Galad joins the others next to the door as the spirit drifts up to the with and gleefully slashes at her, to the extant that the shade of a deva can look gleeful.
Dannad
Galad (spirit cursed) POSTED
Mother Zeb'oltha (bloodied, prone, 10 ongoing se, OoE Target, marked)
Vandis (dominated end Zeb'oltha)
Hawkseer (bloodied, cursed)
Dagobert (5 ongoing se)
Dannad braves the flailing tendrils, take a few minor burns for his troubles, and take advantage of Zeb'oltha's current vulnerability. With cruel precision, he slices open the witch's throat, ending her vile existence.
I'm also giving a 500XP story reward for killing the infamous Witch of Punjar.
New Individual Totals = 1075 XP; Welcome to Level 2!
Galad serenely strides into the room as the spirit dissolves back into the aether. "So, the witch has been slain." He then silently begins to search through the witch's belongings, the sense of deja vu that he had since he first entered this city buzzing in the back of his head.
Dagobert eventually manages to staunch his own violent nosebleed and takes a moment to restore himself. Breathing hard, he ventures into the room and has a look around.
"I can see why Arthuro never took to her. Very unhealthful."
The party takes refuge inside the witch's lair from the drizzling rain outside. The smell in the smoky room is unpleasant and the copious amounts of blood on the walls has left a metallic taste upon the air.
"He wasn't the smartest person I've ever met, but he had the makings of a decent rat-catcher in him."
Dagobert looks a bit sick.
"Anyone mind if we collect that on the way out and take it back for burying? Floating in a jar isn't fitting to my way of thinking."
Curious, Galad turns one of the jars to face him.
Dagobert looks with disgust at the remains of the witch.
Hawkseer looks about the room, sharing Dagobert's expression of disgust. "Well done, Dannad. This one needed death for what she was doing to Smoke."
The large jar Galad reaches for is a curious thing, with one half being blacked out and the other half still being clear. Turning it away from the wall reveals a perfectly fresh looking reptilian eyeball that seems to follow you as you move around the room. The eye is quite large, and would take two hands to hold steadily.
Dagobert spends his time investigating Zeb'oltha's possessions.
The rod, however, is of particular interest, and simply touching it seems to make your skin crawl. It is topped with a demonic ram's head and seems to be made mostly of iron. What you hold is an extremely rare Skull Rod that has made it's way out of the pits somehow and into Zeb'oltha's possession. It allows an infernal warlock to regain the use of an encounter power once a day. Doing so expends a charge from the rod, which currently has 12 charges remaining.
Dagobert considers the armour and glares at the rod.
"That's a nasty object. Can't say I approve really. Some very unpleasant processes went into the making of that."
Hawkseer looks at the eye in the jar warily and hefts his dagger. "Destroy this?"
"Feel free." Galad, satisfied that there is little of worth in this room, keeps watch at the door.
Dannad gives everything in the room an appraising, if somewhat disgusted, eye.
"She got 'n our way, an was all pallsey with the Beggar King...."
The halfling shudders at the condition of the room.
"One what needed killin's just a bonus."
"The sooner we're out of here the better. This is not a healthful place to my way of thinking."
Hawkseer opens the jar with the eye with the intent of plunging his dagger into it.
Hawkseer opens the jar and it seems to stare up and glare at him with malice once his intentions are clear.
As he stabs his dagger down into the thing, inky blood disperses and fills the jar. The eye continues to stare, though now it looks wracked with pain. Over a dozen stabs of the dagger are required until the thing appears lifeless and dead.
Hawkseer looks at his pitted dagger. "Unpleasant, but at least I feel better. Let's move on."
Dannad scratches his head as he finishes looking about.
"Let's leave this rubbish for someone else to clean through. Looks like we've got the most important bits already anyways."
The halfling tilts his head back toward the entrance.
"Wonder if there's anything else where those beggars were scramblin' from? Might be more illuminating circumstances there."
"That's using the old noggin. Speaking of which . . ."
With a last disgusted and regretful look at Arthuro's head, Dagobert bows slightly to the remains.
"I'm sorry we'll never get the chance to talk about rodents, but I will make sure you're buried properly."
He heads down the stairs after Dannad.
The party makes their way back through the soggy courtyard and into the warehouse.
Scattered piles of moldy hay litter the warehouse floor. The walls and ceiling are charred black with soot from some past fire. Streams of water drip from holes in the ceiling, pooling in cold puddles on the muddy floor. A ladder stands in one corner of the chamber, rising to a loft.
The warehouse is mostly filled with bits and ends that could be the throwaways from Arthuro's collection. Spears, swords, and other armaments make up the bulk of the goods.
Looking up at the ladder to the loft, the halfling's face drains of what little emotion it had left.
"Blighted fool of an architect what designed this place is lucky to be long dead, otherwise I'd pay him that favour..." he mutters under his breath. "Feel like we're in a maze for some ferret or monkey with all this up an' down, up an' down nonsense."
Scanning the room carefully, he proceeds to the base of the ladder.
"I'm supposing you'd like me to take a peak first, eh?"
"I'm supposing you'd like me to take a peak first, eh?"
"That seems like a good idea. Like many nests, the structure has probably evolved. I doubt this has been planned in any intentional way, you know. Humans and rats are much the same in many ways. There are parallels to be drawn."
Dagobert pontificates to take his mind of Arthuro's horrible fate. He rustles through the supplies, extracting anything still edible.
"Waste not, want not."
Vandis growls, "No-one asked your opinion, dwarf."
"Nobody ever does." Dagobert remains serene.
Dannad slings off his small backpack and pulls out a folded up piece of dark mottled fabric. As he spreads it out, he picks a pair of gloves and what looks like wrappings for his boots out of the fabric. After wrapping his boots, he pulls the larger fabric over his head like a poncho. Clenching a belt around it, he stretches to make sure he can still move freely before pulling on his gloves, settling his pack back on his back, and mounting the stairs.
Dagobert hovers at the bottom of the stairs, listening hard.
Dannad does not detect any obvious traps as he scales the ladder. After about 5 minutes of careful scaling, he reaches the top and the door, which can be pushed in but is currently locked.
Dagobert keeps a close eye on the loft and the surroundings as Dannad makes his careful ascend, but he spots nothing amiss at the moment.
Dannad carefully examines the door, looking for some way to open it from the outside.
Since the loft door pushes in (so one doesn't smack themselves in the head while standing on the ladder), there are no hinges or mechanisms to get at from this side. The lock itself appears to be a simple key lock.
Dannad reaches down to his belt and pulls out his kit of thieves' tools, which he unrolls on the top rung of the ladder. Eying the lock, he selects a few tools and sets to work.
Dannad's mastery shows itself once again as he expertly pops the lock in about 5 minutes with barely an audible sound as the last tumbler falls into place.
Vandis grunts appreciatively.
"What a useful skill." Dagobert is admiring in the way that only the truly clumsy can be.
After putting his tools away, he motions over his shoulder for the group to follow as he silently opens the door and slips inside.