For A Few Potions More
Log Info
- Title: For A Few Potions More
- GM: Telamon
- Place: Sewers of Alexandria
University District sewer access, midday
It's a bright summer day! Just in time to... go into the sewers. Which will be positively unpleasant.
The guild contact for this mission is a somewhat long-faced magician in well-made robes who introduces himself as Scanthrus Turow, a proctor for the Shining Chalice. "I do a bit of work here and there for the city, and when someone noted potions popping up in the marketplace without the usual 'maker's marks', people got interested." The sorcerer holds up an empty vial, noticeably bereft of any stamps or embossing. "We did some divinations, and it looks like they're coming in under the University District. Which is... kind of interesting, as I don't think there's any way to get out of the city through there."
"However, we did have a bit of luck. The otyughs mentioned seeing some two legs setting up some kind of workshop in one of the abandoned areas. Now, while I'm all for cottage industry, they really do need to at least identify their elixirs. So if you can bring them back alive, and deliver a report on their activities, that'd be great."
Warrick, with his helmet in hand, is eyeing the entrance to the sewers. A sigh escapes him, a rag being doused in a bottle gives off a sharp mint scent as he begins to stuff it inside the armet helm. "That is right odd. Even the local brewers usually have some way to know whose who's," he grunts. "Least the Yughs came through. Last time I dealt with nefarious alchemical concoctions, it wasn't... pleasant." He shudders.
Double checking his armaments and armor, he throws out towards Scantrhus, "Any kind of potions in particular that have been the focus? Healing kinds, transformative..." he rolls a hand, gauntlet clinking with the movement.
The Goblin's expression is a sour one, for after learning of their intended destination, she glances down at her freshly cleaned red gi. And her (wooden) sandal'd feet. "What is the point of the mark, though? If someone wants to be dishonest, the obligation of a maker's mark is ... not a difficult thing to surmount. And legit or not, desperate people will drink anything. I mean, I'm no expert, but there are a lot of silly people out there. Love potions. Snake oil. Voodoo dolls. These things still exist, because people will fall for it."
Choler sighs and rubs at her forehead, nodding at Warrick's questions. "This information would be helpful, I think."
While Zeke's been protective of Cuemoni since her recent brush with death, the fire druid has managed to find a day where her Cihuaa is occupied with Temple work and she is free to do something productive to give back to the community. She gives a small rumble of thought, the makari woman dressed in her usual protective gear and charms.
"If there is use of love potions, this one would be happy to put an end to the production." The turquoise-scale puts her golden eyes on the proctor. "Alive. Understood. May you answer..." She looks over at Warrick. "That one's questions? This one apologizes; this one does not know your name."
A small ferret climbs out of Turow's pack, and chitters to him. "Yes, Hanu, I heard, I'm getting to that." Absently, Turow hands the empty vial to his familiar, who begins inspecting it with interest. "We're seeing a lot of low-level potions -- minor curative, first-circle effects. Nothing powerful. But we also noticed the potions are mildly contaminated. Not enough to be dangerous, but it suggests they're not cleaning their equipment properly -- that's very important or impurities build up in your glassware. It also makes the potions less effective -- beneficial effects don't last as long, curative potions don't heal as much, you get the idea."
"So they ARE potions, but they're just... bargain basement potions." Turow looks to Choler. "To answer that question: the punishment for not adding a maker's mark is actually pretty mild. Counterfeiting one, on the other hand, draws a pretty hefty response. I think a number of the major craft businesses -- smiths, glassblowers, and so on -- pushed for it early on in the city history to keep that sort of thing at bay."
"Those would fall under placebo and is protected by the trade guilds," Warrick rattles off to Choler as he tightens up his weapon belt. "Regrettably."
He looks over at the makari, eyeing her up and down. In assessment, or something another. "Warrick Retzner, at your service," he grunts. "Peace on your nest... ma'am." Oh. That's what he was trying to figure out. Softskins.
The once-guard makes a face. "... it's in a sewer. It's going to get contami-" He pinches his brow, shakes his head, and slides his helmet on. "Right. Understood. Capable of minor magics. Bring them back alive." He loosens the strap to his sap. Even though he's reaching for his large crossbow.
"But what sort of punishment? I mean, just putting out shoddy potions ought to be punished, especially if it's not the potion as advertised." The Goblin strikes a little pose, putting her hands on her hips. She looks between Turow and Warrick, and huffs. "The maker's mark just seems... superfluous." Choler shrugs.
