Gran swings his glaive once more into the jelly.
"The Lady tells me to fight on. Fate has me dying at better "hands" than your's slime."
Gran wipes away the last of the acid and smiles.
Dyrnwyna leans heavily on her staff for a moment. Then she pulls herself together, whispers a quick incantation to shed the mud and water from her body, and looks around her. She starts poking through the assorted detritus on the island. "Comrades, when you are recovered, come and look! The monster's leavings are collected here. A shield, a vial of some kind, a cylindrical wooden storage device of some kind, perhaps for writings, and assorted coins."
Quinn looks quizzically at Drynwyna and smiles.
"Cylindrical storage device? Ye' mean a scroll case?" he says with some sarcasm.
"Well, it could be," Dyrnwyna responds defensively. "Or maybe not. It could be a pen case, or a container for incense, or a cover for a flute made out of solid astral diamonds. It would be illogical to assume it contains scrolls merely because it happens to resemble a scroll case. In any case, such speculation is pointless when the article itself lies before us, ready to be opened." With an ostentatious flick of her wrist, she conjures a mage hand to lift the tube to her own hand. She gives Quinn a significant glance, as if to make sure that he doesn't miss this unsubtle reminder of her arcane skills, then opens the tube.
"Quinn mind giving me a hand with these burns and cuts. How would think something you normally see eaten at a banquet would hurt so much."
Quinn smiles and puts a hand up apologetically. "Just havin' a little fun elfling."
To Gran:
"Of course, lad, I'm comin'."
Quinn limps over to Gran and begins dressing his wounds. Pouring a little dwarven "holy water" over the wounds to disinfect them before applying a dressing.
Quinn himself isn't looking very good either, with parts of his beard looking rather dissolved and disheveled and his breathing growing a bit heavier.
Current HP: 23/41
On Gran's request, Quinn nods and says a prayer to Moradin, clutching his holy symbol as he does so.
Healing Word; Spend a healing surge and 1d6+4=6 extra hit points
|
Dyrnwyna plucks three sheets of vellum from the tube.
Another contains the message: “Remember, don’t wet the nodule—unless Kalarel is not receptive to the offer. Then, wet it only from a distance, and then, turn and run. Water will bring the creature out of its dormancy, and it will consume anything it can reach.”
The last vellum sheet holds a letter written in the same hand as the previous message. “Greetings, Kalarel. I have recently learned of your activity in the area and have an offer for you. During your time in this region, if you should capture any humanoids, we are eager to buy them. We have duergar allies in Thunderspire in need of slave stock. If you are interested, send an envoy back to me. My messengers will show the way.” It is signed: “Chief Krand of the Bloodreavers.”
"Thanks" he rubs the still stinging areas.
"So what's our next move"
Quinn calls upon his deity once more to help Rhianis in his healing.
Spend a surge plus 1d6+4=5 more hit points.
"I'll be needed a bit more rest 'afore I can do that again. Just gimme' some time to breath," says Quinn as he plops himself down on the ground inside the hallway and closes his eyes for a bit.
"Ha! It wasn't scrolls!" gloats Dyrnwyna, leafing through the documents from the tube. "Very curious, though... Listen to this."
She relates the contents of the tube's documents. "Have any of you heard of this Kalarel, or Chief Krand? And is there anything around here resembling a nodule? Perhaps this was the creature mentioned in the message."
"Aye. Marla mentioned that this Kalarel was the leader of a death cult in these parts when we were back in Winterhaven. Looks like we definitely stumbled into the right place."
Looking entirely healed, Rhianis bows before Quinn.
"My thanks, good friend."
Frivry will spend 3 healing surges and ask Quinn to help him.
After Quinn has rested for awhile, assuming the party has remained uninterrupted, Quinn prays over Frivry, helping to assuage the pain of the halfing's wounds.
Add another 1d6+4=8 hit points onto those surges.
"Anyone else?"
"Probably a little early to be goin' to sleep. We should either head back to Winterhaven to recuperate or finish explorin' this level and then find someplace safe to hide. As long as we avoid any more large fights we should be okay."
"Ah, but if you noticed, the large fights choose us, not the other way around."
Gran chuckles a bit at Rhianis' comment.
"He's right Quinn. I'ts not like we're looking for the path of most resistance..." he pauses a moment "Ok, maybe a little"
Dyrnwyna reads the messages again, then sighs and carefully rolls them back into the tube, which she secures in her pack. "I suppose we should look through the rest of this," she says, and begins the process of ferrying the treasure across to the dry side. She uses mage hand where possible. The heavier items, such as the shield, she arranges into a bundle to be carried. Lastly, she collects the coins, counting them carefully. When she finishes, she picks up the bundle with a grunt and teleports back across the muck with fey step.
"I would welcome a brief return to civilization. Prestidigitation is wonderful, of course, but I feel the need for a proper bath with hot water."
"Well Gran, looks like more treasure for you. Think you can get some use out of that shield?"
Dyrnwyna kicks a clod of unidentifiable filth into the pond. "How come none of the failed adventurers before us have been wizards?" she demands crossly. "I know the arcane arts are inherently superior to mere bodily mayhem, but there are plenty of incompetent wizards in the world. Surely some of them could have conveniently died in this disgusting place, and left me their treasure?"
"It does seem that way" he says as he inspects the shield.
Looking up from the shield, "So where should we head next?"
"It does seem that way" he says as he inspects the shield.
Looking up from the shield, "So where should we head next?"
"I'm curious as to what those double doors beside the torture chamber hold."
"I'm curious about 'em too. There must be another level or series of chambers around here somewhere. Where else would all these gods damn gobos be comin' from? It's probably best to check out the rest o' this cavern first, though."
Quinn stands up with a proper dwarven groan. There's a lot of popping and Quinn stumbles for a second.
"I, uh, think I may need to sit back with Drynwyna this time, though."
Gran sighs "Pains me to say this but I think retreat is best. We can fall back and reorganize and resupply. My only worry is that we give the enemy the same chance."
"Gah, almost forgot how bright that can be. Everyone keep your eyes open. We don't want any kobolds sneaking up on us."
Quinn squints and rubs his eyes against the light. His dwarven eyes take a little more time to adjust than the human's. He then scans around once for signs of returning goblins or Splug.
"There was no helpin' it I suppose. We did good over the last couple of days. Lets just hope we hurt Kalarel enough so that it won't be impossible to get back in. I'm thinkin' that place is a lot bigger than we saw and there's no tellin' what kind of reinforcements we'll have to face when we return."
"Yes, they will likely bring in more monstrous vermin soon. So perhaps when we return to town we should call for reinforcements as well."
"Hmmmmm...perhaps," says Quinn doubtfully. "But we'll be crossin' that bridge when we get to it. Let's be off. We're too vulnerable sittin' here out in the open."
"We should be returning at the town. It will be more secure than out there."
"Two choices. We either return to town and make our way back tomorrow. Or we find a place to make camp nearby."
"Perhaps it is safer to camp a fair distance away. A night journey would be incredibly risky."
"Campin' will do, aye, but we'll need to avoid usin' a fire tonight and pick someplace that's well hidden."