh thinks as he circles the Wrathspawn. And she’s probably pissed!
He can't help but wonder at the ridiculousness of his situation.
Had I known a week ago that I’d be facing down a Wrathspawn in some gods-forsaken hell pit, I’d have never gotten on the Song of Celios! Out of the frying pan…”
Holding a defensive posture with his shortsword, Vesh searches for an opening as he circles the monster.
Vesh vs. Wrathspawn #3 (1d20+1=20, 1d6+1=7). Holy!
Crit. Confirm and Dmg. (if any) (1d20+1=21, 1d6+1=5). Not to jinx the dice but...WOO HOO!
Attack! Intimidating strike -1 to hit (1d20+6, 1d8+2=[19, 6], [5, 2]) Crit threat (1d20+6=21, 1d8+2=10) Intimidate +1 from strike (1d20+8=11)
Ehlissa surveys the field and rushes to aid her fellow servant of the good goddesses. "Your doom is upon you!" she bellows right at the creature. Her blade seeks the belly of the beast.
With a growl of pain, Mal begins to slowly pull himself away from the wrathspawn, hoping to avoid notice.
Close Wounds stabilizes me right? That would put me at 0.
Recovering from her initial shock at the sudden bloody wound, Salome pulls out a scarf and uses it to stanch the blood spilling from the opening gash as she shoots a withering glance to the quasit.
Slidell shrieks in pain and clutches his chest with one hand. His mind reels, trying to see the possibilities. But even as he frantically searches for a way to avoid further evisceration and burning, one part of his mind calmly notes the pool's reaction to his blood.
" 'Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble'. The well, is an Easy-Bake Cauldron for Wrathspawn?!?" He coughs out loud.
"How come,... the bad guys,... get all the cool toys?!?" He hisses painfully at the Leering Wrathspawn from between clenched teeth.
Time seemed to slow for the wounded Mage, He was looking at possibilities, but seeing them through a haze of Pain, Blood, and Smoke.
He searched his spells,
One heartbeat.
Slidell realized that his vision was dimming, not from the smoke, but from the abuse he was heaping upon himself. His body was going into shock, he couldn't take much more of this.
Two Heartbeats.
Getting Veran out of the well had been a good idea. Falling himself had been a BAD Idea. He could no more good here, and if he died in this cesspool, he would likely create yet another Nethys-cursed Sinspawn. And if any more came out, that could be the final doom for his friends.
Three Heartbeats.
'Not on MY watch!'
Time slammed back into full speed with a lurch.
"Yippie-Yi-Ki-Yay Mother-F@#$%!" Slidell Shouts with a hoarse cry, drawing a surprised blink from the burning wrathspawn facing him.
With sudden speed born of desperation, the skinny mage throws his arms upwards, causing flaming debris from his sleeves to fly outward.
"Flintus Sparkus!!" He coughed, shoving his left hand towards the creature as a shower of sparks erupted from his fingertips. With his right hand he flung the empty potion bottle.
Sli's BLUFF check: (1d20+4=11)
The creature flinched as the sparks shot towards it, and turned it's head slightly at the sound of the bottle hitting the well behind it. At that moment Slidell turned and hurled himself at the wall of the well.
Sli's CLIMB roll: (No bonuses): (1d20=10)
Struggling, his sodden clothing dragging down behind him,the thin mage scrambles awkwardly over the wall and falls to the ground flopping like a fish.
Sli's Ref save to put out fire: (1d20 4=19)
The mage flops around like a fish out of water, until, exhausted, he finally stops moving, panting weakly.
Malcolm wriggles in the wrathspawns grip, hoping that he can strike it while it's occupied with Vesh. Seeing his opening, he stabs at the creature's gut with all his strength.
Her eyes blazing with rage, Ehlissa heads for the pool and snarls, "That was a mistake!" She slashes at the flaming spawn.
Attack flaming wrathspawn (1d20+7=11, 1d8+2=3)
Seek the calm centre. In the rage of the storm lies destruction...
Ahem,.... "Gurgle, Gurgle,..." ;P
Zieke 17 pending
Her eyes blazing with rage, Ehlissa heads for the pool and snarls, "That was a mistake!" She slashes at the flaming spawn.
Zieke's vision clears for a moment and he's able to retrieve his sword. Spotting Salome, Ehlissa, and Slidell struggling at the well, he hurries in their direction. Along the way, he grabs another flask from his belt pouch, chews off the stopper, spits it away and drains another healing draught.
Feeling marginally better, but still sick to his stomach, the big warrior reaches the edge of the well, peering bleary-eyed through the smoke and acidic fumes for the fallen wizard's body. Spotting a piece of his robe, he plunges his hand into the well and heaves him out, almost hurling Slidell towards Salome.
