Wicked Stirrings, part 3
Log Info
- Title: Wicked Stirrings, Part 3
- Emitter: Thurid
- Characters: Thorn, Tenoc, Pasithea, Paenitia, Knightmare
- Place: H02: The Felwood
- Time: Monday, December 21, 2020, 3:02 PM
- Summary: The adventurer venture into the ruin again, although some of them are caught in the strange eddys of time. After clearing the door they barricaded earlier, they discover a passage beyond. Tenoc believes he has found a trap and the others clear the corridor while he deals with it. He is enveloped in fire, but only seems relieved as he is finally warm in this land. They venture further. Looking through a door, Paenitia sees a scene frozen in time, of two mages battling. She warns the others, then charges through. As time flows with her, the men disintegrate but the demons remain. Battle ensues. The little Lucht Knight is unable to land any serious blows. Tenoc carries the day with his spear, and Thorn and Pasithea with their spells. Paenitia is only able to finish off the quasit after the others knock it unconscious. A task she hesitates at, as slaying falling foes isn't that honourable. In the aftermath, spidery limbs emerge from nearby cobwebs.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* H02: The Felwood *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The hills give way to trees, which grow black instead of green. The Felwood, once a part of the greater world, now stands apart from it. The trunks of its wood stand twisted in the way that trees will twist, yet somehow wrong, somehow off. Here, it's always cold, the weather just "something other" than what it should be.
Overhead, a continual storm brews. A blackened smear cuts the sky directly above the wood, a darkened rift that was never meant to be. Its creation is rumored as an unnatural thing, a crafting of the unnatural creatures that lie within these woods.
Now and then, the city sends out patrols to thin the creatures, and keep them from the main roads. However, travel here is dangerous, risky, and often painful.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Thorn 5'5" 130 Lb Half-Elf Male Wild-looking half-sil. Tenoc 7'0" 280 Lb Sith-Makar Male Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Pasithea 3'2" 38 Lb Halfling Female Tall female lucht, willowy, Hair dark as night -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Sirs Not Apearing -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Knightmare 6'4" 294 Lb War Golem Female A knightly construct on the hoof bearing heraldry of lost Dragonier. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Thurid 7'1" 249 Lb Giantborn Female Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Rumors surrounding increased monster activity in the vicinity of an old ruin prompted an adventuring party to come investigate. After defeating the guardian of the ruin- a many headed skeleton- and sustaining injuries in the process, the party decided to seek reinforcements in the city and set up a base camp outside of the ruin. As they were regrouping, preparing to head into the ruins once more- the adventurers were beset by a gnoll hunting party, whom they have managed to defend against.
Now, the adventurers are assembled and rested, the gnoll corpses burned, and preperations are nearly complete to press onwards into the dungeon. Thorn arrived a littler later than the mounted reinforcements, having come on foot, and as such missed the excitement with the gnoll raid- although the scent of burning corpses hangs still in the foggy air.
Thorn has a habit of just... walking in out of the fog. The Half-Sil gathers his bearskin mantle around his shoulders and looks up at the ferret in his curly hair, "Smells dirty, doesn't it Bastard." He wrinkles his nose. "Could smell that on the other side of the forest." The pyre still smolders, even days later; watchful eyes no longer glance back at it from the Makar, focused more fully on the ruin itself. Tenoc sits in the branches of a tree, spear at hand as he surveys the scene from his perch with a quiet rumble.
"Ssssk," he announces himself to the familiar form, a thump of his tail to the side of the trunk. "If one wishes to be clean, there are great tubs of hot water in the city-mond-thing." Grinning at some dry wit, he stretches with a slow languor, shivering with a hiss. Paenitia has also returned. She took advanatage of the strange flow of time to seek other reinforcements. Although she doesn't appear successful. She appears out of the mist on her great white peacock and annouces herself, "Hola my friends, I return!"
