O.L.L.I's wand glows blue and touches Thorn. Immediately his thigh wound begins to knit together.
Reghar roars and attacks the nearest of the enemy.
Reghar: 23 (flame blade to the baboon in H16)
Kev: 22 (Attacking nearest baboon, retreat)
Lysanderis: 17 (upstairs, hiding,watching)
Thorn: 17 (stepping to E18 [AoO from longspear monkey] and attacking baboon)
Rennet: 16 (stowing scythe for sling, loading)
O.L.L.I.: 13 (CMW on Thorn)
Fiendish baboons: 19
The damp air in the hallway is swirling with frost; it almost burns as it makes contact with your skin, leaving rime on your flesh. Nonlethal Cold Damage to Reghar and Kev (3d6=13)
Snarling, Reghar makes a final thrust at the baboon with his searing brand, managing once more to penetrate its unnaturally thick flesh and deliver a mortal wound. The creature screams and thrashes on the floor, the smell of burning hair adding to the disgusting aroma of the Stygian Eel. Finally, it's agonized howls cease and it lays still. (Baboon in H16 is dead)
Kev jabs swiftly at the baboon on his flank, but the primate's leather helm deflects it. 1d20+2=13, 1d6=4 The aasimar somersaults away from the counter-attack Tumble= 1d20+7=17 to land beside the modron.
The shrieking monkey challenges the half-orc's Alpha Male status, hacking away with his hatchet Baboon hatchet attack: 1d20+3=16, 1d6+2=7 but Reghar's shield blocks the assault.
The tight quarters work against the baboon spearman as Thorn cuts aside his pike. Longspear at Thorn (1d20+3=9, 1d8+2=6) Meanwhile, in the hallway, the robe-clad monkey pulls out a dagger and throws it after the fleeing Aasimar, landing a solid blow to Kev's shoulder Thrown dagger: 1d20+3=20, 1d4+2=4
The monkey pikeman tries desperately to dislodge the advancing Thorn, but the bariaur knocks aside the thrust with his shield. The furious ram-man of Ysgard's heavy sickle leaves a bloody stump where the baboon's head used to rest. Rennet puts his scythe aside for the moment and pulls out a leather strap and a stone while O.L.L.I trots after Thorn with his healing arm waving.
Thorn spits at the headless corpse at his feet, black blood dripping from his blade, then turns his upper body to nod his thanks to O.L.L.I. “These berks better be guarding something good eh?” he says, his face twisted into a feral smile.
He looks about the chamber he is in, seeking a way around behind the webbing in the corridor outside.
Rennet winds up a little too fast and the sling bullet looses behind him, clattering downstairs.
Move equivalent, provokes an attack of opportunity from adjacent enemies.
Yes, this has come up before.
Reghar: 23 (flame blade to the baboon in i17)
Kev: 22 (Moves toward stairs, fires crossbow at baboon in g14)
Lysanderis: 17 (upstairs, hiding,watching)
Thorn: 17 (moving to around c14)
Rennet: 16 (sling attack, mooning)
O.L.L.I.: 13 (CLW on Reghar?)
Fiendish baboons: 19
Grim satisfaction on his beastial face, Reghar turns his fiery affections to the nearest baboon. Reghar melee touch w/flame blade (1d20+6=9, 1d8=1) But the fiendish monkey rolls aside, coming up with his hatchet in hand and murder in his primate eyes.
Kev retreats down the hall and, crouching behind the modron, lands a gut shot on the baboon at the end of the hall. Kev crossbow attack (1d20+4=20, 1d8=2) The creature howls and pulls a throwing axe from its oversized robe, throwing it at Kev. Baboon short bow vs. Kev (1d20+3=8, 1d6=6) The projectile ricochets off O.L.L.I's armor, leaving nothing more than a small scratch and a bloom of sparks.
Coming in on Reghar's wild thrust, the hatchet-wielding monkey hacks at the half-orc Hatchet baboon vs. Reghar (1d20+3=11, 1d6+2=5), who steps back just in time.
Thorn turns to his left and passes through a room about 15 feet by 15 feet, stacked with empty animal cages and broken crates. Glass and less wholesome things crack and squelch beneath his hooved feet as he makes his way toward the opposite end of the inn.