"So... they have to be alive. At least... one of them has to be alive. Can they be.. bruised a little?"
The Goblin cracks her knuckles.
Cuemoni's nostrils flare a little at the mention of contaminated potions. "Ay. The people making potions for the people, but they're making poisons for the people instead. Poor little things. This one hopes no children have been ingesting them. The mothers, they may be trying to heal their sick children with them."
That seems to do it for Cuemoni, because she huffs. "This one is Cuemoni, a Shaman of the Xiuhcoatl tribe," she tells Warrick, confidently and firmly. "This one specializes in fire magic, entreating the spirits, and some healing. This one can heal any grievous injury done." She pauses before she says, "This one is ready to depart."
"There's also the question of where they're coming from. Hence the question of smuggling -- are they coming in from outside? Is there a passageway out of the city we don't know about?" Turow sighs. "In any case, the usual guild rules apply; if they draw blades on you, then you can respond in kind. But please honor any surrenders, and don't dump the bodies in the sewers."
He pauses. "Especially as the otyughs might eat them. And that's always inconvenient to explain." Hanu the ferret chitters again, and Turow gives him an exasperated look. "Yes, Hanu, I know otyughs have to eat too, but there's all that paperwork. Even if they were 'bad men'."
Turow takes a key out to unlock the sewer access. "Do be careful down there. That last rainfall helped clear out some of the stink, but it's still going to be unpleasant."
"Pleasure to meet you Shaman Cuemoni," Warrick bows his head towards the makari shaman. "Just take caution with fire in the sewers. It can get... explosive."
He shrugs at Choler, either unsure of how to respond or just leaving it there. "Worry not, Sir Turow, I'm trained in de-escalation. We'll get to the bottom of this. I'd want as little paperwork as possible as well."
He sighs, the visor on his helmet closing with a clonk. "... yeah, I'm well aware. Always hated going down here. Anywho..." He lets go of a small orb that sheds a soft white light, and remains hovering near his head. "... I can take point."
Choler bends at the waist, offering a bow to Cusmoni and Warrick. "I'm Choler. I will do my best here." Her nose wrinkles at the mention of how unpleasant it will be. "Uhm, there is numerous ways into the sewers. If I were to guess, they have probably found a means to circumvent the grate or door to an entrance that is out of sight. If you're brave, or silly, enough and have an idea of what you're doing, and you time it right, you can probably get into the sewers without anyone being the wiser. Even this entrance here."
She punches her hand. "I'm ready to go."
"This one does not kill those who surrender," Cuemoni says with a little huff, then she nods to Warrick. "This one will be careful with flame. There is no desire to hurt or injure allies."
She hums softly as she makes to walk behind Warrick. "This one is grateful for the volunteering of walking first," she says to the guardsman. Former... guardsman. Guards-y man. "This one has no desire to know death again so soon."
And she offers zero elaboration on that for the moment.
GAME: Cuemoni rolls Perception: (4)+8: 12 GAME: Warrick rolls perception: (16)+6: 22 GAME: Choler rolls perception: (3)+3: 6
Traveling the sewers, they are... fragrant. Unpleasantly so. But you've got a job to do and at least you're getting paid for it. The last rainfall does seem to have scrubbed away the worst of the detritus. It appears the area you're in is definitely under the University, as one pipe releases an outflow of something bright green into a waiting cistern. Ew.
As you follow the directions to a pair of double doors marked instructively with 'ACCESS U-52', Warrick hears something beyond...
Warrick walks with a large crossbow out, the weapon so large he needs his whole body and a strap to carry it. He holds its forward and loaded, with a hand on the winding crank, slowly walking, pointing it around corners as they go. He was quite glad he jammed his helmet full of mint oil. "Used to it," he mutters over his shoulder to Cuemoni. "Better for me to kick in the door and let others run in. How I used to do it-"
He stops suddenly, holding up a fist. Helmet cocks one way, grunts at the sight of the green fluid, then another way. Pointing forward. "Contact," he whispers back to the two. "Behind the door, multiple voices, conversing. Stay quiet, maybe we can listen in before breaking the door down. Can anyone pick locks?" he asks off handedly before slowly approaching, keeping an ear out.
With her nose wrinkled and covered by a sleeve'd arm, the Goblin sighs. "At least it's... mostly clean on the ground" The green ... glop is stared at. "There's... a whole... icky container full of that gunk. Do the ... ughs drink that, I wonder." There's a muffled retching noise. She goes still when he holds a hand up.
