"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!"
"Hard lessons?" Zieke scoffs, "You? Yeah, I'm sure it really hurt when they took away your silver spoon and tucked you in every night! The streets of Magnimar can't hold a candle to those of Korvosa...or Riddleport...or the cold hard reality of the wilderness itself, honey. If you want to teach me the kind of lessons you learned, I'd welcome the respite...and the lighter touch of a girl in a paladin's armor!"
He dodges another swipe by the wrathspawn and tries to keep his balance as the feverish delirium probably loosens his tongue a bit too much. 'Whatever nerve I'm hitting seems to be working...' he tells himself, 'But I'll be damned if I've got the stamina for it now.'
"C'mon, honey..." he pants, "If you really want to teach me those lessons, you need to finish this thing!"
"I should have guessed you were nothing more than a common thug! I've fought more than my fair share!"
"I should have guessed you were nothing more than a common thug! I've fought more than my fair share!"
"Apparently you didn't learn anything from them then! Too bad! We could use one right about now!"
Inwardly, Zieke's thoughts turn grim though. The paladin's words cut closer to the truth than she'd probably ever know. But he'd be damned if he'd let her know that! His own blows start turning more forceful, too...if only to prove to himself and her that there's something more...something better...inside him.
(1d20+14=29, 1d2=1)
Vesh stares at the thorn embedded in his wrist and the ooze crawling up his arm in horror.
I've made it mad. Wonderful.
Shaking his head, he looks at the Quasit and frowns. "Your mistress can take my life, but she will not have my soul," he says, puzzled, as if that would be obvious to the Quasit.
Normal attack (1d20+7=12, 1d8+2=5) Fort (1d20+5=21)
Distracted by the pain of her injury Ehlissa swings feebly at the other spawn.
Still frothing madly, the pool begins to flicker rapidly bathing you momentarily in soft orange light several times per second. A second wrathspawn rises up from the pool, coating itself in smoldering oil as it does so. Dripping embers and belching black smoke, the wrathspawn attempt to overpower Zieke and Ehlissa and get out of the pool.
"Oh, for the love of Shelyn!" Zieke curses, "How many of these things are in there?! Is this happening because the wizard fell in and stirred up some kind of hornet's nest?"
As they crest the rim of the pool, first Zieke then Ehlissa batter the lead wrathspawn back but not before it tears into Ehlissa with its claw. Their swordwork leaves its ruined corpse afloat in the burning well. The other wrathspawn swings wildly at Zieke to no avail.
After assisting Ehlissa in cutting down the first wrathspawn exiting the well, Zieke has to fall back from the blow of the second one to avoid further injury. Giving way, he slides back and around to its side, intentionally putting it between him and Ehlissa. Even if the paladin wouldn't take advantage of flanking such a beast, he certainly had no qualms with doing so. It just might help them survive.
"Salome! We've got another one!" Zieke yells, holding back the beast with skillful shield maneuvers and trained footwork, "If Slidell can move, we should fall back before more follow..."
With that advice, the big warrior launches a furious assault on the new wrathspawn, hoping to put it out of commission to aid the very retreat he recommended. The beast seems new to the battle and maybe a little confused as the wrathspawn leaves itself wide open while climbing out of the well. The ancient blade flashes in Zieke's hand, sinking deep into its back with the steel tip protruding from its chest on the other side. Zieke gives the weapon a twist to add to creature's agony, then shoves his boot against its backside to withdraw the blade in one smooth motion...cutting again on its way out.
Zieke's attack with -2 sickness, +2 flank, and Power Attack... (1d20+6 = 24 to hit, 1d8+3 = 8 damage)
Confirm critical threat... (1d20+6 = 14 to confirm, 1d8+3 = 4 damage)
Additional threat damage from ancient sword... (1d6 = 6 extra damage)
"Now that's how you do it, sweetheart!" Zieke calls from the other side of the wrathspawn, though even he has to admit he got in a very lucky strike...especially with the poison making him so sick.
"Oh, for the love of Shelyn!" Zieke curses, "How many of these things are in there?! Is this happening because the wizard fell in and stirred up some kind of hornet's nest?"
"Why are these things always MY fault?" Slidell mutters.
"You. Out. Now," her eyes narrow dangerously.
Slidell flinches at the steel in Salome's words, barely even registering the shouted barbs of Ehlissa and Zieke. Then he catches a blur of red and a flash of motion from above Salome. He twists to keep the small demon in his sight as it wounds Vesh.
"Rules number 3 & 4," He coughs, his eyes fading to solid black.
"If a mage is alive, he's dangerous, and if I can see you. your a target!"
"Shapak Shashara! He cries thrusting out his arm. Two now-familiar tiny blazes of light explode into existence, and scream after the flying imp.
Sli's magic missiles: (1d4 1=4, 1d4 1=3)
" 'Puny Weapons' THAT 'Queenie'!" He coughs.
"I said, OUT!" Salome shouts at Slidell, her amber eyes fiery. "Quit wasting those things, or we will never get out of here," she hisses, hoping the quasit doesn't hear.
