PrP: Leftovers
Log Info
- Title: Leftovers
- Emitter: Lenore, co-DM (Roll Dude) Virton
- Characters: Alba (Wtc7)* Raethon (Wiz6)* Zyla (Mnk6) Kiroth (Pal9)* Gwendolyn (Pal6)* Latenat (Rgr1/Rog6)*
- Place: Wizard Hermit's Tower, Northern Alexandria
- Time: April 27, 2016
- Summary: There are things that wizards should not tinker with, and tinkerers should not entertain. There has been a call to aid put out for a hermit wizard in the northern reaches of Alexandria, stating that he has made a 'most tragic error' and is unable to rectify this mistake, for reasons not mentioned.
- APL: 7
- Encounter 1: 2 Tophet, CR 12
ST:
A journey into the north takes our fair adventurer's through the dense parts of the forest before it brings them to the valley plains beyond; the scent of tilled earth and fresh farmland, as well as the rather pungent evidence of their livestock, is the general theme of what they'll have to manage through on their way to the hermit tower known only as Grayspire.
The journey is, as typical, uneventful.
Mounts are provided for those that need them, fast and sturdy.
It takes only a few hours to make it to the spire, and much less time to realize that something here has gone terribly wrong; the door is shattered and entire portions of it are missing, the small garden that is used to sustain the solitary host having been mangled by some foul brigands clearly in need of early spring peas.
They got their fill, those monsters.
Tracks, for those that have the ability to spot and follow them, are heavy and large; rounded and sunken deeply into the muddy earth, made simple by the rains that have fallen recently. They lead around to various areas around the spire, but always come back, multiple overlaid trips made to and from the tower, and the freshest leading back inside.
There are no signs of the wizard that placed the call to aid, but magic hums heavily in the air, lending a certain metalic taint to the cool, still ambiance of this place.
Kiroth gets down off of the mount that was provided for him and he ties it to a nearby tree. He unslings his shield from his back and takes out his sword. "Stay behind me." Kiroth tells the others as he moves his shield up and he takes a deep breath closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them they are glowing golden white as he looks over the tower and starts towards the door way. He pauses for a few moments to let his banesight fully reveal to him all that it can.
Zyla ends up walking because after all she is a big girl, and the fact that she moves at the same speed so she can easily keep up. She is hard to miss, since she is in the bright red. She glances around a bit, "Well looks like we might be a bit late and missed the party."
"Wouldn't dream of it, old bean." Rae says as he slides off of his own horse. You could say he got off his high horse. But he stays behind the mobile wall that's in front of him. "Something definitely went horribly wrong here. But that's rather obvious. Let's see if there's anything I can find...."
Alba hovers a couple inches off the ground, her form obscured by a thick, shaggy hide wrap, face hidden by a sly-eyed mask of carved bone. Her eyes follow the tracks, mask turning to follow one path, then another, back to the muddy sinkhole. "Perhaps," she murmurs, drifting slowly toward the tower, "but the tracks tell a story of someone yet inside."
Latenat rarely leaves the city... his stomping grounds and chosen territory, and and even then prefers to limit his excursions to the constraints of Alexandros. Having travelled the whole way by horse the half-sil scoundrel has beel a little terse and out of sorts, and weras he is used to travelling long distances under his own power his thighs are complaining under this new mode of transport,"You got it." he replies to Kiroth, eying the military accoutrements adorning the staturesque character as he ties his mount up. Damn things are too bloody expensive to risk running around on their own.
Rae winces a little bit. "Blast." he says. "Alba's on the right track, but from the way the tracks look, and the magic that I feel...there's a construct in there. Possibly a golem. I'm going to be blunt, I have no experience with them. None." he then looks to Alba. "What about you? Think you can make a golem crap a brick?"
Kiroth looks all over the tower, "I don't see anything that is evil here, although those that are proficient and magic may wish to take a look." He doesn't move yet as he keeps his shield up and ready incase something should attack them from inside of the tower.
Horses are a fantastic animal - loyal and steadfast, and while she is not an accomplished equestrian, Gwendolyn Edelweiss, Paladin of Daeus and all around insane person (what paladin isn't?) slides off her mount, tying it up behind where Kiroth did, and patting the horse's side. If someone else wishes to take the front, that'll be fine by her! Taking another's glory is rarely her goal.
"Let us push back the uncertainty with the burning light of truth, then." She murmurs, with a light grin, drawing her own shield onto her arm and resting a hand against the hilt of her sword. "Evil festers while good worries, friends! Shall we sally forth?"