Ramirez trots closer, his long tail-train sweeping the trail behind him, blinding watching it with many read eyes. "I regret to say, the adventurers and knights in Alexandria, they are hard to find!" She waves at Tenoc, she's used to looking up at him, but not so in a tree. "Ha! You climb? So sneaky."
"Some fire burns clean." Thorn says, as he looks down at a gnoll's skull among the ashes, "But not Gnolls." He wrinkles his nose and then straightens up, holding his spear in one hand. Then he looks up at Tenoc and says, "Where have you been to, and where are you going?"
The maw of the ruin waits, darkness beyond rusted and rotten doors, no sound eminates from within but for the occasional dripping of damp on the ceiling, or pebbles tumbling down from the pile Tenoc left laying against the innner chamber's door when they last sealed it up.
"Here," Tenoc answers the half-elf's question simply, twisting to clamber with swift ease down the tree. A few seconds and he is done-- thumping his tail again at the sight of Paen and Ramirez! "Keeping watch," he adds, glancing at the ruin, the faint clatter of pebbles. He rumbles darkly, chuffing a breath. "Days, nights, they do not... flow properly, here. Strange times."
Indeed, he still wears the bandages applied before departure for reinforcements, nodding towards the ruin face. "Sssk. Nothing has come this way. The pile has not moved."
The dark Lucht sits happily on her saddle, looking around at her weapon selection. She has a cornicopia of options. She selects a warhammer, a longsword and her shield again. She nudges the other Lucht, sleeping and riding side-saddle behind her, "Fair one, we are here. Rouse."
"Ramirez, we dismount!" Paenitia calls out, and her peacock-andalusian extends a white wing to the ground for her and Pasithea to slide down. She does so first, then holds her hand to assist the sleepy sorceress.
Pasithea, sleepy as ever, waits with patience atop Ramierez's back. She sits up , having looked like just another bag behind the saddle. "Hello...everyone."She says with a yawn. "Back to work... here where time surged like ..the ocean."
"Hmmmmm." Thorn says, stroking his chin. "All right." He smirks, and then he studies the ruins. "Going in?"
And so the Brave adventurers head back into the ruins- they look much the same as they left them, the pile of rubble remains leaning against the door that delves deeper in. The floor is still spattered with blood- now congealed and partly died- and scattered with the broken bones of the ruin's former guardian. No further rapid march of time seems to have occured here. All that remains to delve deeper is to shift the mishapen, lumpy statues that bar the door.
Tenoc thrums towards Pasithea, nodding to the other as he takes the lead. Slightly stiff, sluggish-- ages in old, cold tree! --endured without comment as the Makar moves into the stony alcove. Pause, sniff, chuff breath-- he eyes the whole place with care before he finally, reluctantly lets his allies enter.
"...did not plan where to set statues," he says by way of apology, rumbling with wry amusement. He studies the misshapen stonework, tailtip flicking before he shrugs. "Moving them-- likely to make noise. Tell whatever is... sssk. Behind door, that we come."
"Ramirez, you hide! Be safe!" Paenitia orders once Pasithea has been helped down. She gives him a friendly pat on the hindquarters. Her peacock hippogryph whickers back at her, then scrape-trots off as he looks for a proper imperial tree to perch in.
Then the red knight turns to follow Tenoc's lead. "The things beyond, they may not hear. Remember how the time flows in waves, waiting at a door to crest and break. All sounds may go through at once." She adjusts her grip on her shield, has a warhammer in hand and looks about warily. Exciting adventure is afoot!
"You have my help, to shift the statues! You must only ask, good friend."
GAME: Pasithea casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 2 DC: 15
Pasithea is helped down and gives the poor mount that she's stepping all over a gentle pat on the side by way of appology. She then heads in with the others and looks the space over frowning. "It's been.. many days now and the blood is... still fresh. The magic seems stronger here then.. outside." That said she quickly casts her spell of protection.
GAME: Thorn casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 1 DC: 14
Thorn's nostrils flare and he runs his tongue across his teeth, before he inhales a breath, first through his nose, then through his mouth. "Magic has a smell." He murmurs, "Magic has a *taste*... Tan- me i mysterime, mana na- halda -o i hendi."