"See to him!" he shouts at the priestess over the din of the burning wrathspawn's roar, hoping against hope she can save the mage.
Zieke then positions himself next to Ehlissa. "Keep it in the well!" he advises, "Let it burn itself to ash! Just keep that witch-devil away..."
Knowledge Religion (1d20+7=15)
As the body of the mage lands near her, Salome is nearly overwhelmed by frustration and despair. Nonetheless, she kneels over him, places her right arm under his neck, reaches across his chest, and with a heft, rolls with him out of the way. She pats out any remaining embers and places her bloodied fingertips on Slidell's carotid artery. A pulse! Faint, but it's there. Conscious of her own wound, she deftly ties a cravat around her neck, wipes her hands as clean as she can, and placing one hand on the mage offers the only prayer she can on Slidell's behalf.
Vesh's blade twists out of his hand as the Wrathspawn falls. As he sees Mal roll away from it body, Vesh thinks, Where the hell is Salome? He turns just in time to see the Quasit slashing at her neck. He sees red as a blind rage washes over him.
Brother's coming, Vesh thinks, and he's pissed!
He drops on his bow , and as he rolls into a crouching position, he draws an arrow from his quiver.
Thought you were done with me, did you! Don't despair - we will have penty of time to grow acquainted!
"Time to grow acquainted with the fletching on my arrow, Hell B!%(#!"
Vesh lets loose on the hovering demon (1d20+6=18, 1d6+2=7).
Slidell was almost over the wall of the well when he felt a tug on his clothes, and the wall was moving away from him.
'THAT can't be right!'
His poor, abused body didn't even register the new rips in his back, except as another dull roar to be ignored. Then his aches and pains began to fade, the burning of his burned and acid-seared flesh faded to a pleasant tingle, and his vision went to black.
When he opened his eyes again, he was once more in that unknown, but oh-so-familiar-study that he visited so often in his dreams. Except that this time the room seemed darker, more stark, angrier. Possibly a reflection of the room's other sole occupant. The mage of the clouded features was not holding a drink in his hand, as he usually did. And his body language spoke a great deal of tension. Probably anger.
"Well," the figure spoke after a tense moment or three. "You really scr@#@$ the pooch this time, didn't you?"
The featureless man gestured towards a glowing sphere of light that pulsed with movement on its surface. A closer look revealed it to be a birds eye view of a familiar looking battle. Off to the side of the image flapped a small reddish creature with an oversized head and batlike wings. Past the creature, on the ground, a large, well-built man wearing armor and carrying what looked like a small arsenal was struggling to get to his feet. Two women, one wearing a head scarf, both wearing armor, dropped a Wrathspawn with well-timed blows. A few feet away, two fellows wearing leathers were carving up another Wrathspawn who was trying to carry the taller one off. Directly under the 'eye' was a large stone well bubbling with an orange liquid and covered in dying flames. In the well was another wrathspawn, and a body lying facedown in the liquid.
"Well?!" the featureless man huffed, his tone indicating he expected a response.
"Yeah," Slidell said, reaching out towards the sphere, but not quite daring to touch it. "That didn't go nearly as well as I had hoped." He watched with interest as the tiny images continued their battle.
"Nearly?! HOPED?!?!" The featureless man managed to spit out, sounding nearly apoplectic. "Your supposed to be this great and mighty mage! The next 'Master of Magic'! The savior of,..." Slidell raises a single eyebrow in interest, and the man sputters.
"And where do I find you? Not raining death upon your foes from a safe distance, as you were taught. But BRAWLING with monsters like a tavern thug! While a fiery pit of your own devising burns your own flesh as well as that of your foes! And why?! Because of a BIRD!?!?"
Slidell helped himself to a roll of pipeweed leaf, and lit one end with a flick of his finger. He turned to frown stonily at the man's angry words. "Veran is NOT 'a bird'. He is my FAMILIAR. That alone makes him worth,... well, that!" He said vehemently, jabbing at the image of himself face-down in the pool.
The man shook his mist-shrouded head. "You don't understand." He continues in a calmer voice. "You have so much potential that should not,... MUST not be wasted! A familiar is painful to lose, true. But they are a tool, just like all of your other wizardly devices, or your companions. They are all a means to an end. You use them while they are useful to you, and you trade them in for others when they have outlived their usefulness."
Slidell shook his head as in the sphere, unseen by him, the tiny armored man drug the body from the well and flung it to the dubious safety of the floor. "You know I don't think that way." He chides softly. "A familiar, or companions, are not summoned monsters, who exist on our plane a short time, and exist only to do our bidding. A man is defined by the company he keeps, as well as his actions. I'd like to think that this past week has reflected well on me. Of course I would like to continue, and see for myself."