"I think that were I to accomplish this feat," Alba answers, the slow smile evident by the tone of her voice, "I would be well pleased. So, so, and so... let us venture within." Turning in the air to survey her fellow adventurers, Alba dips, twists, and begins to make for the door, cutting a snakelike path at about hip-height. Because apparently some people can't do anything normally.
ST:
Inside the tower, it couldn't be more different.
It is pristine, made of white marble, brought to life by scarlet banners and golden filligree, dotted with arched windows that stretch the eternity that is the length of the spire, placed in such a manner that the stained glass that decorates them casts an image of storybook fancy across the polished walls with such radiance that it seems as though they might step out of that sunkissed reverie to personally greet you.
The floors are a rich cherrywood, with broad and elaborate natural-toned rugs and runners that make their way toward distant, undiscovered rooms, and up the railless stairway that coils up the walls like some stoneborn serpent, winding its way into the looming shadows so far above that it swallows even torchlight before it reaches its end.
Large wooden doors dot an impossibly long hallway that drifts back and to the north of the room, lamplight plentiful, the walls marred by thick, rounded trenches as though blunted claws had dug their way through the smooth stone, doors and paintings tattered and broken at the corners, scattered remnants of their former prestige strewn about the floor carelessly, clearly trampled upon without any sort of reverence for their craft.
There is a flickering glow from beyond the furthest door, an electric blue that grows and dims without pattern, like guttering flamelight, or unharnessed spark. There is sound, as well, for those that are perceptive enough to hear it; a soft buzz, soft shuffling 'grinding' like metal on stone in tilt or turn, and a snuffling like truffle-hunting pigs.
Most of that sound, spare the buzzing, stop momentarily at the approach of the group, voices low and deep rumbling back and forth, though nothing of real words can be filtered out over the ambiant charge of the stagnant air. It is, however, getting awfully warm in here.
The half sil turns his grey-eyed attention apon Gwendolyn, his attention caught by her method of adress,"Yeeeessssssss." he drawls out his agreement slowly, as if considering the best way to interact with her,"Kiroth my old chum, we might just have to do this togeather. Traps, locks and the like." Latenat explains brusquely, the building giving him more confidence after hours of wilderness than he might otherwise have as he begins to venture toward the tower, practiced eye scanning for dangers of an inanimate danger.
"There's more than one behind that door......and...they're talking about eating us. So, I don't think they're going to be very friendly." Rae says before looking to Latenat. "let them push their way in.....then work to get around them."
Zyla cocks her head to the side, she thought she heard something, yep, the rest of the group are making noises and talking, and that is about all that she really hears.
Holding a hand up in the amber lamplight Latenat pauses, turning his head to the rest of the party as they venture down the hallway,"Did anyone hear that?" the rogue murmurs, pitching his voice low for all whom know stealth whispers carry all the further dipping his head in deference to Raethon,"There is much to be wary of, here."
Eeling her way through the air, Alba rises to hover over and around the closed doorway. Her head tilts to one side, then another, as she listens to the sounds behind the closed portal. One thin, dark-skinned hand emerges from beneath her hide wrap, flashing in a series of signals. 'They know. One wishes to eat. Hostile-attack or peace-talk?'
ST:
OOOOHH YEEAAAAAH!
From beyond the wall, two constructs of questionable origin koolaid man their way into the hallway.
"Hungry!"
They hangry.
"I eat?" One questions.
"I eat?" The other retorts. Massive with boulder-like teeth, blunt and large, one of them with a forge for a belly, the other smooth, both with glowing eyes like embers set in gunmetal gray.
Supplies, Motherbuckets!
Zyla blinks as she sees the construct but then it is a battle and battle to her is worshipping her god, it is what you get when you follow the Lord of Battle. She doesn't hesitate, she focuses her inner ki and electricity ripples across her skin as she moves and strikes at one of the constructs but misses.
Raethon takes a deep breath as Zyla rushes forward. "Well...that takes away one idea I had." He then shakes his head. "So we'll go to plan B." He says as he lifts his staff.....and stamps it on the stairs. The symbol of a clock starting to go faster and faster appears under them all....but the golems aren't any faster......
Lunging backward as the wall caves in, Alba throws her wrap open, hands curled into grasping claws. Chanting a rapid-fire series of mind-wrenching words, she pulls her hands up... and the floor seems to crack noiselessly, crumbling away to reveal a lightless void, from which a multitude of man-sized, purple-black tentacles come wrathing upward, seeking purchase. One finds one of the golems, and with unnatural speed loops around it, causing the stone to creak and crumble.
Kiroth takes a moment to use his banesight on the construct to know if the one in front of Zyla is evil or not. It's not and he moves up to stand next to her to try to draw the construction attention with his bright metal body. Jealous much...nothing gleams like a freshly washed Paladin.