As she passes next to Zieke , she uncorks a bottle of noxious-smelling fluid, which forms a black cloud around her hand. She touches his arm. "Finish them quickly," she intones. "We need to get going."
As she passes next to Zieke, she uncorks a bottle of noxious-smelling fluid, which forms a black cloud around her hand. She touches his arm. "Finish them quickly," she intones. "We need to get going."
"Yes, ma'am..." Zieke grimly states, taking confidence in whatever blessing the priestess has bestowed. Flourishing his blade with a flick of his wrist, he sets his shield once more to act as a vanguard for their retreat.
As Salome and Slidell start making their way back to the ladder, Zieke glances over at Ehlissa. "Organized retreat, sweetheart..." he wryly comments, "Think you can handle that okay? Or are you planning on making your final stand for the honor and glory of Iomedae and all that?"
He doesn't even wait for her answer. Seeing Mal has regained his feet and his weapon, he shouts over the din of battle to him and Vesh. "Form up, fellas! Follow Salome...and somebody pick up that damn bird!"
Happy to be leaving the wretched cathedral, Malcolm runs towards the arch and his companions.
Zieke waits for Vesh and Mal to cross the room before falling back to the ladder as well. Seeing one of the wrathspawn still twitching on the floor, he quickly dispatches it.
"Ehlissa! Let's go!" he urges as he guards the exit. Knowing she's the only one left with a weapon likely to effect the quasit, he realizes she'll need to be the last one out. But he's determined to stay and make sure nothing else gets behind her...or, on the off-chance she should fall to some unforeseen attack...to carry her out.
As cries resounding around her, Ehlissa stares at the quasit and declares, "Will you face me or will you remain a coward?" in a steely voice.
As cries resounding around her, Ehlissa stares at the quasit and declares, "Will you face me or will you remain a coward?" in a steely voice.
'Awww...son of a...!' Zieke inwardly complains when he hears Ehlissa's challenge to the quasit, 'She's gonna get herself killed...and me along with her!'
A wizard, are you! More like a lucky fool! Your luck has run out!
His luck has run out? Thinks Vesh as he looks at the black tendrils of--something--snake up his arm. Has mine?
Anger coursing through him, Vesh flicks out an arrow and fires again. Holy Desna, please!
Vesh (Blessed Weapon) vs. Quasit (1d20+6=12, 1d6+2=4)
Vesh's heart sinks as the arrow sails wide as if in answer to his question. He falls back to Ehlissa and turns, facing the Quasit. "Ehlissa," He says as he reaches her, "we need to leave." Even as he says so, he reaches for another another arrow with a deepening frown. "Now might be a good time to fall back."
"Then go, Vesh. Slidell is hurt; I'll fend this thing off as long as I can."
"Then go, Vesh. Slidell is hurt; I'll fend this thing off as long as I can."
With what? Can you reach fifteen feet with your sword? Vesh's frown deepens as his mind flashes to the vile wound on his wrist.
Looking at the young woman's resolve, he can't decide if he respects her determination or thinks her foolish. Perhaps this is her battle to fight. "Good luck." He says simply and backs away towards the archway--he had never really stopped moving, he realizes.
Looking at the young woman's resolve, he can't decide if he respects her determination or thinks her foolish. Perhaps this is her battle to fight.
"Come away, son..." Zieke speaks in a reassuring tone, unsure if Vesh can hear him, "I've got her back."
"Good luck." He says simply and backs away towards the archway--he had never really stopped moving, he realizes.
Zieke guards Vesh as he starts the descent, ensuring no more wrathspawn or flying quasits target him. Up close, he notices the grievous wound on the young man's arm. 'What kind of horrors does this devil-witch command?' he wonders.
"Have Salome take a look at that when you get down," he advises, a dead-serious, focused tone to his voice, "And you and Mal make sure she gets Slidell out of here. We'll be close behind..."
Malcolm 19+
Vesh 19
Wrathspawn 16+
Quasit 16
Ehlissa 16-
Slidell 13
Zieke 13-
Salome 11
Quasit:
"Noooooooooo! Master's runewell!" she shrieks. "Run and hide! Run and hide! There's no escape from death!"
And with that, she disappears from sight.
"Aw, that can't be good." Slidell mutters. His gaze is captured by the flickering and darkening of the pool. "A 'Runewell' is it? Well, at least we seem to have exhausted it's primary ability. At least, I hope that's all it did!" He glances at it nervously.
Suddenly the tall Chelaxian sways on his feet. It is as if he just realized how much abuse his body has suffered. His hair is almost entirely burnt off, his unburned flesh is bright red from the acidity of the orange liquid, and his clothes hang in burnt, shredded and acid-dipped tatters.
"I wonder if I look as bad as I feel?" He mutters. With a gesture, his staff raises from where it fell next to the pool when he fell in, and flies to his hand. He leans on it heavily, and makes his way as quickly as possible toward the archway. "Veran?" He whispers nervously as he approaches the arch.
With a pained chirp, Veran hops from the shadow of the archway, shedding the remains of his acid-damaged bindings. He hops and flutters to Slidell, his injuries obvious.
"Thank Nethys!" Slidell says with an unashamed tear as he clutches his familiar. "Do you realize how much trouble you've caused you overgrown pigeon? Next time I think I'll just leave you for Spawn-chow!"
