O.L.L.I stands still, almost paralyzed computing the permutations of the combat. He is aware of Yuan-Ti, and knows their reputation for chaos, but the two fighting them are also not exactly Modrons either. He hears the entreaty from one of the Yuan-ti to Thorn and considers its import. He continues to scan the dilapitated building for anything out of the ordinary.
"Die! Die! Die!"
Despite the painful searing of flesh and body hair, Reghar desperately wrestles with the Yuan-ti. It rotates and flexes its limbs in an unnatural parody of human movement, but he just barely manages to maintain his grasp thanks to the "anchor" he's installed in the creature's leg. However, the struggles keep him from getting a proper grip on the creature's neck.
Thorn
With the snakeperson's desperate request, something weird happens. You suddenly feel as if you may have had a few too many at the Tear of the Barghest before heading out. Your head feels too large for your body and your limbs feel relaxed. The sound throughout the room takes on a dim fuzzyness, the only thing cutting through being the creature's entreaties and the mutterings of Aym in your head.
That berk with the plate on his face...could it be Enoch? Regardless, he looks like he would be better off venting his aggressive urges in the Gatehouse, in a cell by himself...
O.L.L.I sees the strange metal-mouthed man using a divine function that he had seen before while patrolling with the Harmonium. This and the strange way that Thorn's oddly-shaped pupils have dialated after the Yuan-Ti talked to him decides him that the Yuan-Ti are the aggressor here.
Moving quickly, Deris slips into the building. She keeps to the right, skirting the edge of the debris and keeping an eye on the battle. She quickly scans the yuan-ti for the leather bound journal.
Too many voices whispering, telling him what to do … sometimes it’s just easier to do it.
“Enoch … put him in the Gatehouse,” slurs Thorn, his pupils dilated and his head shaking slightly, as if he’s half-heartedly disagreeing with his own words.
His fingers slowly loosen from his sickle, which clatters to the floor a thousand miles a way, and he begins to trot sluggishly towards the metal-mouthed man, muscles flexing, fingers twitching.
Wonderful day this is turning out to be. Note to self: If we live through this, teach the four legged man to resist charms…
Knowing the fault does not lie with the Bariaur, Rennet does not resist the grapple or lash out, trusting to his armor spikes to discourage a prolonged grab.
O.L.L.I sees Thorn succumb to the Yuan-Ti's hypnosis. He decides the only way to break the enchantment is to jar the serpent-man.
Yuan-Ti-1 on 23
Reghar 21(still trying to grapple?) (at 14 hp after the acid)
Rennet - smiting Yuan-ti 16 (17 hp)
Yuan-Ti-2 on 15
Kev (?) 13
O.L.L.I (attacks Y2,double move from A6 to D1) 13
Thorn (moving to C3, grappling Rennet) 8
Deris (?)
Deris quickly slipped into the building, heading to the right and skirting the debris on the floor. She quickly eyed the battle, pausing near to the yuan ti and half orc grappling.
Just waiting on Kev and Reghar's actions/rolls and then I'll sum up the round with the Yuan-ti's business.
Kev continues up towards the stairs, ignoring the fight in the tavern and willing the combatants to ignore him in turn.
Just waiting on Kev and Reghar's actions/rolls and then I'll sum up the round with the Yuan-ti's business.
Reghar pours on all his strength into one last desperate grapple against the yuan-ti. "The strong live and the weak shall die!"
Yuan-Ti-1 on 23
Reghar 21(grappling) (at 14 hp after the acid)
Rennet - smiting Yuan-ti 16 (17 hp)
Yuan-Ti-2 on 15
Kev (moving up the stairs) 13
O.L.L.I (attacks Y2,double move from A6 to D1) 13
Thorn (moving to C3, grappling Rennet) 8
Deris (double move to F2) 3
As Reghar's thick fist seeks its windpipe, the hissing snake-faced man snaps with its too-wide mouth for the half-orc's forearm Bite:1d20+4=9, 1d6+1=4 but can't get his mouth close enough. Reghar's screams fill the abandoned tavern's common room as he continues to try and press the life from his opponent. Sweat pouring from his ample frame, he desperately trys to maintain his grip, only to be thwarted when the creature makes an unexpected (and likely painful) pivot on its pierced leg, breaking free Grapple: 1d20+9=25.