As the two GOLEMS burst through the wall, Gwendolyn is caught unprepared. It's like she's not very perceptive.
"By the Holy Father!" She gasps, agape. "They want to /eat/ us?"
The explosion of actions both by the constructs and the party come in a flurry of movement and black tentacles, Latenat whips into action drawing his weapons in a hummingbird-swift movement. His eyes hard and lips pursed in a grimace he moves the blades into a defensive posture waiting for the moment to strike where he will be of the most use.
ST:
Apparently Top1 has decided that he eats, after all. With a mashing of its face into Zyla, those rounded, blunt, terribly painful teeth clamp down on the meatiest bit it can find of the woman, and it does its level best to -eat her-. As it's ramming her arm all the way down its gullet, it stops and stares toward the other construct, as though to ask it how, exactly, to get this thing into its belly. It's about that time, however, that black tentacles begin to twine around the beefy, furnace-bellied thing. There is no emotion on either of their faces, but the confusion to their limited minds is clearly evident in the pause of action as Top1 more or less regurgitates Zyla's arm, freeing it for her use once again.
"Very hungry." The tethered creature allows to the party, perhaps believing it might be there to help. In some roundabout way, maybe they are. Its jaw hinges open as though it were yawning, radiating heat from somewhere within, a dim light trickling free of corded throat as the embers in the furnace blaze, casting campfire ghoststory shadows up over its alien visage. It stares at Alba for long moments, jaw still unhinged like a snake prepared to feast, eyes wide as it contemplates just how tasty she might be.
"... Negative."
Apparently Alba is not to its liking.
Acquiring target.
The jaw twitches as it spies Kiroth getting dangerously close, the armour he wears making him terribly appealing. There is a gleam in the creature's eyes; oh yes. We have a winner.
"Affirmative. Please, proceed in an orderly fashion. Consumption will begin in approximately 10 seconds."
"9..." The other states.
"8..." The first.
"7..." They offer in concert.
The giantborn monk feels the the spell speeding her up and smiles a bit. She speeds up a little more as she launches into a flurry, tassles flying as her fists do. First her leg snaps out in a trip but it doesn't succeed. Then she locks both hands together and brings it down in a powerful strike but misses as well, then another punch and it hits soundly,"No biting, Korites are bad for indegestion," she says and two more punches but they fail to hit.
Seeing the golem barrel through Zyla, Rae does the first thign on his mind and casts a spell. In this case, he flies up into the air, but he starts to observe everything while hanging up there. "I don't believe it. No wonder the wizard said he messed up. it's a tophet. If any of you have adamantine, it'll bite into it a bit better than normal weapons. And it's immune to fire."
When the golem pulls free of the tentacles, Alba tips back her head, looking a gravelly shriek in the shape of words that have no proper translation. Then behind her mask, her mouth seems to unhinge, loosing a cloud of buzzing, furious wasps that hover around her in a dense cloud, protecting her from any eventual roughing-up.
The moment comes, Latenat is no virtuoso with a blade but he knows how to spot a weakness, and a moment, and when to take advantage of it,"HYA!" the rogue shouts as he flashes his rapier teatrically, his parrying dagger held in readiness as sparks skirl across its side drawing its attention for the nonce... giving Zyla the opportunity to strike at its rear. A wicked grin flares itself across his now bared teeth as he follows this effort with a targetted attack that peirces its armored hide... token damage, but letting it now that he is not to be unerestimated.
Kiroth is inside of the construct and he never thought that this would happen to him. It is lucky for him that he has a magical cape. "Left 15 feet." He says as he gives the commend word and the cape wraps around him before he poofs into smoke. He appears in a puff of smoke 15 feet away from the construct that just ate him. He moves his hand up to his chest and lets some healing energy pour over him.
"Good sir!" Gwendolyn's permanent smile dims marginally as one of the giant golems eats one of her fighting compatriots, moving in with an emerald flash of 'steel' as her blade flashes once (for a fairly wide and off-center swing) and twice, and then, magically hasted, her arm blurs for a third swing, baced by the heavy shield in her other arm bearing the symbol of a sunburst. At least two hits! "Evil creature or no - it's morally wrong to eat another living, sentient creature! You shall cease this instant!"
ST:
CHOO-CHOO!
Top1 decided that it doesn't like those wormy tentacles -- perhaps it is a schoolgirl, and has read the forums, and knows what awaits it if it isn't careful -- whatever the reason, the giant creature comes barrelling through the hallway like a Black Friday shopper after an announcement is made that there's only 5 playstations left.