Once they get to work, it's fairly short order to shift the statues out of the way. The door, much like the one before it, seems to be uncharicteristically well maintained for the age of the ruins. Wood remains unrotten and varnished, iron bandings and rivets solid and sturdy. All that remains is to push it open, and to step through. No noises on the other side respond to the grinding of stone against stone as the statues are shifted. Perhaps Paenitia is right? Or perhaps whatever forces lay in wait bide their time.
A few minutes' work-- rough stone, smooth scrapings, the toss of smaller blocks. The door cleared, nostrils flaring briefly as Tenoc steals in the air-- catching breath, from air still faintly musty, stale with age.
"Follow this one,"he cautions, waiting for the others to prepare. Then, facing down that most sinister of things..."
- .... THE CLOSED DOOR.
A moment to study the construction, curiosity-- then shrugging, as Tenoc braces his palm against the wood, opening it with care. "Tenoc, my friend," Paentia says, laying a red gauntleted hand on his knee. She looks up at him, with her Smiling Mask and wide brimmed hat whos feather sweeps the floor. "I shall throw open the door and you may rush through. We shall see if honourable foes or despicable villains lie beyond. Yes? It is a good plan."
She pats his knee again, then puts her shoulder to the door in an attempt to open it; At the same time the sith'makar pushes on it.
"Spell on this place. A spell of timelessness perhaps? But it's..." He breathes in through his mouth again, "...Broken? Not working the way it should. No... sometimes fast, sometimes slow? Not sure..."
And much like the first time they pushed open a door in this cursed place, the air rushes in, and with it the tides of time held at bay. Candles in sconces lining the walls melt and sputter out all at once, cobwebs sprout and grow in size and then turn to dust. The door rots and creaks, its iron bandings rust. Moss grows in the cracks between the flagstones and water stains the stone of the arched ceiling.
The adventurers find themselves in a corridor, about twenty feet long- directly ahead, another door, and to the right, the path splits.
GAME: Tenoc rolls Perception: (19)+11: 30 GAME: Thorn rolls perception: (14)+5: 19 GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (11)+4: 15
Tenoc stalks forward once Paen opens the door, with barely a hint of sound. He shivers-- a brief sketch on the air to ward evil spirits --stepping forward towards the corridor's parting. He moves forward, glancing about-- pausing just before the branch.
"...sssk," he inquires, frozen in place, quivering. "Floor is... not right. Unlevel here." He steps back, frowning as he taps with the tepoztopilli, clicking it on the floor. "...here."
None of the rest are quite sure what Tenoc is getting at, they don't see anything weird about the flagstone he is poking.
"Tap hard! Traps hide under the slanting floors." Paenitia suggests, following behind Tenoc and looking around or under him as the opportunity presents. "I see the flat floor. I trust you my friend, if you say it is wrong."
Thorn quirks his mouth, but then says, "If a man says something is wrong with the floor, believe him." He sinks into a crouch, gripping the haft of his longspear with both hands, as he thinks.
Pasi sighs and then yawns and shakes her head as if to clear it. "Or.. pry up an.. look under if you.. think it is wrong?" She casts her magic light and puts it on the tip of her spear, holding it up to assist in viewing things.
The flagstone bars the path. Everyone could all jump across to the other side of it easily when not stressed, but the corridor is narrow and it would be difficult to navigate it around it to the right or if you were concentrating on other things.
GAME: Tenoc rolls Reflex: (8)+9: 17 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d6+3: (3)+3: 6
And so, everyone backs away from the dangerous bit of flooring, and Tenoc cautiously presses the flagstone with the tip of his spear. Nothing happens, at first, so he gives it a harder shove. There's the grinding of stone against stone, and then a sudden flash of light. Flames burst from a spout concealed above the doorway the other three have hidden in and fill the corridor, washing over tenoc from behind- luckily he is quick on his feet, and his scales are accustomed to the heat, so by pressing himself to the wall he saves himself all but the faintest of singing to his clothes.