"ME?!" Veran squawks. "I was just following orders! And I didn't fall in the mystic, evil well!" The bird replies with no trace of a 'trained bird' accent.
"I hear that Miramar has an abundance of Pseudodragons. I wonder if I could find one that would like to be a familiar?"
This continues as Slidell stumbles hastily towards the exit, apparently oblivious to the guiding hands of the others.
Once Slidell has his staff back in his hand, Salome strides past him, her jaw set. Except for some muttering to herself in Qadi as she once again adjusts the bloody scarf around her neck, she neither speaks nor makes eye contact with anyone. Heal check, yet again (1d20+7=27)
Noticing Vesh's wounded arm, she puts a hand on his elbow and says something in Qadi, familiar to Vesh from a lifetime ago -- or just last week -- when Bethana was crying in the inn. But she refuses to look at him or anyone else.
Salome walks behind the group stone-faced and silent as they retrace their path out of the shrine. Despite her clenched jaw, her lower lip quivers slightly, which only makes her seethe more.
Ehlissa's eyes narrow as the Quasit disappears, and she turns to the rest of the group.
"Drat!" she says under her breath.
She spies a 'familiar' figure near Slidell and asks quietly, "Thank goodness. Are you alright, little friend?"
"Good Lady, Stormraven, what happened? In future, I think you should stay at the back."
Zieke backs up with the rest of the group toward the exit, keeping a practiced eye on the remaining wrathspawn.
"Everybody down..." Zieke urges, "There's still another one in there. And only Pharasma knows where that devil-witch got off to..." He nods at the ladder. "Salome and Slidell first. Vesh and then Mal. Ehlissa and I will guard the rear."
"Let's make sure everyone gets out of here safely. I just wish we could pin that thing down!"
"Let's make sure everyone gets out of here safely. I just wish we could pin that thing down!"
Zieke nods in agreement as he glances about for any tell-tale signs of the quasit swooping down on them. Spotting nothing, he turns back to continue holding off the newly summoned wrathspawn.
"It'll be pinned enough if we make it down," he tells the paladin, "The ladder should serve as a bottle-neck. And, if we have to fall back further, we can use the portal again and set a watch. After that, there'll be plenty of time to pin its ears back when we return. But we've got to get out safely first..."
"You've got the weapon to hold off that devil," he finishes, "I'll go after the others. But you follow me straight down after that. No more heroics today. Got it? Don't make me come back up here after you, sweetheart..."
"Right, let's go then." Ehlissa says shortly. "As I remember, young man, it was you who had to be rescued by a girl today. I won't think any less of you." she adds in passing.
"Right, let's go then." Ehlissa says shortly. "As I remember, young man, it was you who had to be rescued by a girl today. I won't think any less of you." she adds in passing.
"Hey! As I recall, I took the brunt of just about every assault, sweetheart," he calls after her, "Not to mention doling out most of the killing blows. What held you up? Afraid you'd break a nail?"
She spies a 'familiar' figure near Slidell and asks quietly, "Thank goodness. Are you alright, little friend?"
The familiar turns to look at Ehlissa. "FIne M'lady. Thank you. Better than mush-for-brains here at any rate."
"Hey!" Slidell retorts cleverly.
"I mean seriously, who ever heard of a mage playing pat-a-cake with the evil, summoned monstrosities?
"You thought it was a bloody brilliant idea when it was YOU 'swimmin' with the Spawn'!" Slidell mutters darkly, stiffly making is way down the makeshift ladder.
"And what happened to the 'pet bird' routine? Just decided to tell the world did we?"
Veran turns a condescending eye back to Slidell. "If they haven't figured it out who the brains are by now, they're dumber than you look!"
Slidell's muffled response is unintelligible. With the possible exception of the words "replaced", and "featherduster".
"Good Lady, Stormraven, what happened? In future, I think you should stay at the back."
Slidell pauses briefly, and his eyes unfocus, as if seeing something from his past.
"Yes, In the back, Good idea, Should have thought of that,..." With a shake of his head, he begins making his way again. From the way he moves, he is either very good at controlling his pain, or else the combined wounds are all so overwhelming that they simply don't register anymore.
"Right, let's go then." Ehlissa says shortly. "As I remember, young man, it was you who had to be rescued by a girl today. I won't think any less of you." she adds in passing."Hey! As I recall, I took the brunt of just about every assault, sweetheart," he calls after her, "Not to mention doling out most of the killing blows. What held you up? Afraid you'd break a nail?"
"Oh don't worry, I understand that it must have been difficult to fend off their blows. I feel your pain, and can only advise that you work on your defensive stances. I'd far rather you avoided their blows rather than soaked them up like an over-grown sponge." Ehlissa replies with over-concern, "I realise that the demon not being around did allow you to show off a bit, so I think it was quite a bit of good fortune for you that Salome and I were around to 'help you out'."
"Oh don't worry, I understand that it must have been difficult to fend off their blows. I feel your pain, and can only advise that you work on your defensive stances. I'd far rather you avoided their blows rather than soaked them up like an over-grown sponge." Ehlissa replies with over-concern, "I realise that the demon not being around did allow you to show off a bit, so I think it was quite a bit of good fortune for you that Salome and I were around to 'help you out'."