The sound is terrible, and the countdown to eating continues over it all; the charging causes the cracking of the floors below the group, threatening to splinter the entire thing to send them all to whatever it is that lurks below them in the depths of an old hermit wizard's tower. I doubt anyone is in a hurry to find out.
Top2 continues to decide that Alba looks repulsive as an option for cuisine.
With jaw still unhinged, Zyla out of the way, and that beautifully gleaming paladin -right here-, it lumbers toward Kiroth, drags him low with his massive, lock-iron jaw and begins to swallow the man whole, mouthful by mouthful, stuffing him into a belly that segments and distends with the new contents. There is the grinding of metal on stone, the crimping of his armour, the cracking of bone as he is rent and broken by the clamping of those rounded molar-like munchers. The furnace, outside the belly, blazes brightly -- to the outside world, it may, in fact, seem as though that is the end of our brave paladin.
Brave, eaten, shiny, probably ashy paladin.
Top1 turns around, his mouth now gaping wide, the look almost one of shock, as though he were devestated he was beaten to the punch.
What a bastard.
"Desist." The furnance-bellied Construct announces, apparently to nobody in particular. "Your struggle is..." Its body jumps and bucks, grinding with a moment of confusion as it stares at the puff of smoke that was, mere moments ago, within its iron belly. It looks down toward its belly, something that requires more than a little effort, the grate that closed within its mouth snapping open with ferocity as its gaze fires back up to Kiroth.
"I must insist you return to your previous location and await further instruction." It buzzes.
"I eat." The other insists, staring at the well-armoured Paladin that has freed himself.
It's about that time that the mighty adamant blade cuts into the hardened exterior of Top1, and its opinion changes. Though it does not feel the pain, it certainly recognizes the damage that brings one of its arms useless to its side. It turns to face Gwendolyn, a plate on its face twisting, receeding into a hollow, turning with a clicking grind, before it is replaced with an angrier expression, mouth still gaping. In short:
D:<
Oil and sparks in equal measure begin to fizz and spit out of the gaping wound, a volatile mix that can't end well for anybody.
Zyla really did not like being trampled over after being bitten. She gets into a better position thanks to Latenat moving in. She goes postal on the thing, linking her hands togehter and bringing the fist down, and misses. She growls a bit and slams her fist into the wound that Gwendolyn made ripping into it with her fist, and then another fist that misses, then another that hits though not as soundly as the first time she struck but she isn't done yet and she slams her fist one more time at the construct and her fist goes to the same place it did before dropping the construct as it starts to fall apart from the rain of blows.
Seeing the other tophet fall, Rae's attention slides to the other one. Thankfully, no one is near it, so he uses this opportunity to aim his staff at it. "I'll see what I can do about giving you guys a head start. ZAAAAA-KAIRE!" *ZZZZZAP-BOOOM*
Foot-long adamant blades ring, as Alba flits through the air, cackling low under her breath. Then, the blackened razors hiss as she arcs down, then up again, throwing sparks off the creature's hide... but apparently not putting in enough power to actually *cut* the creature.
Joining in on the combat mosh pit that is the second golem's world (As the only logical next step) Latenat cannot avail of his usual prescision based tactics, the points of his blade glancing off shifting armor plates as the melee skirls back and forth chaotically.
Kiroth find himself once more in the stomach of the construct and he'd tired of it. He slashes at it's insides and as the sound of metal tearing metal fills the air. He cuts his way out of it. He steps out of the constructs belly and turns to face it once more.
Turning as her "friend" - adventuring companion of convenience, really, but see first pose, where she is an insane paladin - escapes the stomach-hatch, Gwendolyn brings her sword around, barely bothering to aim as she lays into the second golem.
Or rather, the AIR AROUND the second golem. "Blast! Nimbleness will not avail you, construct!"
ST:
Not today, tinman!
The construct is brought down by a combination of our stalwart companions! Fists now covered in oil and hydraulic fluids, the thing breaks apart, and from inside comes a new treasure, like a geode!
That is to say, the wizard comes launching out of the inside like a jack-in-the-box, fired down the hallway past the group with a girly scream that could put to shame 4 year olds in princess dresses at Disney World that've been told it's time to go back to the room; a rainbow rocket to Screwitville, USA, his tyedye robe creating a beautiful comet of colours as the silky fabric flutters around him in his unexpected flight, until he lands with a thump and skids down the runner leaving back out into the spire's grand hall proper.
There's groaning, but no movement.
A mistake, indeed.
Ting-ting-scratch!