With a furrowed brow and eyes flashing briefly cobalt, Rennet makes a powerful overhand slash against the Yuan-ti as it breaks its gaze from Thorn, satisfied that it's friendly request has been heard and will be followed. It reels from the painful blow, smoking blood flowing in an arc from the jagged slash as it wails. In the blink of an eye, it has shrunk to resemble a small copperhead snake and attempts to slip between Rennet's planted feet, even as the bariaur staggers toward the mute paladin.
Kev picks his way through the clutter toward the stairwell, eyeing the melees with casual disinterest. The creak of the stairs are muffled by the battle raging in the common room, enough so that he doesn't notice the loose stair until it's too late. Humid, bloated wood creaks under his light step and breaks, revealing a yawning hole that threatens to swallow his leg.
Trundling forward on comically thin legs, O.L.L.I swings his hammer to the floor, attempting to flatten the shapechanging snake. The creature proves to be too nimble for the modron, however and it attempts to flee into an overturned mass of broken and moldy chairs.
Thorn feels almost punch-drunk as he staggers after the slim scythe-wielding barmy. Though he doesn't feel entirely well, his grip is as strong as ever as he pins Rennet's arms, receiving a nasty prick from the slight man's armor spikes armor spikes: 1d6=1. His captive does not resist, however.
Walking nonchalantly through the common room, Deris approaches the screaming maniac and his snake-headed assailant, only now noticing the stack of corpses behind the bar.
Reghar grabs his spear and rips it from the leg of the Yuan-ti hoping that it causes more damage.
The pain from the barmy’s armour spikes cuts through the haze surrounding Thorn’s mind – somewhat. Instinctively, the bariaur lets go of the man and hefts his sickle … but no, they couldn’t help him at the Gatehouse if he was in the dead book. The voice had said subdue him… Thorn changes the grip on his sickle and attempts to hit the ‘madman’ over the head with its blunt end.
O.L.L.I attemps a second swing at the fleeing snake
O.L.L.I in a rare moment of dexterity smashes the snake.
Hoooly Creap! confirmation of crit!1d20+1=21
Guess the rolling still random, sigh: 1d6-1=1
O.L.L.I attemps a second swing at the fleeing snake
O.L.L.I in a rare moment of dexterity smashes the snake.
Hoooly Creap! confirmation of crit!1d20+1=21
Guess the rolling still random, sigh: 1d6-1=1
Kev's reflexes prove better than his ears as he almost instantly pulls his foot from the collapsing stair, while bracing his back against the brick retaining wall. Recovering, he steps more carefully up the remaining steps, keeping his right hand braced against the plaster coated wall, bubbled and moldy from the humidity in the decrepit taproom. It's getting more and more damp and hot as you continue up the stairs.
Attempting to back away towards the door, Rennet struggles futilely to withdraw from the iron grip of the Bariaur.
Attempting to back away towards the door, Rennet struggles futilely to withdraw from the iron grip of the Bariaur.
Yuan-Ti-1 on 23
Reghar 21 (pulling out spear) (current hp?)
Rennet 16 (grapple has ended; alternate action?)
Yuan-Ti-2 on 15
Kev (moving up the stairs, description of second floor to come) 13
O.L.L.I (crits snake-form; will draw card on wrap-up) 13
Thorn (attacking Rennet for subdual) 8
Deris (?) 3
Withdrawing carefully to avoid an AoO from Thorn then, I’ll step up next to the big guy and flank his target for him
Keeping an eye on the battle in front of her, Deris quickly scans the dead bodies for the leather book. Her eyes flicked up to the pretty boy (touched by celestial blood or just good looking?) and she watched him gracefully save his foot from the splintered stairs. Deris allowed herself a small grin as she waited for him to move on.