His enthusiasm getting the better of him, Rennet's sling stone goes wild. Sighing heavily, the man with the adamantine plate over his mouth turns his back to the monkeys, bends over and wags his derrier in the oldest and most universal gesture of provocation. Clanking down the hallway (fingering the new dent in his custom armor), O.L.L.I invokes the power of his wand on the wounded druid.
Next round (almost over, I swear).
O.l.L.I's wand glows blue and Redghar's wounds begin to knit shut
Flame Blade (melee touch) Atk; Dmg (1d20+6=13, 1d8=4)
Reghar roars once more and attacks a baboon.
Seeing one of his foes at the end of the corridor, Thorn lowers his horned head and charges towards it.
Reghar: 23 (flame blade to the baboon in i17)
Kev: 22 (fires crossbow at baboon in g14)
Lysanderis: 17 (upstairs, hiding,watching)
Thorn: 17 (charges monkey at g14)
Rennet: 16 (sling attack)
O.L.L.I.: 13 (delay for healing?)
Fiendish Baboons: 19
Roaring all the while, Reghar lashes out at the baboon, catching it across the back just as it tries to tuck and roll away. The tongue of flame doesn't seem to penetrate the beasts flame-proof hide, however. Kev curses loudly down the hall as his next bolt goes astray, almost hitting Reghar Kev crossbow attack vs. baboon (1d20+4=6, 1d8=6).
Throwing aside the axe and gnashing its enormous teeth, the baboon opposite Reghar lunges for the burly half-orc's throat 1d20+3=12, 1d6+2=5 only to be shrugged aside with a snarl. Adjusting his aim, the robed baboon throws another projectile, this time at O.L.L.I 1d20+3=10, 1d6=5. Believe it or not, it's harder to hit a four foot square metal box on tiny legs than you would think and the dagger flies past Rennet, far off the mark.
The sagacious baboon has only a moment to realize his dilemma as the pounding of Thorn's hooves fill the hall. Stopping just short of crashing into the fiendish simian, the bariaur drops his head and rams the baboon in the neck, throwing its crumpled form into the ceiling. It falls the floorboards in a spray of blood, ribs and spine fractured. Thorn's neck kind of hurts from the effort.
Swinging the strip of leather over his head, Rennet lets loose a stone toward the baboon attacking Reghar, eliciting a yelp from the creature Damage for Rennet's sling (1d4+1=5)
O.L.L.I blinks (clink, clank) through the chaotic exchange, pondering trajectories and adjusting probability ratios.
O.L.L.I attempts to keep himself ready for any healing that needs doing. He also tries to stay out of the combatant's way after healing Reghar.
"Quit trying to kill me!" Reghar roars at the crossbowman (Kev), as he swings his flaming sword against the monkey.
I don't think Rennet could run to the corpse and throw it far enough in one round, unfortunately, so I went ahead with the ranged attack.
Okay, actions for Thorn (or any changes) for next round? The monkeys, you see, they grow impatient.
Okay, actions for Thorn (or any changes) for next round? The monkeys, you see, they grow impatient.
Thorn raises his head and cricks his neck, then pulls out a rag and begins wiping blood of his horns, looking down the passage with interest to see how his defacto companions are handling things.
Reghar: 23 (flame blade to the baboon in i17)
Kev: 22 (fires crossbow at baboon in i17)
Lysanderis: 17 (upstairs, hiding,watching)
Thorn: 17 (watching)
Rennet: 16 (sling attack)
O.L.L.I.: 13 (delay for healing)
Fiendish Baboon: 19
Reghar swings wildly, leaving a long scorch mark on the moldy wall but nothing on his opponent. The baboon hoots prepared to leap for the half-orc's neck, but it's cut short by "twang!" from down the hall, a crossbow bolt protruding from the creature's neck. Kev's crossbow attack (1d20+4=18, 1d8=8) Gurgling, the simian monster falls to the floor.
The air is frigid and hostile around Thorn and Reghar; frost coats your hair and eyelashes and the idea of frostbite suddenly occurs to you. Little flesh remains visible on the corpse that once hung in the hall, overtaken by brown mold.