"Uh... I can punch the door.", she whispers.
Cuemoni stares at the door. "This one does not know how to pick locks," she says. "This one is beginning to wish this one knew how to make acid."
But then she gives her other two allies a nice toothy sith-makar grin. "This would would be happy to help with forcing the door." She is pretty big. It might work. Might.
GAME: Warrick rolls strength: (16)+2: 18 GAME: Cuemoni rolls strength: (15)+2: 17 GAME: Choler rolls strength: (12)+1: 13
The three of you gather around the door, fitting the crowbar in. What happens next is interesting, as the three of you brace yourselves just so. The pop of the lock giving way is lost in a funny rushing sound that comes from beyond the doors, and a cheer.
"Is it workin'?" comes a rough voice. The response is a bit hard to make out, but you think it's a 'yes'. Then a weird gurgling sound crossed with a noise like you'd imagine a golem sneezing.
But the door is open...
Warrick stifles a grunt and pant as the crowbar does the work. "Do it with intent," he mutters to himself. The cheering sound behind gets his attention, him quietly putting the crowbar down on the floor and pulling his crossbow to the fore. "I'm going to force it. On three..." One finger raises. Another...
A boot slams into the door, sending it open as he holds the weapon up. "Freeze!" he barks. "Hands up, mouths shut, fingers still!"
GAME: Choler rolls acrobatics: (17)+11: 28
Cuemoni draws her scimitar, readying for action as Warrick forces the conflict. She seems to rather like this method of grabbing everyone's attention. "No sudden moves, no magic!" she calls, barking out orders like she's done this all her life.
Her tail's wagging behind her. This is exciting! Even if they are in an underground sewer that's disgusting to the senses!
Her ears perk up at the sounds of success, and the .. gurgling sound. Her expression grows puzzled, and she rubs at the back of her head.
When informed of Warrick's intent, she gestures to do the door, obviously welcoming Warrick to have at.
As the door swings open, Choler takes a little running start and rolls into the room, heading to the right. The Goblin comes up to take a pose, her fists at the ready, her eyes scanning the room.
The large chamber beyond evidently functions as a service passage for one of the major outlets from the University. Specifically, the alchemical labs. A large channel, ten feet wide and fifteen deep, runs the length of the room, with a bridge constructed over it.
Sitting next to the canal is a curious construction, looking like someone mashed a still into an alchemy set. Three large hoses have been stuck into the water, and impressively enough, the bizarre multicolored sheen seen upstream from the machine is absent as the current passes the device. It chugs, gurgles, and wheezes, as whatever fluids are being drawn from the water are extracted and distilled into bottles clamped to the machine.
A trio of rough-looking individuals are caught off guard, staring at you in shock. A big, brutal looking half orc, with two other human thugs carrying polearms -- the oruch and one of his cronies by a large open crate, while the other thug stands next to the machine. At the machine's controls is a weedy-looking fellow dressed in slightly stained wizard robes -- but his fingers are decorated with multiple rings and there's an outlandish decorative chain necklace worn around his neck. For some reason, he's also wearing those odd spectacles common among mul'niessa, though he's clearly a human.
One of the thugs comes running over the bridge. "Piss off!" he yells. "This is our score, you don't get to mess with us!" He glances back at the wizard. "Don't stop running the thing, you know how finicky it is!" The thug holds up his polearm, pointing it at the heroes in an obvious threat display.
GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (7)+6: 13
The Goblin heads right at the biggest target, the axe-wielding Oruch! Moving to his side, and using the large crate to protect her from potentially unseen targets at the back of the room, she yells at the top of her lungs.
"HHHHYAAAAAAAAH!"
Her impressive (looking) punch connected with her opponents knee, and there's a cracking sound. Choler winces in pain, shaking her hand and blowing on it. "Tssssss-aaaah..."
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13
The half-orc leader sneers down at the gobber monk. "Little 'uns need to stay home or they get hurt!" As he leans away from the blow, he sweeps out a heavy greataxe, and whirls it before swinging hard at Choler... and the blow whiffs. Instead, it staves in the side of the crate, revealing a number of vials. Vials filled with strange, multicolored fluid.