Yuan-Ti-1 on 23
Reghar 21 (pulling out spear) (14 hp)
Rennet 16 (flanking Yuan-Ti 1)
Yuan-Ti-2 on 15
Kev (moving up the stairs, description of second floor to come) 13
O.L.L.I (crits snake-form; "What's Going On?") 13
Thorn (attacking Rennet for subdual) 8
Deris (spot for leather journal, following Kev up the stairs) 3
The serpent-man facing the berserk Reghar Bloodseeker parries and feints with his kukri, attempting to ward off the hulking half-orc's menacing lunges and punches. Despite its alien ophidian features, Reghar can recognize a primal fear coming over the creature, even as it attempts to take several conservative slashes at him. Attack with 3 point combat expertise; AC 21 (1d20+7=18, 1d4+2=3)
The pain from the shallow slash doesn't even register to the berserk Prime as he dives for the spear he left for himself so thoughtfully in the yuan-ti's thigh. With all the care of a drunken tanr'ri chirurgeon that has much to gain from the death of his patient, Reghar yanks the spear, leaving a great hole and a gout of sizzling blood on the tavern floor. It hisses in pain, almost doubling over.
With the unusual modron pursuing the snake and the strange bariaur's great bear-hug momentarily averted, Rennet pulls himself toward the screaming man in the back and his silent opponent. The slim wanderer keeps his scythe in a guard position as he carefully picks his way over broken furniture and dodges sidelong swipes from the serpent-man as he gains on the creature's flank.
Kev nonchalantly brushes himself off as he carefully winds his way up the rickety stairs. Even the walls seem to sweat as the air grows thick and humid...
Modrons are not known for their nimble maneuverability and O.L.L.I notes that, in this case, the stereotype is 97.6% accurate. What is this feeling, as if a rotor gear in his mind is caught and stuttering? Is this what the Cagers call "frustration"? O.L.L.I does not find it to his liking, he decides, as he clanks and clatters through the rubble, chasing a shapechanging serpent. After backing the tricky creature into a corner, the modron pauses momentarily to calculate probabilities.
Calculating.
Calculating.
Calculation's complete. The modron swings his fun-sized warhammer at precisely the spot where the snake's head emerges! Connecting with as much force as his thin arm can muster, O.L.L.I smacks the creature in the temple. While the blow is a mere graze , the modron watches in abject fascination as the snake seems to split and undulate back into the composite form it so recently occupied. The yuan-ti groans heavily and flops into the rubble, seemingly unconscious.
Still stinging from the mouthless little barmy's armor spikes, Thorn clenches his teeth as he staggers after him. The faint whispers of Aym in his mind gain frenzied intensity, the bariaur's tongue feels much too large for his mouth. He follows the fleeing man...
...How did my legs take me here without my remembering?...
...and lunges for him with the long handle of his sickle. The nimble human (?) sidesteps Thorn's clumsy assault even as it becomes apparent to Thorn that there is a serpentman right next him, as well as an ugly, scarred berk in a white fur. Thorn's subdual attack vs. Rennet; -4 penalty for subdual w/heavy sickle (1d20=5, 1d8+2=4)
A quick glance reveals to Deris that what she seeks is not in the reeking knot of corpses behind the bar, which is growing very crowded. Carefully stepping around the combatants, the invisible elf opts to follow the dashing young Aasimar up to the second floor.
Second Floor of the Stygian Eel:
Kkkurrshkkk......gggrrrrggglllegrrggle....
Your boots crunch slightly on the debris that still litters the floor as you carefully approach the sole source of light, being very careful to remain hidden. You can see a gutted hallway stretching out before you. The walls to either side gape with huge holes, the openings jagged at the edges. Plaster litters the floor. Your eyes are drawn to a man strung upside-down on a wooden frame, spread eagle. His bare chest is criss-crossed with stitched together incisions. His eyes, nose, mouth and throat are similarly dressed. A candle sits directly in front of his head, there on the floor where a space has been cleared. In the flickering light, his features look almost alive, though even from your vantage point you can tell that such should be impossible.