Thorn steps hastily back from the area of cold. “I don’t know how we deal with that stuff, but I suggest we not get too close. There’s another way around to here through that room,” he points to the way he came.
“So there it is … snake people, demonic baboons, piles of corpses. It certainly seems as if a proxy of ol’ Two Face might have lived here, but where is he now then? Oh yes, well done all too.”
A sudden looks of greed swiftly passes over the bariaur’s face, and though it is swiftly hidden, he immediately bends awkwardly to pull the baboon corpse away from the area of cold and begins searching it’s ragged clothes for signs of wealth.
… gold … loot … spoils of war … whispers the voice in his head.
Thorn notes that the baboon's robe is sized for a human and has a hole or two in the back, stained with some blood. The garment is a cyan color, with a pattern at the hem. He recognizes in the pattern a recurring symbol of an eye in a pentagon. Within the robe the (reeking, sometimes scaly) baboon has a bandoleer with four sheathes for daggers. Of them, one is empty (the monkey having thrown it at the aasimar), two contain quality leaf-shaped daggers with pommels shaped to resemble skulls (masterwork daggers) and the last contains a rolled-up note. There's also a ten foot rod laying on the floor, rimed with frost.
The monkey also had a small flask at its hip; unscrewing the cap, the liquid inside smells faintly of peppermint.
Fingering the wound in his arm (or maybe just the tear in his duster) Kev grumbles,"What kind of barmy sod keeps a zoo in his kip?"
Thorn pockets the items, whilst looking at the rod on the floor.
That done, he heads back around through the room to meet up with the others. “As I said, monkeys and snakes make me think we’re in the right place. This berk Enoch’s starting to rattle me calm though … where is he? Help me search the rest of this lot,” he gestures to the baboon corpses strewn about, “for clues an’ such-like.”
However, he does not search himself, but instead re-opens his pack and takes a moment to study the items he just placed within. “What do you make of this?” he asks O.L.L.I., showing him the bottle, but stopping just short of actually handing it to the modron. With that question answered (or not), he unfurls the scroll, seeing if it’s in a language known to him.
Rennet retrieves his scattered weapons and torch, attempting to determine if he’s encountered anything like the mold before.
Knowledge Nature / Arcana / Dungeoneering (1d20+2=16, 1d20+2=3, 1d20+2=16)
Reghar starts collecting grisly trophies from the carcasses of the baboons.
Rennet retrieves his scattered weapons and torch, attempting to determine if he’s encountered anything like the mold before.
Knowledge Nature / Arcana / Dungeoneering (1d20+2=16, 1d20+2=3, 1d20+2=16)
Picking up his torch and his scythe, Rennet wracks his brain. His brain wracks back...
Suddenly, you're in a dank cavern, torch in hand. Ducking beneath the dripping stone, you step forward. A numb chill runs up your leg, seemingly oblivious to your thick boots and pants. Lowering your torch, you find the culprit is a big patch of brown mold (in the part of your mind in the present, you recognize it as what's down the hall, stuffed in the corpse that just exploded). If your teeth could chatter, they would running right out of your skull. When your torch dips, the mold starts to spread. It grows to twice its size in the time it takes you to step back and start getting feeling back in your legs....
Thorn pockets the items, whilst looking at the rod on the floor.
With that question answered (or not), he unfurls the scroll, seeing if it’s in a language known to him.
You unfurl the note; a small piece of parchment with charcoal writing in a scratchy, disjointed hand like a child's or someone using the wrong hand to write. In Planespeak, it says
"Ever kissed an adder? Mwah!"
A groan escapes Kev's lips and he slumps against the nearest wall. He's sweating a lot, clutching his wounded arm, though he is still conscious. The wound Thorn received from the spear wielding psycho-monkey throbs painfully and the bariaur starts to feel a little light-headed and queasy. When did it get hot in here? Even Reghar, hacking apart baboons for jaws, teeth, fingers and ears is starting to feel sick.
Thorn grits his teeth as he feels an itchy burning sensation in his foreleg. Glancing down, he notices that the newly healed flesh around the wound that O.L.L.I. repaired is looking red and raw. “Poison,” he spits. “Gah! Well, I ain’t going to fall down to no monkey-pox poison. How are you lot doing? Pretty boy doesn’t seem to be handling it well…” He glances again at the scroll, then throws it to the floor in disgust, as he steadies himself against a wall and takes a few deep breaths, fighting through the discomfort.