The flagstone remains depressed, and the flames stop after a few moments.
Tenoc rumbles as he thinks hard, trying to find the best way to explain. "Is.... sssk. Some younglings, as they grow into fuller scales. All mesh even, when they hatch. As grow-- larger, thicker scales. Uneven pattern. Itchy." He waves the Halfling Knight back, stretching his neck with a quick, bone-popping creak, bracing his spear in both hands. He waits until the others are clear, then--
FLAMES
Tenoc leaps with a swift dodge, avoiding the worst of the... fire? Flames! He sizzles faintly, the sound olf faint crackliung very much similar to the sound the steamkettle Makar makes as he basks in the flash of hot, brief fire. Warm, AT LAST.
Bliss!
Thorn raises his eyebrows as he watches from his crouch. "One man's deadly trap is another man's relaxing shower, eh Bastard?"
Pasithea flinches at the sound and bright light. Even she gets a breaf blast of warm air. And as nice as it may be she steps forward cautiously to peer down the hall. "You.. ok?"
"Tenoc!" The red Knight calls, watching the sith'makar become enveloped. As the flames die down, she stares intently through her mask, "You are unscathed! Truly you are the dragon, my friend. That is magnificent!"
Paenitia is overjoyed he survived, and also, that she wasn't caught in the blast. She considers her oaths of chivalry, was this an attack she should have bourne? She's not fireproof, and he seems to be, so No! All remains well. "The way is safe? I come."
She catches up with Tenoc.
With the drap safely disarmed- or rather, discharged, the group are free to travel through the now extremely cobweb free section of corridor and peer down the branch to see what lays here. Another stretch, about twenty feet- with large, heavy and dusty cobwebs barring the path, threads as thick as a pinky finger in places. And beyond that, collapsed rubble of what looks as though it may have once been the tower's central staircase, now little more than a pile of granite and dust.
Barely visible, as it is largely obscured by the thick webbing, there is another switchback- so they have two paths forwards. Through the web, or through the door.
The Makar grins, turning to nod at the two halflings, the half-elf, rumbling cheerfully. "This one is well," he replies chipperly, stretching again with a delighted shiver. "Old, wicked things-- ssk. Try to burn Child of the Dragon!" He snorts derisively, more cheerful than he has been in some many days. Only the faintest touch of bone-aching chill! Mostly.
He takes up a place against the far wall of the corridor, glancing between both it and the door. "Sssk. Would please open next door?" he asks, rumbling contentedly. "This one will watch, cover. In case needed, yus."
GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (18)+4: 22 GAME: Tenoc rolls Perception: (11)+11: 22 GAME: Thorn rolls Perception: (13)+5: 18 GAME: Pasithea rolls perception: (1)+3: 4 (EPIC FAIL)
"Yes my friend, I will open it." Paenitia advances, her shield raised, her warhammer ready. At the door she examines it, searching for a keyhole to peer through. As she does, she asks, "Sorceress Pasithea, the surge of time, can it be stopped? A cork or a damn? If a door, she can hold it back, what else will?"
Peeking through a crack around the latch for the door, the dark Lucht spies an unusual scene. It's like a still painting, two robed men, apparently in the midst of a heated argument. One of them has a hand held out, sparks flying from his fingertips at the other who is holding up his own hands defensively. Over the shoulder of one of the men is a red skinned impish creature, while a grey horned creature is sitting on the shoulder of the other. There is a statue between them, and a roarinf fireplace- frozen, also, in time.
Thorn tilts his head as he listens, and then he says, "You listen too, Bastard." Then he looks up at Tenoc. "Feeling better! You become more you when you're warm, I think - beaches maybe? Pretty..." He thinks. "...Lady-Lizards?" He smirks, before he looks at the webs. "No one been that way in a long time right, Bastard? Maybe spiders. Should have brought a torch to clear the webs." "Something here..." Thorn adds, murmuring out loud.