You almost start forward, if just to get a better look, when something brushes your face very gently. You step back, your caution overtaking the impulse to bat the thing aside. Narrowing your eyes, you can see a few points in the air that catch the light of the candle. You trace them in your mind and realize....
Yards and yards of string are stretched throughout the hallway like a spiderweb, each connected to the dead man's stitches in some way. The strands weave from the intersection throughout the gutted chambers to the left and right. Closer now, you can hear...
Kkkurrshkkk......gggrrrrggglllegrrggle....
Second Floor
He pauses when he sees the upside-down man Poor bastard. What happened to you? he wonders taking a cautious step forward and kneeling in front of the corpse to get a better look. When he feels the fine thread brush across his face, he backs away a little, gripping the hilt of his rapier. That package had better be damned important. he thinks, examining the area around the makeshift web, looking for any obvious traps or nasty creatures. All the while he goes over the street-talk, rumor, and legend he's heard, trying to figure out what might be lurking just around the corner.
Modrons are not known for their nimble maneuverability and O.L.L.I notes that, in this case, the stereotype is 97.6% accurate. What is this feeling, as if a rotor gear in his mind is caught and stuttering? Is this what the Cagers call "frustration"? O.L.L.I does not find it to his liking, he decides, as he clanks and clatters through the rubble, chasing a shapechanging serpent. After backing the tricky creature into a corner, the modron pauses momentarily to calculate probabilities.
Calculating.
Calculating.
Calculation's complete. The modron swings his fun-sized warhammer at precisely the spot where the snake's head emerges! Connecting with as much force as his thin arm can muster, O.L.L.I smacks the creature in the temple. While the blow is a mere graze 2 damage, the modron watches in abject fascination as the snake seems to split and undulate back into the composite form it so recently occupied. The yuan-ti groans heavily and flops into the rubble, seemingly unconscious. crit; "What's Going On?"- Double damage and 1d4 hours of target's memory erased. Patrick, you may do the honors.
At the sight of his successful blow to the snake creature, O.L.L.I. feels a flash of unfamilliar emotion run through his frame like a splash of Clockwork Oil after a work period in a sandy environment. Is this perhaps the feeling of 'satisfaction'? Perhaps it is another more feral feeling like 'vengance'. No matter, O.L.L.I. readies Spanner for another blow should the snake being move. He calculates that if he can keep the snake thing incapacitated he might be able to extract information from it later.
Thorn jerks his horned head rapidly, as if trying to avoid an annoying fly. Shut it! he mentally growls at the internal monologue that doesn’t belong to him.
Well, now the madman had gone and got himself involved in another fight. Through the fog in his mind, Thorn was having trouble figuring out who was fighting who and why, who, if anyone was on his side … and even what he was supposed to be doing, besides dragging this balmy off to the Gatehouse. He didn’t much fancy getting involved in the fight between that – the snakeman – and that - the hairy, brutish one – though.
The bariaur backs up a pace, trying to figure out exactly why he thought this one was mad and why it is so important he gets him to the Gatehouse. Then he shrugs. He’ll wait and see that happens here, then figure it out.
Kev:
You wrack your brain for rumors and hearsay in the Cage. You ARE near the Lower Ward; it could be some sort of fiend, perhaps sleeping? Hivers tell tales of a creature known as The Kadyx which was unleashed during an ill-fated invasion by demonkind. It supposedly has a morose sense of humor, but you also recall that it was supposed to haunt The Slags, further into the Hive.
Reghar screams his rage and stabs with his spear.
Atk; Dmg (1d20+7=23, 1d6+6=12)
"The strong live and the weak die!"