GAME: Warrick rolls ranged-4: (20)+8+-4: 24 (THREAT) GAME: Warrick used a Flash Powder. GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+1: (16)+1: 17 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+3: (5)+3: 8 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+3: (1)+3: 4 (EPIC FAIL)
Warrick quickly scans the room, the crossbow waving over everyone before he rushes quickly into the room with the others, clanking all the while. "Drop your weapons!" he shouts.
Seeing as tensions rise, he shakes his head. "There is no score! Drop- Serriel damn it!"
With a practiced motion, Warrick steps forward and rips off a package on his hip. He pauses. Staring at the box. "Shit! Get away from that box!" he shouts.
Then smashes the package against his helmet. "Flash!" he barks, chucking the package underhand past the henchmen. It cracks against the ground, exploding in a brilliant flash of light! <Merctalk>
GAME: Cuemoni rolls ranged+1: (9)+3+1: 13 GAME: Cuemoni rolls 1d6+2: (3)+2: 5 GAME: Cuemoni spends ONE use of FIRE BOLT.
Cuemoni is not as inclined as others (namely, Choler) to go into the fray. Especially now that she's seeing multicolored vials. Maybe it's reptilian senses. Maybe it's a lizard distrust of wizards.
"This one will be careful!" she promises, before unleashing a gout of flame at one of the thugs. She scores a nice burn on the poor fellow.
"Punch it in the burn!" she instructs Choler. Oww. Isn't Cuemoni supposed to be a healer?
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (31): 31 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6: (2): 2
The wizard sneers at the trio of thugs. "Get bent, Krod! Have fun!" With that, the magician yanks two levers, and then pulls out some kind of component.
Suddenly the machine starts to make an ominous humming sound, and the bottles that were filling are now starting to empty, a seething haze building up around an antenna at the top of the device before a magical effect lashes out.
Suddenly a five foot diameter cloud appears over Choler's head, and it begins to rain on her. Nothing else. Just rain, soaking her instantly.
The wizard throws up both hands, index and pinky fingers extended. "Dark Platinum Wizard Gang! We love casting spells!" He begins to run for the northern door, still shouting, "LEGALIZE METEOR SWARMS!"
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (3)+7: 10 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (1)+7: 8 (EPIC FAIL)
The two henchmen stagger around, blinded temporarily from the flashpowder. The sound of rain falling does act as an aiming point, and so one pushes his guisarme over his boss's shoulder to stab at Choler, while the other jabs at her as well. Sadly, both fail to connect. At least their vision is clearing. Slowly.
GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (10)+6: 16 GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (3)+6: 9 GAME: Choler rolls damage0: aliased to 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7
The sudden change in the weather makes the Goblin frown. "You stay right there! I'll be RIGHT over, once I break this guy's KNEECAP!" She manages to avoid being skewered like her favourite treats from the Lower Market, and leans forward. Her fist blurs as she punches twice in the space of a moment, one blow glancing off the side of his leg, while the other one manages to momentarily dislodge his kneecap.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+5: (13)+5: 18 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d12+4: (8)+4: 12
The half-orc screams in pain as Choler's punch momentarily dislocates his knee, and with a wrenching shake he pops his leg back. "Cover me!" he bellows. Slashing out with his axe, he catches Choler with a nasty gouge as he stumbles backwards, leaning on the crate as he pulls a potion from his belt.
GAME: Warrick rolls acrobatics+1: (19)+6+1: 26 <OOC> Warrick says, "ac 19" GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (20)+7: 27 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24 GAME: Telamon rolls 2d4+3: (6)+3: 9 GAME: Telamon rolls 2d4+3+2d4+3+2d4+3: (6)+3+(4)+3+(5)+3: 24
Warrick gets a better grip on his crossbow before he ducks in reflex from the machine's whirring. There's a glare that's cast across the way. "What in Serriel's good grace- HEY! I'M TACKING RESISTING ON!" he shouts. Making a snap judgement, he tosses his crossbow aside, sliding out the sap. Bounding forward, he veers off to the side, and leaps the ten feet or so across the water. Only to land in a crouch, armor clanking as he does. "By the Phoenix, stop- AH--!"
The once-guard stumbles off one of the polearms, one having speared him in the back, breaking through armor. Blood spattering across the ground. Adrenaline keeps him on his feet, and he storms forth, yanking free a dagger in the other hand as he cuts off the wizard's escape. "HALT!"
GAME: Cuemoni casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 2 DC: 14 GAME: Cuemoni rolls 1d8+2: (4)+2: 6
Cuemoni's golden eyes go wide as she sees blood blooming behind Warrick. "Warrior Warrick!" she calls out, but she can't make the divide, and Choler is quite badly wounded as well.