"...farther away?" the Makar asks, tilting his head to.. something. Distant? Sounds. Somewhere! "...should be safe to open door. Careful."
Pasithea wakes up from her nap leaning on her spear. She looks up and about, regaining her place in the waking world. Her mind feeding her the question posed to her with her voice just above a whisper. "This place is a bottle stoppered many times. Each opening made releases the old... magics and lets time.. flow back within. The magic fades ...then.. i think."
"Wait!" Paenitia holds up her shield, "It is like a painting."
"Two men, they are fighting with great passion. Like wild, excited beasts. Spells fly! One, he holds his hands high. No my friend, that will not stop the spell. And more, there are demons! One is like a red-skinned fiery human child, the other, skin that is grey. Both besit shoulders. There is a statue, and the very fire itself, is still like blown glass."
She looks back at everyone, her face hidden behind an ever smiling, mildly rusted mask, "From what you say, then the door is opened, the fight will start again. Be ready to follow. I open it!"
GAME: Paenitia rolls fortitude: (12)+6: 18
When the door is opened, once more the flow of time catches up with thisisolated moment in history. Paenitia rushes into the room- but to all the others, they will see her moving at an incredibly slow pace- meanwhile, for the Knight, everything happens around her in an extreme blur. It is an extremely unsettling experience, which turns the stomach and disorients the senses.
The spell frozen in time collides its target, sparks coursing through him and he falls from his seat. The other man is proud of his victory for only a moment, before turning, hearing some distant sound, and suddenly collapses to the ground. Both corpses quickly dissintegrate- decaying and rotting to dust and rags in a matter of instants. And Paenitia suddenly falls from the molasses that seemed to hold her in slow motion, stumbling into the room where one of the two men had been standing before being struck by the spell.
Meanwhile, the two demonic beings- familiars to the dueling wizards, perhaps, blink in confusiong. "What the..." the ram horned one utters, while the red skinned scorpion tailed creature hovering at the other side of the room says, "Doesn't matter, look- mortals."
GAME: Pasithea casts Ear-Piercing Scream. Caster Level: 2 DC: 15 GAME: Pasithea rolls 1d6: (2): 2 GAME: Thurid rolls 1: (6)+1: 7
Pasi shuffles her feet after the others! Noting the one creature she can see and that it does not look natural she opts to cast at it, hand to lips that whisper of dreams undrempt. The air about it vibrates harshly and seems to both harm and stun the being.
The imp starts as the armored and sorcerous mortals don't waste any time in rushing into the room. He hadn't even had the chance to bargain for their souls yet! He snaps his fingers, wings flapping, and disappears from sight as he conceals himself with magic.
GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+9: (13)+9: 22 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d10+7: (9)+7: 16
Tenoc briefly catches sight of two-- then, one! Leaving the second for later, the first gets introduction, swift and sure. Lunging forward, the Makar brings the black obsidian tip in o strike-- stabbing with a sudden, sharp squeal from the beast!
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon7: (1)+4: 5 (EPIC FAIL)
"Yoooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuu." Paenitia says, her word drawn out as she swims in the riptide of time. She stumbles as everything stops being a blur and returns to normal flow. Her surprise catches up with her. She points her warhammer at the quasit, she was closest to it.
"I am Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Haranna, Knight of the Pillar. What did you do? Convince your master to fight? You have sent him to dust and yourself to prison. Explain!"
The time currents held her back. Pasithea's spell, Tenoc's swing, the Quasit, all moved before she did. The fight is on! She swings, "Huzzah!"
There's still some lingering time flow, it's like her weapon is held in the air, and then surges into a blinding strike that would have hit where the quasit was a minute ago.
GAME: Thorn casts Flare. Caster Level: 1 DC: 13 GAME: Thurid rolls 1: (12)+1: 13
Thorn hangs at the back of the pack, and lightly taps the butt of his spear against the ground. "Let tar n- kal-" There is a flash of bright light, but the Quasit shades its eyes in time to avoid the worst of it.