Modrons are not known for their nimble maneuverability and O.L.L.I notes that, in this case, the stereotype is 97.6% accurate. What is this feeling, as if a rotor gear in his mind is caught and stuttering? Is this what the Cagers call "frustration"? O.L.L.I does not find it to his liking, he decides, as he clanks and clatters through the rubble, chasing a shapechanging serpent. After backing the tricky creature into a corner, the modron pauses momentarily to calculate probabilities.
Calculating.
Calculating.
Calculation's complete. The modron swings his fun-sized warhammer at precisely the spot where the snake's head emerges! Connecting with as much force as his thin arm can muster, O.L.L.I smacks the creature in the temple. While the blow is a mere graze 2 damage, the modron watches in abject fascination as the snake seems to split and undulate back into the composite form it so recently occupied. The yuan-ti groans heavily and flops into the rubble, seemingly unconscious. crit; "What's Going On?"- Double damage and 1d4 hours of target's memory erased. Patrick, you may do the honors.
At the sight of his successful blow to the snake creature, O.L.L.I. feels a flash of unfamilliar emotion run through his frame like a splash of Clockwork Oil after a work period in a sandy environment. Is this perhaps the feeling of 'satisfaction'? Perhaps it is another more feral feeling like 'vengance'. No matter, O.L.L.I. readies Spanner for another blow should the snake being move. He calculates that if he can keep the snake thing incapacitated he might be able to extract information from it later.
Unsure about the implications of getting between the large man and his quarry, Rennet attempts instead to distract the shadowy yaun-ti with a sham strike, while keeping a wary eye on the man-ram, who appears to be holding his distance for the moment.
Fumbling awkwardly with his rope, O.L.L.I attempts to bind the unconcious yuan-ti.
O.L.L.I wraps the rope as best he can around his unconcious foe
Yuan-Ti-1 on 23
Reghar 21 (attacking with spear)
Rennet 16 (feinting Yuan-Ti 1)
Yuan-Ti-2 unconscious
Kev (second floor, action?) 13
O.L.L.I (ties up Yuan-Ti 2) 13
Thorn (withdraw from melee, delay) 8
Deris (second floor, invisible, action?) 3
O.L.L.I reaches into his backpack and retreives his Mercykiller Masterwork Manacles . He slaps the wicked-looking chains on the ugly humanoid.
Deris stepped in time with the human, careful to keep her weight evenly spaced across the warped floor. The gurgle was disquieting and she kept her wits about her. Spot=12,Listen=17
Barely able to see passed the man's shoulder Deris peeks over his shoulder, holding her breath and staying very very still.
...
He smells nice. Deris smirks.
The man with the serpent head weaves a web of steel, deflecting Reghar's and Rennet's attacks while striking through the breaches in the half-orc's defense. Though the creature heavily favors his uninjured leg, Reghar finds himself breathing heavily as he wards his opponent off with his spear and shield.
Finally, it hisses,"Sssshut up! Just ssshut up and die already!!" An unexpected (and foolish) backhand slash finds Reghar's shoulder, adding to the blood matting his furs. But the strike leaves the ophidian menace off-balance; his second swipe goes wild and Reghar finds an opening. Full attack, 3 point combat expertise (1d20+7=22, 1d4+2=5, 1d20+2=3, 1d4+2=4)
Bellowing still, Reghar seizes the opportunity and impales the yuan-ti upon his shortspear. He can feel the shock of impact reverberate up his arm as the weapon penetrates leather armor, scaled flesh, bone and organs. The creature fixes the half-breed with a withering glare. Divesting itself of its weapons, it pulls the spear through its own chest, snapping at the druid until the malignance fades from its eyes.
Rennet tears his gaze from the spectacle to watch the bariaur, prepared to defend himself. But Thorn just stands back, his gaze flickering almost drunkenly from Rennet to Reghar to the corpse to the surrounding area.
O.L.L.I carefully leverages the fallen serpentman onto its face and pulls the heavy manacles from one of his many pouches. With a metal "click!" that the modron finds oddly comforting, the creature's hands are bound.