Top2 ignores the slashing, swiping strikes of the cackling witch that does her level best to help out the beautiful, sparkly paladin. "Return and await further instruction." It repeats, before lunging forward to chow down on Kiroth a second time, tossing its head back in some odd rotation of gyros, before swallowing him down again, effectively keeping him on lockdown.
Maybe next time he'll try to be less pretty.
"Very good." It intones, "Further instructions incoming:"
"Perish.
D:<
Kiroth, however, seems to be in a rebellious sort of mood, and hacks his way free of the belly, bursting it wide and spilling forth like the horrifying, shiny-plated chest-burster he is.
"Unacceptable." It reprimands. "Perish." It repeats.
As Gwendolyn moves to begin a dance of blades that will leave her spurned like the wiltingest wallflower at prom, Top2's head turns toward her, an arm lifted to bring a hand up in a stopping motion. "Desist." Scratch-scratch-screech goes her blade off the armour, mouth still wide despite the face that it can no longer properly consume the party like it wishes to.
"Desis--" Interrupted by another slash.
"Desis--..." Ting!
"... Desist."
Zyla took down the one construct and see the rest gathered around the other. She takes the moment to reflect on and then calls on her ki to speed her healing, some of her wounds closing up as she heals a bit.
Rae takes a deep breath. "Mmm.....If it's immune to fire....." He says before he points his staff at it. 3 orbs of blue fly out of it and thud soundly into the chest of the construct....
Frustrated, Alba flits back and forth in the air, fingers scoring over the metallic hide to no good effect. "BLEED YOU METALLIC WETLANDER!" she shrieks, fury bubbling in her voice. "OPEN YOUR ARMOR SKIN AND //BLEED!//"
Kiroth moves with the speed granted to him by Raethon's haste spell as his blade slashes through the armor plating of the construct. He leaves more rents in the construct, but it seems determined to keep going.
Lat be nible Lat be quick, Lat might as well be wacking with a stick! The rapier is not the best weapon for this situation, especially not the way he is using it with brutal short slashes that bring naught but sparks to the constructs metallic skin and tears to the eyes of the great fencing masters.
One thing he does keep in mind is to keep light on his feet, the way this thing is striking out means it could lay some major hurt on him if a hit connected. There is no glory in this, just a means to an end as they take apart the nonliving thing, not even self aware like the Warforged.
The large construct was posing a threat - not just to the surroundings and the person who had sent them here, but to Gwendolyn's allies. Her flurry of initial blows had eaten nothing but air, but her second flurry is backed by conviction! And faith!
And no small amount of reckless luck.
She sweeps in, with her adamant sword, striking first a the legs, potentially sweeping one clean off with a loud cry, before a horizontal cut, and a final lunge straight to the core.
ST:
"Negatory." The construct replies to Alba.
At that time, it tries once more to eat Kiroth, despite the fact that it no longer has the holding available to keep him within. Instead, it merely chomps down and jerks him to the side like a dog with a ragdoll.
Some little girl will be very sad.
Scritch-scritch!
Alba wails away.
"Gorge has no blood to bleed. Your request is illogical." It continues, even as the others strike away, kicking up sparks here and there as metal skirts along the hide that has kept it standing for so very long. It speaks through a mouthful of Kiroth, of course, being unaware of the finer points of Alexandrian etiquette; clearly, it needs to be reprogrammed.
Perhaps the moaning heap of leprechaun vomit over there could oblige.
"Oh, -Gods-," It groans from beyond the group, even as they're still trying to bring down the remaining construct. "Would you might awfully keeping it DOWN??"
He's very thankful for the aid.
"I have QUITE a headache, you know!"
No, really. So good to see you all.
"This is why I built them in the first place! People are so -pointless-, smelly, loud, stupid..."
Tell us how you really feel.
"Ugly, with their skin and their dying and their rottin--I miss my wife." He laments. And begins to sob.
Apparently screaming is not the only thing he does like a girl.
As Gwendolyn continues to strike with the fury of a most forgiving and holy of Gods, its vocal capacity begins to fade and the words slur out in a dribble of sound, until there is nothing more.
"People are meat. Meat is food. People... are... FFfFFFffoooOOo..." The light in its eyes flickers, gutters and goes dim.
Dead.
The wizard sits now, knees up at his chest, hands covering his face as he wails away his sorrows, battered and bruised, his fine wears tattered and dirtied by soot and the grime of the inner machinations of these monstrous beasts. He gasps in a sharp breath, before heaving out something:
"I." GASP. "JUST." WHEEZE. "WANT." PANT.
"LO-HA-HOOOVE!"
The heroes have saved the day, the contract is completed, and there is, as always, more nightmare fuel added to the blazing uncertainty of the reality in which we all live here on Ea.
~ Fin