GAME: Pasithea casts Ear-Piercing Scream. Caster Level: 2 DC: 15 GAME: Thurid rolls 1: (3)+1: 4 GAME: Pasithea rolls 1d6: (1): 1
Once again the sorceress of sleep puts hands to lips as if to call out, only to whisper. Again the magics vibrate the air about the imp and seem to stun the creature. Yet the sleepy one notes the lat of critter to her right and back up out of the door. "Be ware.. invisible foe."
GAME: Thurid rolls 28: (17)+28: 45 GAME: Thurid rolls 8: (19)+8: 27 GAME: Thurid rolls 1d4: (2): 2 GAME: Tenoc rolls Fortitude: (19)+10: 29
Quiet as a mouse, the imp flaps his way invisibly to take up the spot recently vacated by a certain sleepy lucht, and then lunges its bardbed tail into Tenoc- working the pointed tip between scale and armor, he injects a stinging venom into the wound- but sting is all it does, and the Sith-Makar hardly even feels it.
Outside at the basecamp, the Knightmare struggles to move, caught in an eddy of time.
GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+9: (6)+9: 15
Hardly even feels-- but, unfortunately for Tenoc--!
"Ssssssk!" the Makar suddenly exhale. Eyes widening, he wriggles when the barbed tail skitters along scale, raking down-- just beneath armored skin, leaving him quivering.
"Sssk! Tickles! Stop!" the Makar complains, writhing agaisnt the (attempted) stab.
Tenoc needless to say, the spear thrust misses wildly!
The quasit lost most of a wing and a chunk of his tail from Tenoc's initial attack, and the constant ringing in his ears doesn't seem to be improving his mood very much. He plugs his ears with clawd fingers and blinks and shakes his head, even as his freshly inflicted wounds begin to close up again- his wing knitting itself back together while the other one flaps frantically to keep him in the air for now.
The Quasit is badly hurt and dazed, but steadily regenerating.
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon7: (8)+4: 12
Sister Paenitia is rather happy to be fighting a quasit. It's a right-sized foe, and downright evil, so moral quandries are unlikely. And after, there will be an imp!
After does seem like it will be some time coming, the Lucht Knight swings her warhammer and again, she is off the mark.
GAME: Thorn casts Ear-Piercing Scream. Caster Level: 1 DC: 15 GAME: Thurid rolls 1: (8)+1: 9 GAME: Thorn rolls 1d6: (1): 1
Seeing the Quasit beginning to recover, Thorn turns, and then he lets out a scream loud enough and sharp enough to crack glass aimed in the direction of the ugly little creature, causing it to reel away from whatever its next demonic plan might be.
The Quasit is dazed, Tenoc is being tickled form behind by unseen forces.
GAME: Pasithea rolls ranged-8: (2)+5+-8: -1
Pasiteha finds herself in the back of the herd once again. And the thigh high view is somewhat familiar if not the surroundings. She tips her head one way and then another trying to get a shot in at the beasts without harming her companions. She thinks she has one and casts but jerks to the side at the last moment to avoid hitting Tenoc.
The imp swears and mutters as his stabbing attack barely harms the tough-skaled sith, "You gonna do something!?" he chides the reeling demonic quisit across the way. He ducks away, flitting about hapharzardly to get back out of range of counter attack- but he is too slow for Tenoc's spear, and the Sith-makar is able to catch him while he retreats to the corner of the room.
GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+11: (13)+11: 24 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d10+7: (8)+7: 15
Tenoc slashes, stabs, sees opportunity--!
He takes his strike, stabbing forward, landing the sharp rake of black stpeartip once again-- stepping forward , just in time to avoid menacing sizzle of acidic bolt from behind!
The imps wounds are rapidly healing.
GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+11: (20)+11: 31 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+11: (8)+11: 19 GAME: Tenoc rolls 2d10+14: (15)+14: 29
The Makar' steam-kettle hiss comes from snarling lips, toothy maw bared as he grins wickedly. Deftly, Tenoc sidesteps a statue-- not enough to stop him, but enough to block a charge. Levelled spear-- brutal lunge!
More than enough.
The black-tipped spear cuts through the air, striking the imp center-of-mass with a sudden crunch. Pinned to the wall like a butterfly to a corkboard, it quivers their helplessly, squealing a soundless, wailing screech-- expiring with a shudder at the end of the blade.
The quasit makes weird noises at the imp, like, "Maap. Maaaap" as the horned creature blinks confusedly and continues trying to get his ears to work and his head to stop ringing like a bell. "Maap. Maap." he says again.
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon7: (16)+4: 20 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage7: aliased to 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7
"Ha ha!" Paenitia calls at the Quasit, vigorously advancing, "You will dance with me. The passionate last dance! Your master will be avenged."
Her swing connects. A solid strike with a well worn warhammer of Isobar. Beyond that characteristic, there is nothing unique about it. It is an ordinary weapon, for an ordinary knight of the people.
As such, it doesn't hurt infernal demons all that well. Paenitia's blow injured the quasit, but it seems to be healing the damage as fast as she can deal it. Which is very slow so far.
It may come down to harsh language. That is, spells.
GAME: Thorn casts Flare. Caster Level: 1 DC: 13 GAME: Thurid rolls 1: (9)+1: 10
Having stunned the quasit, Thorn keeps up the pressure. He grips his spear more tightly, and then murmurs, "Let tar n- kal-" There's another dazzling flash of light, and this time the creature is unable to avert its eyes in time. It sees spots.
The Quasit is no longer Dazed, but it is Dazzled!
GAME: Pasithea casts Acid Splash. Caster Level: 2 DC: 14 GAME: Pasithea rolls ranged-4: (19)+5+-4: 20 GAME: Pasithea rolls 1d3: (3): 3
Bodies in front of her have moved and space is made! She brings herself forward again, ducks around Thorn again. "Hello..bye.." She says in passing with nervious voice. Then standing in the room once more casts her acid spell again. It hits! Solidly.. and drips off of the creature. "Acid! No effect!" She shouts a standard talking volume.
GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+11: (16)+11: 27 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d10+7: (1)+7: 8
Tenoc grions as he jerks his spear back, shaking the other beast from the tip. Turning, he twirls the weapon back forwar, leveled as he checks. No path to charge. Grr!
Striding forward instead, he moves to Paenitia's side, long reach of the tepoztopilli giving him the room he needs. A strike!-- Glancing, barely enough to scrape through the quasit's otherworldly defenses.
GAME: Thurid rolls 36: (19)+36: 55 GAME: Paenitia rolls perception+20: (1)+4+20: 25 (EPIC FAIL)
The Quasit pinned against the wall finally, finally begins to come to his senses. Head ringing like a bell and bright spots flashing before his eyes he shakes his head, "Maap. Maaaap. Maa- What in the nine hells?" he blinks in confusuiion, ducking under a swinging hammer. He snaps his fingers, and in a poof of smoke he disapears once again, trying to squeeze his way out from between the swinging weapons while he is invisible.
Invisible! "Ho! That is not the fair fight! Stay visible." Paenitia calls. Of course, four on one isn't fair either, but the Quasit is flying. Everything, she balances out.
The red Knight moves around the statue, past Tenoc then swings in the deadspace behind it, hoping she's guessed the creature's hiding spot.
She has not. Her warhammer smacks the ground. "Well, this is not the spot!"
GAME: Thorn casts Guidance. Caster Level: 1 DC: 14
Thorn reaches up onto his head, and takes that noodly ferret into his hand. He whispers something in its ear and puts it down, and it runs over to Tenoc and up his leg, bringing with it just a little twist in the arbitariness of fate in his favor.
The small sorceress uses her spear to swish the air next to herself and thorn. "I...don't know. Perhaps it is escaping?"