"Hey...I got mine, sweetheart!" Zieke quips on their way down the ladder, "And where's that devil-demon-whatever-thing? Still flying around last I saw. And who had the big, bad sword that could hurt it? Oh. That's right. You did. So even with all the advantages on your side, I still had to carry most of the fight."
He looks up at the paladin's feet near his head and then stops in place until she bumps into him. While she's holding still, he raises up to catch her eyes when she looks down at him.
"You know, maybe if you'd let go of some of that honor-bound prancing dance stuff you consider defensive stances..." he tells her, "As opposed to just standing around not doing anything useful...then you'd have taken that thing's head off or finished a few more of those wrathspawn before they clawed everybody up. But no, here we are...in full retreat."
His eyes flash as he meets her stare.
"So, between your unwillingness to take an opening when you see one..." he finishes, "And that insane wizard-friend of yours, it's a wonder we didn't leave someone lying dead back there. It's all I could do to make sure we saved him...much less you from yourself!"
"I appreciate that you couldn't quite make out that I inflicted a near mortal wound on it that sent it screaming off. It may also have escaped your notice, as I believe you were telling a grandmother how to suck eggs at the time, that the creature appears to have the ability to heal itself. Not very sporting at all."
Ehlissa comes up to the big warrior once they're down and looking him in the eye says, "You know, I did wonder if the ever-so deferential common swordhand act was exactly that, an act. You're a professional, I'll give you that, but now I do have to wonder why you're really here..."
Ehlissa than smiles, "I'm joking. You remind me of someone. He's also a complete prat, but as long as you stop trying to act like the captain of the guard I think you could fit in here."
"You're laying the blame for us withdrawing on me? Why do you need to apportion blame at all? A battle is like the ripples on the water; one either flows with the water or drowns. What matters is that we're all alive and rescued Veran. Our aim was to rescue our friend; I think I lost sight of that for a second. We can fight another day, but today everybody lives."
"I appreciate that you couldn't quite make out that I inflicted a near mortal wound on it that sent it screaming off. It may also have escaped your notice, as I believe you were telling a grandmother how to suck eggs at the time, that the creature appears to have the ability to heal itself. Not very sporting at all."
Ehlissa comes up to the big warrior once they're down and looking him in the eye says, "You know, I did wonder if the ever-so deferential common swordhand act was exactly that, an act. You're a professional, I'll give you that, but now I do have to wonder why you're really here..."
Ehlissa then smiles, "I'm joking. You remind me of someone. He's also a complete prat, but as long as you stop trying to act like the captain of the guard I think you could fit in here."
"You're laying the blame for us withdrawing on me? Why do you need to apportion blame at all? A battle is like the ripples on the water; one either flows with the water or drowns. What matters is that we're all alive and rescued Veran. Our aim was to rescue our friend; I think I lost sight of that for a second. We can fight another day, but today everybody lives."
Zieke opens his mouth for another retort, then thinks better of it. Glancing once more at the top of the ladder to ensure nothing has followed them down, the air seems to go out of him and a wave of nausea hits him like a wall. He turns and retches into a corner. Once he finishes, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve and straightens.
"Alright...agreed," he says, taking a long steadying breath, "Everybody lives. Let's just make sure we fight better tomorrow. And promise to hear me out on any suggestions I might make. I really don't want to experience that all over again..."
"Come away, son..." Zieke speaks in a reassuring tone, unsure if Vesh can hear him, "I've got her back."
But Vesh has already left, if only in his own mind. He retreats into some recess of his thoughts to escape feeling overwhelmed by what has just happened.
Noticing Vesh's wounded arm, she puts a hand on his elbow and says something in Qadi, familiar to Vesh from a lifetime ago -- or just last week -- when Bethana was crying in the inn. But she refuses to look at him or anyone else...
Salome's lilting lullaby is like a resounding echo inside Vesh's skull and he looks at her, fully in the eyes, for the first time...
Salome walks behind the group stone-faced and silent as they retrace their path out of the shrine. Despite her clenched jaw, her lower lip quivers slightly, which only makes her seethe more.
Vesh notices that Salome falls back, allowing the loudly arguing Ehlissa and Zieke to pass her. He respects Salome's privacy but becomes increasingly annoyed at Ehlissa and Zieke's chatter.
As the party makes its way out, passing the washroom, the temple proper, and the bizarre tilted chamber where he almost died, Vesh leaves Mal to tend to Slidell and slowly allows Ehlissa and Zieke to overtake him as they pick their way around the rubble.
Finally, negotiating the tilting stairs, he silently falls in step with Salome. He does not speak until well after Slidell deactivates the magic portal and they all step through to the huge passage beyond.
"Have you ever seen 'Velashu Snow'--the flower?" Vesh whispers his question to Salome.
Slidell stumbles onward, oblivious to the guiding hand of Mal on his arm. He is too tired to act on it physically, but the Wrathspawn's poison courses through his body, causing his thoughts to jumble heatedly and his mind to race.