I’ll wave my arms around to attempt to get the other’s attention, then do the “brrrrr / shiver” routine while pointing at the moldy corpse.
Then I’ll point at the torch, then the corpse, then throw the torch on the ground and stomp on it .
"What's happening?!"
O.L.L.I rummages in his Healer's Kit
"Attention fellow adventurers. This unit has one vial of anti-toxin. This unit will administer it to the being who feels the worst. Please signify your current operational status by sign or sound."
Thorn and Reghar
Sweat beads your brow. You're short of breath, a ball of fiery agony in your stomach. You start shaking, bad. You're tempted to offer a brief prayer to any Power that could hear, but you grit your teeth against the next bout of shakes...
It's not as bad as the last. Your pulse is thumping, but regular. The next spasm is even further diminished. You have the feeling that spicy food is a bad idea in the near future, but your stomach is calm, if still cramped. It seems as if you've toughed out the poison, if not its symptoms.
Everyone
The one O.L.L.I and Thorn know as Kev and Reghar and Rennet just know as "the berk that went for the stairs rather than helping against the snakemen" has a serious case of the shakes, groaning like a damned soul. He rues his lot in life aloud for a moment.
"Pelor's buttery locks, does every courier have to go through this or is it just press ganged berks like me?!" He continues to curse a man named Autochon and Esao Enoch and the Planes themselves.
As salty as a sailor, that pretty boy. Always the quiet ones.
Looking up from his place on the floor he says,"Any of you bloods want to offer some medical suggestions, I'm all ears."
O.L.L.I, calculating that Kev is in the most serious need of assistance, administers the dose of anti-toxin.
If you drink antitoxin, you get a +5 alchemical bonus on Fortitude saving throws against poison for 1 hour.
O.L.L.I. removes a small vial from his Healer's Kit and fills a syringe with a bilious green fluid. Bending over Kev, he warns him.
"Attention co-adventurer Kev. This needle will hurt you, but the overall effect should be salubrious."
O.L.L.I jabs the needle into an exposed area of Kev's flesh and deploys the plunger.
It's not exactly a full recovery; in fact, it's quite likely the aasimar will be sick for a while, but O.L.L.I is 87.6% certain that he will survive, given the timely treatment the modron just administered.
O.L.L.I can detect wary gratitude in the young man's eye.
"Thanks, mate." he groans,"I think I'm out of this for the time being; I'll take my chances with my employer. Congratulations..."
He rummages through a belt pouch, finally producing a short iron rod with parchment tied around the middle portion with twine. He starts to rise, slowly, stopping halfway to let his wooziness pass. He hands O.L.L.I the rod.
"...you're Esao Enoch. My job is done."
"...you're Esao Enoch. My job is done."
O.L.L.I looks at the rod being proffered to him.
"This unit is not appelated 'Esao Enoch'. This unit's appelation is Oil Lube Initializer, often abbreviated by acquaintences to O.L.L.I. This unit's friend and fellow adventurer Thorn and he are also looking for clues to Esao's whereabouts."
Looking at the pile of monkey corpses.
"Judging from the state of this dwelling and the hostile reception that we have received, this unit would posit that we are not the only ones."
Kev rolls his eyes. Gently taking O.L.L.I by the wrist, he taps the metal hand with the baton.
"Not too good at taking hints, are we? I'll make it clearer.", he takes on a tone like explaining something to a child,"I'm supposed to give this to our absent friend; but I'm in bad shape. You're looking for him and I'm willing to bet you'll find him because modrons are, if anything....determined. So."
He pauses, gears turning in his mind. Finally, he speaks again.
"So. I'm supposed to deliver this to Esao Enoch. I can no longer make this delivery, on account that I must focus on staying alive and getting healthy. The former task is interfering with the latter; the latter takes precedent. With me? Your primary goal is finding Enoch, right? And since you're a walking representation of the...inexhaustible machinery of Order, you will find him. Therefore, delivering the message to you is as good as delivering it to Enoch. So it follows that once you take possession of this message, my task will be as complete as I can possibly make it at this time."