It's the hardest decision in the world, but she has to make the hard call. She treats who she can first. She thinks of Zeke, brave Zeke, her beloved Cihuaa--and what he would do.
She rushes forward, and her claws find Choler's form: "Spirits, this one entreats you to heal this one's ally!" With Cuemoni's cry, Choler's wounds knit back together, at least a bit.
GAME: Warrick rolls will: (15)+3: 18 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (56): 56
The wizard just kind of looks at Warrick. "Seriously? You just got your ass kicked. Man, just... sit down, or something." He steps back out of Warrick's reach, and spills a handful of multicolored sand that expands into a cone of light, a color spray that Warrick hides his eyes from. "Aw shucks," the wizard grumbles.
Meanwhile, the machine makes a loud flatulent sound, there's another crackle of magical energy, and suddenly all the light goes out in a forty-foot diameter sphere around where the melee is occurring. A loud curse comes from one of the thugs.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d2: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (10)+7: 17 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (3)+7: 10
The thugs flail around blindly with their guisarmes, while their leader tries to get them pointed in the right direction. He... fails. The blades catch nothing but air.
GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (3)+6: 9 GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (7)+6: 13 GAME: Choler rolls damage0: aliased to 1d6+1: (3)+1: 4
Choler lets out a noise of pain, something akin to a gasp of shock and a grunt. She wobbles a little on her feet, but then glares as the axe-wielder steps back. "You ARE going to miss what I punch next..", she growls, advancing forward. The claws upon her have her pausing, her harsh glance over her shoulder softening the moment she feels the pain subsiding somewhat.
"T.thank you."
Then the lights go out. There's a snort. "OH no, the light's went out. What a nightmare." The sarcasm is thick in her tone.
With the two guards missing again, she huffs. Dodging to the side of one of the spears, she aims two quick blows to the lower torso of the blinded man, with one connecting with a solid thump. "Careful, you'll have your own eye out if you keep doing that."
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8+1: (3)+1: 4
The half-orc chugs the contents of the bottle, his injuries closing up as he sneers. "Darkness ain't nothin' to me, shrimp." He then reaches into the cracked open crate, and pulls out a vial filled with a glowing multicolored fluid. "But I bet this'll make things interestin'... wanna see what it does?"
GAME: Warrick rolls melee: (2)+6: 8 GAME: Warrick rolls melee: (11)+6: 17 GAME: Warrick rolls 1d6+2: (6)+2: 8
Warrick coughs, some blood dribbling out from the visor in his helmet. The spell wafts over him, making him stagger briefly before twirling the sap in his hand. "I have a job to do- and a daughter to see after this," he sputters and coughs. "So do me a favor and SIT YOURSELF!"
With practiced speed despite the pain searing in his back, the sap clobbers them in the jaw. Not even seeing if it did anything, he kicks them in the gut, and throws them down into a cold pile. "Why do they always fucking fight, gods. Agh- coming!" he yells to the fray behind him- what the hell was that dark cloud?
GAME: Cuemoni rolls weapon1: (11)+4: 15 GAME: Cuemoni rolls damage1: aliased to 1d6+2: (3)+2: 5
Back in the fray, Cuemoni takes advantage of the dark and the fact that she can see in it. She steps forward and clocks the thug that Choler had been working on with her scimitar. (She's not terribly skilled at using it on people rather than cutting through nature.)
"Stand down from this one's blade!" she demands. Not that they're likely to agree with her.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d6: (6): 6 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (3): 3 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (63): 63 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (35): 35 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (75): 75 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (50): 50 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4+1: (1)+1: 2
The wizard is unconscious, and is not doing much for a while, it seems.
Meanwhile, the machine hiccups, and there is a loud sound like a god blowing it noses. Then there's a little popping sound, and a small kitten appears seated next to Cuemoni and the thug, blinking in confusion.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (20)+7: 27 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (3)+7: 10 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (50): 50 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20: (6): 6
The thugs are desperately doing their best, but it isn't very good with the magical darkness on top of them. One aims an absolutely brutal blow at Choler that... not only misses, but caves in the crate further. At least the vials inside are packed in straw.
The other tries to backpedal, to get some range or get out of the dark. But he slips, hears a confused 'meow' by his foot, recoils, overbalances, and tumbles into the canal with a loud SPLASH!
GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (19)+6: 25 GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (16)+6: 22 GAME: Choler rolls damage0: aliased to 1d6+1: (4)+1: 5 GAME: Choler rolls damage0: aliased to 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7
The Goblin grins toothily. "Oh yes. You can see. I can see. The Sith can see." There's a moment's pause as one of the lackeys falls into the polluted water laziliy flowing by. And the other one manages to perform a magnificent and devastating THRUST into empty air.
"Your lackeys, on the other hand, are blind." Choler easily sidesteps the polearm, and delivers a solid one-two punch to the man's groin.
"So whatcha gonna do, big guy? Drink it, or throw it at me? You'll miss, even at that range. Pfff, your aim is probably so bad, you'll drop it at your own feet. Do you even know what it will do? Probably not even smart enough to understand that you're more of a danger to yourself than you are to me."
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+3: (7)+3: 10 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8: (5): 5 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (4): 4 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (42): 42 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+19: (19)+19: 38 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d8: (2): 2
The half-orc's eyes narrow in rage. "Why you LITTLE--" He flings the vial in a fit of rage, before taking his greataxe in both hands again.
The vial sails over Choler's head, and lands in the water, breaking against the spluttering thug. There's a tremendous THUMP as suddenly a force picks up the thug, rocketing him into the air to slam into the ceiling of the chamber, before he crashes back down... fortunately landing on the bridge, unconscious.
GAME: Warrick rolls perception: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Warrick rolls melee: (10)+6: 16 GAME: Warrick rolls damage7: aliased to 1d4+2: (1)+2: 3
Warrick staggers forward to the fray, but his rapid advance is halted as one of the thugs is launched out of the water, into the ceiling, and then slams into something within the darkness. Back throbbing in pain, he looks between the machine, the fight, the machine. "I'll try and turn it off!" he yells to the group, hoping they could hear him in the madness as he limps over to the control panel.
He looks down at it. Stares. Lifts up his visor. Squints. "... this is above my paygrade. Paloumu would know," he wheezes, leaning against it. He leans back some. Glances to the tubes. Thinks. The knife in his hand flips over as he saws into it. "Can't work with no juice..."
GAME: Cuemoni spends ONE use of FIRE BOLT. GAME: Cuemoni rolls ranged+1: (3)+3+1: 7 GAME: Cuemoni rolls ranged+1: (12)+3+1: 16 GAME: Cuemoni rolls 1d6+2: (2)+2: 4
Cuemoni does not understand softskins and their love for keeping animals as pets. Where she comes from, some animals are kept and are intended to be eaten.
But they're allowed to grow to maturity first. A snort leaves her as she focuses on the mean oruch with the axe. "This one will send you flame," she says, and the druid sends another fire bolt at the oruch's direction.
Finally, however, the golden eyes lock onto the kitten. "Fine," Cuemoni says, scooping up the kitten with a free claw and putting it onto her shoulder. Kitten commander, engaged.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d5: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d5: (4): 4 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (2): 2 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (26): 26 GAME: Cuemoni rolls Will: (4)+6: 10
The machine begins to sputter a bit as Warrick saws into the first hose, releasing a spray of effluent and alchemical byproducts. But there's still another flash of energy from the antenna on top... and suddenly Cuemoni collapses into a fit of what amounts to makari giggles, still cuddling the kitten.
And the darkness dissipates from around the area, revealing an unconscious guard sprawled on the bridge, while the melee continues there.
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (9)+7: 16
The thug's guisarme hisses out as the shadows finally dissipate, and the blade slices through the air... passing over Choler's head again, but closer this time. The thug looks to his boss. "We gotta double-up on 'em, boss, or we're toast!"
GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (17)+6: 23 GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (17)+6: 23 GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (16)+6: 22 GAME: Choler rolls damage0: aliased to 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Choler rolls damage0: aliased to 1d6+1: (4)+1: 5 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+5: (16)+5: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12
The Goblin cackles madly as the potion clears her head by a comfortable margin, and nearly doubles over as the lackey in the water suddenly ERUPTS out of water, hits the ceiling, and crashes down onto the bridge.
"Nice shot, but uhm... I'm down here." Her grin is broad, and widens further as she hardly has to move in order to dodge the polearm.
With the Sith down with a fit of the giggles, and Warrick busy sawing parts of the infernal machine off, Choler darts forward, landing two solid punches to the polearm wielding thug.