'What was I thinking? I could have gotten Veran killed. I could have been killed!'
'Stupid bird! He should have been more careful!'
'No! I should have realized that the Imp could have been there!
He moves slowly through the facility,...
'I should have transferred Mal, or Vesh. THEY would have kept their footing. Or at least been able to get out of the well. Or even Zieke. At least HE would have been able to fight off the wrathspawn.'
'Zieke! That Witless warrior! This is as much his fault as mine! Distracting me with his incessant babbling. Always shouting orders like some romance scroll hero!'
Distracted by his inner pain and turmoil, it is only at the gentle yet persistent and frantic urgings of his friends that he becomes aware they have arrived at the portal. HE waves his hand and murmurs 'Thyrori'. From the tone, you can't tell if he is hissing in anger, or crying. But the amount of cold the spell generates is far more than the simple, thin beam of the cantrip should be able to create.
The rest is a red-hazed, pain-ridden blur. He vaguely recognizes a familiar seeming pillow, then blackness. A familiar voice comes as if from far away. The voice of the featureless mage of his dreams.
"You are one very lucky Wizard. I do not know if it is your personal gift from the gods, or just the luck of having the right companions around you. Rest now. Recover. Learn from your mistakes, and from your successes. Go forth and complete your self appointed quests, and then you can return and,..."
"Well, You will fulfill your destiny. Rest now little mageling. This will help." Slidell feels a touch on his forehead, the red haze of the Wrathspawns poison dissipates, and he sighs as he fades into a silent, dreamless sleep,...
"Have you ever seen 'Velashu Snow'--the flower?" Vesh whispers his question to Salome.
Startled out of her reverie, Salome looks a little surprised to see Vesh right next to her. As she looks up to see him, he notices her red-rimmed eyes. She quickly drops her head again and instinctively covers her face, trying to hide any evidence of less-than-stoic emotions. She turns away and answers distantly, "No, I have never seen any kind of snow."
Touched by Vesh's kindness, Salome blinks slowly and takes a deep breath. She tries to smile at her friend. A friend! She closes her eyes again and inhales. "Vesh, you are a wonderful bazé. Right now, I am not--I cannot--I--I..." she swallows. Then, barely audible, "I give up. I am sorry. I am sorry about your arm. I am sorry about the wrathspawn, the djini, the whole thing. I could not even help you--" she points to his arm and shakes her head. "They can fix it at the cathedral. I have to go."
When Zieke reaches the top of the cliff, he's starting to feel a little better from his nausea. The cool ocean breeze and fresh air certainly helps, not to mention his little purging episode back in the ruins. He takes the hand of the first guard to help him up, a grim smile on his face.
"Well, boys, that was certainly interesting..." he announces, feeling much more in his element among the guardsmen, "Send a runner to the Mayor. I've got news for her. And we need to post some more guards on this side of the Glassworks and the tunnels below. There's still a danger down there. It's probably contained for now. But we'll need to head back tomorrow and end the threat once and for all."
"Bloody hell," he looks down at his ragged clothes and armor, streaked with the gore of his wounds as well as that of the wrathspawn they'd managed to dispatch, "I need to clean up. And, man, am I tired..." He stifles a yawn. "I'm headed for the barracks," he informs them, "Keep an eye out for these folks. See 'em safely back to wherever they're roomin' tonight. If you detect anything else coming out of those tunnels, you come find me. Straight away, too. No dilly-dallying or playing hero. This is as serious as it gets. Just come straight to me and hightail it out of there."
Before they all go their separate ways, Zieke checks on everyone else to make sure their injuries aren't life-threatening. He notes Vesh's wound looks much better and nods at the young man. He's taken aback once he realizes Salome had a similar injury.
"I'd have never known it," he tells the priestess once she replaces her scarf, "You're one tough bird." His statement has a measure of warmth and respect to it that he hasn't shown as strongly to the others so far. "If you or the rest of your group need anything tonight...if anybody's wounds get worse...or whatever, you let me know and I'll find whatever help I can. I'll be at the barracks over by the garrison."
He then approaches Slidell and gestures towards Veran. "The bird doin' alright?" he asks, "Good. I told you I'd help get it back. And I'm glad I could live up to that promise. Just didn't realize I'd be haulin' your butt out of a devil-spawnin' well, too." He smiles at the wizard's haggard expression. "You look about the same way I feel, but I think you took the worst of it. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."
Lastly, Zieke approaches Ehlissa. "Well, sweetheart..." he draws out his new pet name for her, knowing full well it probably irritates her, "That was a hell of an adventure down there. What do you say we do it all over again tomorrow?" He grins at his own joke, hoping to get at least a smile out of her. Regardless of her response, he continues undaunted. "I'll talk to the Mayor tonight," he explains, "Let her know what's what...and our intentions. And no matter what I said during the battle down there, you fought well. Let's hope we fight even better tomorrow. We'll talk in the morning..."
With that, Zieke leaves for the garrison. He changes out of his armor and clothes, washes up, and then goes to see the Mayor to give her an update. He half-hoped it would be a quick rundown, but she winds up asking him more questions than he wanted to answer. Finally begging off to get enough rest to continue their investigation of the tunnels in the morning, he heads back to the barracks and goes straight to bed.