The man shakes his head in bemusement, his anger obviously diffused, for now. "You'll have to tell me one thing at least." The man smiles at Slidell, as in the orb, the scarf-wearing woman places a hand on the tattered chest of the body from the well. "WHY did you set the well on fire, instead of escaping, or using your magic?"
"Oh. That's easy." Slidell grins back. In the sphere, a golden light suffuses the body. Slidell starts to continue, then stops, as if he cannot catch his breath. He vanishes,...
Under Salome's hand, Slidell lurches, and draws deep, gasping breaths as he struggles to empty his lungs of viscous fluid. He then begins to shake, gasping as if he cannot catch his breath.
Oh. He isn't gasping, he's laughing. Or trying to at any rate.
"Be, cause. I like,... my,... wrathspawn,... well-done!" He sputters, laughing weakly. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at Salome. "Hello pretty lady!" He grins weakly. "And thanks. I needed that!"
His grin fades as his eyes focus, and he sees the blood trickling down from underneath a scarf tied around her neck. "Hey. You know your supposed to wear that red stuff on the INside. Are you ok?" He asks with concern.
Considering that the question is being asked by a man who, in the last two minutes, has been beaten, slashed, singed by acid, scorched by flames, and almost drowned, you may find it oddly amusing.
Zieke struggles to hold the well-bound wrathspawn at bay with his shield while looking back at Salome and Slidell. Amid the sounds of the beast's claws scrabbling over the shield's surface and the warrior's grunts as he waves his sword to hold it back, he hears the wizard's voice...just not his exact words. Still, if Slidell is talking again, it means Salome has managed to find a way to save him.
"Is he talking now?" Zieke yells over the battle at the priestess, "Good! Tell him when this is over I'm gonna hit him so hard his jaw will be swollen shut for a month!"
He feints again with his sword, trying to aid Ehlissa's attacks, but clearly the paladin won't take advantage of any openings. "What is it with you?" he mutters, "This isn't a duel of honor. It's a monstrous freak! Stop playing with it and let's kill this thing together and get out of here!"
Mal tumbles away from the wrathspawn and picks up his rapier from where it had fallen. Seeing one of the wrathspawn near Slidell, he charges towards it. "Hold on Slidell."
His grin fades as his eyes focus, and he sees the blood trickling down from underneath a scarf tied around her neck. "Hey. You know your supposed to wear that red stuff on the INside. Are you ok?" He asks with concern.
Considering that the question is being asked by a man who, in the last two minutes, has been beaten, slashed, singed by acid, scorched by flames, and almost drowned, you may find it oddly amusing.
I'm not. "Are you trying to be funny? You nearly got me and everyone else killed, and the battle's still not over." Salome helps the tattered and torn Slidell back to his feet. "You. Out. Now," her eyes narrow dangerously.
"Playing! Playing! How dare you! I'll show you a duel, sir, if you dare to suggest I am not committing myself fully to this battle!" Ehlissa shouts in between sword swings, "Merely because I refuse to resort to trickery to win the day!"
"Playing! Playing! How dare you! I'll show you a duel, sir, if you dare to suggest I am not committing myself fully to this battle!" Ehlissa shouts in between sword swings, "Merely because I refuse to resort to trickery to win the day!"
"There's a far cry between...trickery..." Zieke grunts, twisting his shield to deflect another claw from the wrathspawn, "...and collaboration, sweetheart! If you ever fought on an actual battlefield...instead of a few sparring sessions...and duels...you'd know that..."
Despite his nausea and sometimes-blurry vision, the big warrior hopes that goading the paladin might get her to at least put forth a more forceful effort...and maybe break down her principles enough to take advantage of an opening he provides. But he just can't seem to shake her damn honor.
So Zieke continues pushing his own body to respond even as the poison burns through him. A sweat that has nothing to do with his exertion gathers on his brow. But not quite feverish enough to have the good sense to run yet, he positions himself to block the wrathspawn. Luckily, that helps him find a sudden opening in its defenses and he drives his blade forward in a moment of clarity.
Zieke's attack with -2 sickness and Power Attack... (1d20+4 = 16 to hit, 1d8+3 = 9 damage)
"Sweetheart! How dare you!" *thwock* You overgrown, arrogant oaf! If you'd ever learnt some-" *slash* "manners rather than expecting people to salute-" *thunk* "-you all the time!"
Ehlissa's speech is punctuated by blows to the wrathspawn.
"You have no idea what you're-" *whack* "-talking about. I learnt some hard lessons in Magnimar's streets and-" *slice* "-Don't make me teach them to you!"