Tenoc lashes his tail as he turns, observes the others. A strange hunt-- but needed. Rumbling softly, the Makar moves to the corner, stabbing carefully with his spear. Slow, methocdical-- not like a normal hunt, but-- not normal prey. STALK.
GAME: Thorn rolls Will: (14)+7: 21 GAME: Tenoc rolls Will: (16)+5: 21 GAME: Paenitia rolls will: (18)+3: 21 GAME: Pasithea rolls will: (18)+4: 22
The grey-skinned quasit re-appears! In the darkened archway leading back out of this room, and deeper into the ruins- as yet unexplodred, with another of those cobwebs to his back, "You all should just bugger off!" he squals at them, the little demon seeming much larger and imposing than he truly is as he issues the command to flee to the adventurers- though they are bravem the supernatural fear will wash over them, like a knot in the gut, and cause hesitation and trepidation even in the bravest souls.
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon7: (6)+4: 10
The terror comes and grabs her. The same feeling when Papa was taken by the Iron Baron, the feeling again when her brother was imprisoned. The despair, that she can't help them.
No!
When in doubt, charge! Paenitia roars a high pitched scream and rushes at the Quasit. She swings.
Her attack misses.
GAME: Thorn casts Guidance. Caster Level: 1 DC: 14
Aside from fully entering the room Thorn... doesn't seem to do much of anything, though in reality he's maintaining a magical connection to his familiar which is slightly improving the odds for Tenoc. It's magic, it isn't always flashy!
GAME: Pasithea casts Ear-Piercing Scream. Caster Level: 2 DC: 15 GAME: Pasithea rolls 1d6: (6): 6 GAME: Thurid rolls 1: (11)+1: 12
What? It's behind them?! Pasithea spins on heal and wastes no time in casting what is likely her only major spell. This time the air vibrates hard enough to briefly obscure the wee flyer and again the being is stunned. "Quick! Its.." she falls asleep..
GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d20+11-2: (15)+11+-2: 24 GAME: Tenoc rolls 1d10+7: (4)+7: 11
Tenoc blinks suddenly. That shadow, it-- those, they-- it, them, AUSSIR--!
Tenoc snarls, gripping his head, shaking it roughly before he gives the reappeared quasit a death glare. Quivering from the adrenaline, the aftershocks of terror come and not-quite-gone, he advances with menace. Anger. Seething.
The spear that comes with him is perfunctory, a deft and brutal thrust. Another demo from beyond, slashed through the tiny belly with a vengeful rip.
<OOC> Thurid says, "Alright, it's helpless so you can make a coup de grace" GAME: Paenitia rolls damage7: aliased to 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage7: aliased to 1d6+1: (5)+1: 6 GAME: Thurid rolls 1: (5)+1: 6
The quasit has fallen. It is not quite dead. The red Knight hesitates. It is helpless, it is also irredeemably evil. Should she offer surrender? If she did, and it accepted, then what? Would she be responsible for a demon.
Would it lead her down a terrible path, to the same fate as it's former master?
The dark Lucht decides it must be killed. "You have fought unfairly, you caused your master to die! You are not a noble opponent. Return to where you came."
She swings and her warhammer finally connects, killing the infernal creature.
As Paenitia takes a step forwards to finish off the fallen Demon, it is a swift end to a creeture who would likely have not been nearly so merciful if the roles were reversed. It's form begins to crumble away as it lays broken against the flagstones. The knight raises her gaze, and looks further into the long and narrow passage that the demon had begun to flee down before it paused to inflict that gut wrenching horror on them.
Towards the end of the corridor, where it begins to open out in a haphazard, half-collapsed way- she sees large foreclaws and mandibles clamber their way around the corner. Many eyes, catching the faintest hints of light from Pasithea's distant speartip.
Combatty Stuff
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
18 Pasithea 1
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18 Imp 1
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>> 18 Tenoc 3 <<
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16 Quasit
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8 Paenitia 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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4 Thorn 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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