Tired and hurt, Malcolm stumbles out of the tunnels with everyone else. He looks up at the night sky and takes a deep breath. He's gald to be out of the hellish tunnels and away from their demonic inhabitants. He's brought back into the present by the pain from his wounds and takes Saolme's suggestion, slowly walking to the cathedral to seek Father Zantus' aid [i]'After all, he owes me. We saved his
Startled out of her reverie, Salome looks a little surprised to see Vesh right next to her. As she looks up to see him, he notices her red-rimmed eyes. She quickly drops her head again and instinctively covers her face, trying to hide any evidence of less-than-stoic emotions. She turns away and answers distantly, "No, I have never seen any kind of snow."
Vesh smiles, "Ah. Well 'Velashu Snow' is quite beautiful, the petals are white, of course, and the flowers are small and quite delicate. But the uplands are a wind-scoured plain, given to mostly grey sage or prairie grasses. And 'Velashu Snow' protects its flowers--they only bloom, perhaps, one or two days a season and only in the calmest weather. There are many years when their blossoms do not open at all. I lived on the Uplands for all of fifteen years and only saw a field of them in full bloom three times."
His eyes grow far away, "But, oh Salome," he whispers, his eyes tearing up, "you have never seen a sight so beautiful as a field of Velashu Snow in full bloom. It is so white and pure that in daylight it can be blinding. But at night, in the full moon..." He trails off. "I rarely miss my life as a child on the Uplands, but when I think of Velashu Snow, I would teleport us back this instant if I knew that the fields were in bloom, just to show you."
"It is only a shame that it blooms so rarely--that it shows its delicate beauty only a few times during a lifetime."
He looks at Salome and whispers, "I am not much of a bazé," he says, "but I will not let you leave one dungeon to consign yourself to another."
Touched by Vesh's kindness, Salome blinks slowly and takes a deep breath. She tries to smile at her friend. A friend! She closes her eyes again and inhales. "Vesh, you are a wonderful bazé. Right now, I am not--I cannot--I--I..." she swallows. Then, barely audible, "I give up. I am sorry. I am sorry about your arm. I am sorry about the wrathspawn, the djini, the whole thing. I could not even help you--" she points to his arm and shakes her head. "They can fix it at the cathedral. I have to go."
Vesh starts, "Salome!..." but she is gone. He breaths deeply and stands in the deepening darkness of evening.
As the others disperse, he hangs back and lets the sea breeze tussle his hair. Looking up at the emerging stars, he half-expects to see them descend and turn into butterflies. He blinks and realizes that tears are running down his face, hot and fast. He is weeping, weeping for himself and his lost love, weeping for his sister, weeping for the sight of butterflies and snow-flowers, weeping for Slidell thrashing around in a well of acid, and weeping for the retreating figure of the armored cleric who gives everything and still believes it is not enough.
He turns, and without a word to the others, follows Mal to the Cathedral.
Ehlissa looks at Zieke and says "You know, don't think you're so jolly important that I couldn't whack you into next week. The only reason I haven't slapped you in the face for your insults is that you were under the influence of the rage poison."
With a narrow-eyed gaze she adds, "At least, I would like to believe that, so I think you should stick with that story."
As she turns to go she says with a smile, "Try not to get poisoned again."
Ehlissa looks at Zieke and says "You know, don't think you're so jolly important that I couldn't whack you into next week. The only reason I haven't slapped you in the face for your insults is that you were under the influence of the rage poison."
With a narrow-eyed gaze she adds, "At least, I would like to believe that, so I think you should stick with that story."
As she turns to go she says with a smile, "Try not to get poisoned again."
"Ahhh...too late for that," Zieke quips with a smirk, mockingly holding his hand over his heart with an imaginary pain, "Your words, milady...they're so venomous they wound! If only you had turned that weapon against a few more wrathspawn and talked them to death...but, wait! Perhaps that should be our new strategy tomorrow?"
"Sleep tight, sweetheart," he chuckles, "And while you're dreaming of whacking me into next week, let one image fill your mind. The day you slap me in the face is the day I put you over my knee and show you some real discipline. You know, warrior to warrior." He then winks and walks away, pretending not to hear her expected retort.
As he walks through the dark towards the barracks, his laughter occasionally rings out...all the more insulting and roguish in its bravado. But the laughter makes him feel better, as well as the opportunity to get under the paladin's skin that much more. 'She needs to loosen up,' he tells himself, 'She's wound tighter than a goblin in a kennel...'
"That was... truly vomit-inducing. You were doing well, but I think camp doxies like that sort of thing more. Bye now."
Returning to her room, Salome notices the bowl of fruit and bread on the table is replenished. First things first, she admonishes herself, despite her sudden consciousness of hunger.
Slowly, methodically, she removes her armor, fills the basin with the nearby pitcher of water, and looks in the mirror. She sees streaks of blood, dust, tears on her face and hands. Stained. I am stained. Carefully, she unties the bloody scarf from her neck, removes her hijab, and lets down her waist-length hair. After she washes her face, hands, and hair, she leaves the scarf to soak in the basin and re-dresses her wound with clean bandages from her healer's kit. More blood to wash out. Back to the stream tomorrow. Back to where I began. She sighs and feels the soreness and heaviness in her muscles.