He holds the rod once more to your hand, waiting for you to take it.
"Does my reasoning hold up...sentient ally Oil Lube Initializer?", asks the sickly Aasimar.
O.L.L.I cogitates the sickly Aasimar's line of reasoning.
"This unit will continue to search for the allegeded proxy Esao Enoch, but the percentages in actually finding him are too chaotic to compute at the moment with any accuracy. This unit would bracket it with a success rate between 30 and 60%, judging from the state of his 'kip.' He will be difficult to locate, if he is not currently discarnated."
O.L.L.I looks at the prone courier
"However this unit will attempt to complete your mission within the best of his abilities as long as you will agree to an unspecified favor to be redeemed by this unit at some future point."
Kev kicks the idea around, a little surprised. He chuckles, winces, regrets it.
"Never thought I'd meet a modron that could bargain. All right, you're on. I'm not signing anything, though", he clarifies," 'specially not in blood (I think I need to hold onto mine). You'll have to do with a handshake or a verbal contract. Deal?"
He profers the rod again, picking himself up.
Everybody else
A quick look through the grisly leavings of the baboons after Reghar has taken his fill turns up:
-A breatplate and helm made of beaten brass. The breastplate is badly scratched and a hole has been punched through one side and out the other with dried blood down the back.
-Two pairs of leather armor (dyed grey and black, respectively). The grey suit is in decent shape, too large for the baboon wearing it. The other one has a few holes and cuts in it and must have been sized for a halfling, goblin or gnome.
-A chainmail hauberk (medium-sized) on the spear wielding baboon. It could use a bit of repair and you would want to find a new gambeson or some other padding, but it's in good shape.
-A longspear, several rusty hatchets, another skull-pommeled dagger (mwk) and a rusty machete.
-Various filthy boots, sashes, belts, pants, shirts, jerkins, etc. of various sizes.
They all smell like demon monkey butt. In fact, the whole floor does.
Kev kicks the idea around, a little surprised. He chuckles, winces, regrets it.
"Never thought I'd meet a modron that could bargain. All right, you're on. I'm not signing anything, though", he clarifies," 'specially not in blood (I think I need to hold onto mine). You'll have to do with a handshake or a verbal contract. Deal?"
O.L.L.I sticks out his spindly metal arm and shakes Kev's. He pockets the baton and message.
"Agreed, fellow adventurer Kev. This unit will trust in your veracity when agreeing to the favor. Have no fear, this unit will not require a favor that would be unbalanced in relation to the debt incurred. That would be unLawful."
O.L.L.I investigates the clothing and items the monkeys wore. He also examines their corpses, trying to ascertain anything odd about them (besides being fiendish monkeys and all)
“That’s all very touching,” Thorn drawls, “but if Pretty Boy can’t take the pace, that’s his issue; we still need to find Enoch. Let’s get moving … er, which way?”
Thorn takes the skull pomelled dagger, wiping it off on one of the baboons’ shirts (which probably does little to improve its cleanliness) and puts it into the sheath in the bandoleer he took from the other monkey.
He also grabs up the longspear, heads back around to the other section of corridor and tries to roll the rod out of the area of cold, waiting for it to thaw a little before examining it further.
All of the clothing and various odds and ends are predominantly human-sized. The baboons seem almost comical now that they aren't trying to kill you; dressed up like adventurers for some ridiculous reason. They're all torn or bloodstained in some way, beyond even what the five of you inflicted.
Poking through the mess, O.L.L.I finds a blood-smeared badge or symbol of office. It's made of iron, touched with a bit of red enamel in parts. A winged serpent snarling at the viewer. Turning it over, the phrase "JUSTICE IS PERFECTION" is etched into the back.
Thorn pokes and rolls the pole until it comes within easy reach. The temperature away from the mold is balmy enough to melt the frost in a matter of seconds to reveal a plain wooden pole, roughly ten feet long.
Kev staggers to the stairwell. He keeps the farewells short.
"You're all heart, Tax Man."
“Heh. Wonder if they stole this stuff from some poor sods … or they were at a time the poor sods…” Thorn looks at the pole, shrugs, then leaves it where it it. “There’s another way down here Olli,” he says, looking down the corridor with his darkvision.