"You know, you could just leave, through the doors at the end. We just want the wizard anyways."
The half-orc, in a surprising display of agility, manages to cartwheel past Choler. Coming up axe in hand, he leers. "Time to cut ya down to size, little 'un." He rears back with the greataxe, and it's only through luck or godly favor that it smacks into the stone floor, kicking up sparks instead of cleaving into Choler instead.
GAME: Warrick rolls ranged-2+1: (19)+8+-2+1: 26 GAME: Warrick rolls ranged-2+1: (7)+8+-2+1: 14 GAME: Warrick rolls damage7+1+damage7+1: aliased to 1d4+2+1+1d4+2+1: (1)+2+1+(1)+2+1: 8
Warrick looks past as the machine continues to whirr, and now- Cuemoni has a kitten and is laughing their tail off? "Gods... damn it." At least the dark went away. Seeing an opening, he staggers forward across the bridge, twirling the dagger around before cocking it back. "HEY!"
It launches forth, burying up to the hilt in the side of the thug Choler has been beating into a pulp, making them collapse in pain.
The once-guard points at the half-oruch. "Would you stand down!" he rasps. "Surrendering confers... confers a lesser sentence!"
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (2): 2 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (3): 3 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (52): 52 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+1: (10)+1: 11
Cuemoni is still laughing at the little kitten. It has three colors! Black, white, and little spots of orange. What a funny little cat. Tiny little baby. Fuzzy baby. Furry baby. Silly little baby.
"This one likes you!" Cuemoni coos at the kitten. "This one's going to bring you home to Cihuaa!"
Claw-boop on kitten snoot, giggle, giggle, giggle, giggle. "A little kitty-baby!" Yup. Cuemoni is learning about crazy cat ladyhood.
Suddenly there's another flash of energy from the machine. It arcs out, and the half-orc staggers, looking around dazed and puzzled. As if he doesn't know what's going on. Oh dear.
GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (6)+6: 12 GAME: Choler rolls weapon0: (15)+6: 21 GAME: Choler rolls damage0: aliased to 1d6+1: (5)+1: 6
"It wasn't me!", the Goblin exclaims, as a dagger sprouts from the thug's body, putting him down for the count.
She huffs, seemingly offended by the intervention by Warrick, but she turns to face the Oruch. The flash of light that staggers the axe-wielder has her eyebrows rise, but that doesn't prevent her from landing another solid blow to his thigh.
"You could have simply run... now you're going to sit in a cell."
GAME: Telamon rolls 1d100: (85): 85 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+5: (14)+5: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d12+4: (8)+4: 12
Confused, and starting to froth at the mouth, the half-orc lashes out with his greataxe at Choler -- this time the blade biting into her and drawing blood, as the dazed expression starts to drain out of his eyes again. It appears the magical effects are fleeting, if inconvenient.
GAME: Warrick rolls melee+2: (13)+6+2: 21 GAME: Warrick rolls 1d6+2: (6)+2: 8
Warrick's helmet stares at Cuemoni as the sith giggles with the kitten. He coughs, "Hey hey- focus!" he growls at her. <Draconic> He snaps over to the half-oruch holding the axe. Eyes widen behind as crimson lances out from Choler. Boots move before he can think. "FOR THE RISING PHEONIX!" he roars, full bodily tackling into the half oruch to ground. He struggles briefly before the sap in hand rises.
Then comes down with a wet crack against their skull. They stop moving. Dripping and pooling blood, he stands to his feet, whirling around and woozy as he scans the room. "... cl... clear. The.. machine..."
Once the thugs are down, it's less of a hassle shutting off the machine -- removing the hoses from the canal is enough to cause it to stop generating random magical effects (although Choler is briefly turned into a gaseous state, and Warrick's crossbow sprouted wings and attempted to dive-bomb the insensate wizard).
Once the machine is shut down, it's just a matter of hauling the riffraff back to the surface, where Turow and a group of watch guards take them into custody. Turow assures you the machine will be dismantled, though he remarks, "The prospect of cleaning some of the alchemical waste from the labs does have some potential. Maybe we can put the design to better use."
The reward is good enough, but it does come with a voucher for the use of the TarRaCe baths; not uncommon after sewer forays. And of course, Cuemoni's kitten is a source of curiousity -- both for onlookers, and for the kitten itself. But that's life in Alexandria for you.
OOC
Map link: https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=m8pq41s5d2z