She combs her hair and her thoughts turn to her mother. Her brave, beautiful mother, who smelled of warm spices and coconut milk. Like those snow-flowers, too beautiful for this world, too good, too short in living... She begins to hum, and imagines her mother humming Salome's birthsong while combing and braiding her hair in intricate Qadi style.
"Mami," she whispers. "You could not stop it. How can I be expected to? It is too much, too much. I cannot do this."
The next morning, Zieke awakens still somewhat sore and moving gingerly from his wounds. 'Feels like old times,' he thinks as he recalls his days on the run in the wilderness north of Korvosa.
"Korvosa," he speaks the name aloud as he looks at himself in a small mirror nailed to the barracks wall. The big city felt like a world away sometimes. But even so, he missed it, too.
On his way out into the morning air, he nods to some of the guardsmen, carrying a small sack of his belongings with him. The sun was just starting to rise. His favorite time of the day...
He takes a small worn path away from the garrison towards the coast. Seating himself on a cold stone, he closes his eyes and meditates for a moment while listening to the ocean's waves at the base of the cliff. A few minutes later, he opens the small sack and removes his scrolls of Tian Xia. Opening them gingerly, he sets about the task of reviewing the next lesson. This chapter discusses how to hone one's reflexes beyond those of a normal man. According to the words, practicing certain maneuvers can refine true warriors to avoid the arrows and slings of distant opponents...or strike multiple times as adversaries seek to get past one's guarded position.
Zieke spends at least half an hour studying the stick figure illustrations and accompanying instructions. Then, he rolls up the scrolls and replaces them in his pack. With the sun starting to fully crest to the east, he removes his shirt and starts the breathing exercises he'd mastered so far. Then, slowly because of his injuries, he goes through the forms he'd learned, paying careful attention to his breathing on each well-placed strike or block. Midway through the form, he spins and draws the ancient blade belted at his waist with a ring of steel, weaving it into the routine. The sunlight glints and flashes as he spins and slashes at imaginary foes, focusing only on improving himself according to the tenets of Irori's faith and the Tian Xia teachings. If he wanted to contribute to the safety of Sandpoint and eliminate the threat below the Kaijitsu Glassworks, he believe he'd need to come as close to perfection as possible.
Thirty minutes later the sun has fullen risen and sweat glistens on his chiseled frame. Zieke sheathes the sword and retrieves his things, returning to the garrison to wash up. Then, he eats breakfast with the other guards, listening as those who stood watch during the night give their report on the safety of the tunnels he'd asked them to protect. He goes and collects his weapons and armor after that, inspecting them for damage or needed repair work. His eyes keep examining the ancient sword they'd found in the ruins. It was finely made. Better crafted than the one he'd brought with him from Korvosa. It seemed only fitting to carry it back to the final battle with the devil-witch and her wrathspawn.
After cleaning up his gear, Zieke suits up again, shrugging into his armor and strapping on his blades, shield, and bow. Then he ventures into the town proper, seeking out Father Zantus at the cathedral and asking for his blessing. He also inquires about purchasing more healing potions, offering to trade his masterwork Korvosan blade in exchange.
"There's no telling what we'll face down there again," he informs the priest after describing the dangers below the Glassworks, "If it turns out I don't use these potions, I'd like to return them to you and reclaim the sword. It's got...sentimental value. But it's the only valuable thing I can afford to part with right now."
Salome unrolls her prayer rug and kneels facing east. She opens her mouth to pray, but no words come out. Just heaving sobs and flashes of words through her head. Hopeless. Lost. Alone. Leave. Just leave. It's not worth it.
Completely spent, she hears once again the distant memory of her mother humming her birthsong. "Shh, Babi. Go to sleep. We're safe for now and my Babi needs her rest. Shh..."
Obediently, Salome rolls her tear-splattered prayer rug and falls into bed, wishing her tears could clean the pain from her wounded heart.
Leave. Just leave...
Slidell wakes up.
He doesn't feel good. In fact he feels almost exactly as if he had gone swimming in a vat of mild acid and flaming oil while wrestling with Wrathspawn.
Oh. That's right.
He rises slowly, eliciting a weak protest from his familiar, who had been sleeping with him instead of perched on the headboard as was his usual wont. The tall mage stumbled to his wash table, managing to splash some water into the basin and then onto his face.
"Well Veran, I've looked better." He croaked as he took in his burnt and battered visage, and his acid-tattered and shredded clothes. His wounds weren't bleeding anymore, but they were still there, and they hurt like #@((.
Slowly and painfully he removed the tattered remnants of his clothing, and cleaned the worst of the blood and grime from his body, taking care to make sure the deep gashes he had received from the Wrathspawn were as clean as he could get them. He then turned his attentions to Veran.
"Sit still! Wiggling Won't Help! Of COURSE it hurts, I'm a Wizard, not a Doctor!" He continues rambling, and it is obvious he is merely talking to hear himself talk.
"Mother wanted me to be a Cleric. 'Party needs a healer' she said. Bah. Fighters with all the brains of a doorknob attack something twenty times their size with a bazillion Hit Points, and they expect ME to pull their heads out of their ribcages. I'm a Wizard. I cast spells. I blast bad guys and banish demons! I, I,..." He stops working on Veran, and tries not to cry. Well, I didn't make Salome's job any easier now, did I?'
"D@mn you Veran. Your a sorry excuse for a featherduster, but if anything had happened to you,..."
"I know master." The raven replied, calling Slidell by the honorific he almost never used.
The moment passed, and Slidell appraised the remains of his outfit with a distressed look. "Well, I have an excuse to go shopping at least!" He said with all the enthusiasm of a man offered his last meal. He cleaned out the remains of his pockets, 'How did I ever manage to fit all this junk into one outfit?' And searched through his travel bag for a change of clothing.
"Aw no. Is this all I have? I thought I threw it away? I swore I would never wear this thing again. It's so,... so,... cliche!" He moaned. Sighing theatrically, he slipped into his old robe and looked at himself in the room's tiny mirror. At that moment his strength gave out, and he collapsed onto the bed.
Veran hopped over to the small bowl of fruit on the washstand, and brought Slidell an apple. Ruffling the bird's head in thanks, slidell devoured it, and began to feel a little better.
"We had better see if I can't get us some professional help." He said, standing slowly. "I'm thinking the temple. IF Salome's not there, or if she refuses to talk to me, We can talk to the Father." He reached out his hand, and his staff flew into it.
"Mage Hand? Now why didn't I just use THAT to fish you out of the well?!?" He mumbled as he pulled his hood over his head and stumbled to the door.
"Well, if you were as smart as you thought you were,..."
"Alright tasty-treat, save it for an audience. And can we at least keep you a secret from the general public? You have an adoring fan club now, that'll just have to do for a bit."
Slidell made his way slowly downstairs. Pausing only to snag a loaf of bread for himself and Veran, he leaned on his staff heavily as he made his way toward the Temple.
Zieke:
Despite the late hour, Mayor Deverin agrees to meet with you in her private study. The walls are lined with books, though you can't help but notice there are also a pair of portraits: one of the Mayor and two sturdy knights and another of the mayor sitting crosslegged beside a lanky fellow. You can't help but notice that the pommel of his sword, visible in the corner of the painting, bears a striking resemblance to Ehlissa's.
'Interesting,' Zieke frowns, finding it hard to focus on the Mayor's questioning due to his curiosity about the weapon in the portrait as well as his own immediate need to find a bed. But he witholds asking about the blade for now, simply filing away the information for a later time.
Mayor Deverin listens intently as you give your report. As you conclude with your orders to post guards at the cave, she suddenly grows very concerned...
The evening seems to drone on and on...and Zieke has to stifle his yawns several times to stay on point with the Mayor. He feels like he keeps repeating himself during their entire conversation.
"Yes..."
"Yes, of course..."
"Yes...I mean no..."
"Of course not..."
"Nothing to worry yourself over right now..."
"No, there's not a goblin army down there..."
"Not exactly demons or devils, no..."
"Yes, they're dangerous..."
"Yes, ma'am...I understand your concern..."
"We cut them down easily enough...really thinned out their numbers..."
"It'll be fine with the guards stationed there..."
"No other way out that we found..."
"Yes...yes, of course..."
"Yes, ma'am..."
"Every confidence, yes..."
"First thing in the morning, absolutely..."
"They'll be fine...just need some rest..."
"Really should leave them be right now..."
"It'll be okay..."
"Yes, my professional opinion..."
"Full responsibility, of course..."
"...what? Yes! Yes, of course, I'm listening..."
"I take it very seriously, ma'am..."
"Exactly. Couldn't agree more..."
"Right away. First sign of trouble..."
"Thank you, ma'am...yes, a pleasant evening to you as well."
You are healed to full hp in the morning.
The following morning you meet with Father Zantus who informs you that there are only a couple of healing potions available at the cathedral and they need them for urgent cases. But Corporal Marsk has recently taken a small number of potions to the garrison for the officers' supply. After speaking to the garrison quartermaster, you are able to leave your sword as collateral on a pair of cure light wounds potions and a potion of cat's grace.
"Many thanks, quartermaster..." Zieke shakes the man's hand, "Tell Corporal Marsk if Belor gets back before we return from the tunnels, you make sure he knows about the danger and that I'm involved. Somebody's got to keep an eye on these 'heroes' after all..."
Feeling much enthused, Zieke makes sure the various potions are properly secured to the weapon harness attached to his armor. He then heads to one of the shops in town to inquire about buying a couple of acid flasks...hoping to surprise the witch-devil with a homegrown solution to the problem. After securing that purchase, he then makes his way back to the Glassworks and the cliffside with the rope ladder.
Not waiting for the rest of the party, he scales down to the tunnel opening and converses again with the guards on duty. With whatever time he has before the others arrive, he uses the morning light shining into the caves to poke around, checking for sign of any other activities in the tunnels during the night.
Perception check...(1d20+5 = 8)...and Survival check... (1d20+7 = 23)