Dana Come, Me Wan' Go Home

Log Info

• Title: Dana Come, Me Wan' Go Home
• Emitter: Jinks
• Characters: Aryia, Culix, Paenitia, Smuldur, Venom
• Place: Essence wilderness farm, Greater Alexandros
• Time: Monday, November 1, 2021, 11:00 AM
• Summary: Eustangellabledine Kikniddledern meets the mercenaries at the city's western gates, requiring an escort as she's been tasked by the temples to retrieve supplies for their collection efforts. The gnome rides an awful-smelling, grotesquely fat pony and is her usual blathering self. The trip out to the farm is uneventful (but cold and wet) and they find the Essence, Dani, and her son playing in the muddy farm. The adventurers quickly realize something is wrong and soon find themselves in a life-or-death battle with a menagerie of grotesque undead! Lunches are lost, wounds are suffered, but the quintet emerges victorious. Some supplies are salvaged with the aid of Eustangellabledine and secured for the return trip to Alexandria.
• Encounter 1: CR 7, XP4200
  • (1) CR6 Deathweb XP2400,
  • (1) CR2 Huecuva XP600,
  • (1) CR4 Unrisen (young template) XP1200
• Combat Map: https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=mp0afnxg3tx

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Featuring  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Aryia      4'8"   110 Lb     Shadow Elf  Female    A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her.
Culix      3'2"   36 Lb      Goblin      Female    Beady-eyed goblin female in leathers and hood.  
Paenitia   3'0"   34 Lb      Halfling    Female    A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery.   
Smuldur    3'4"   45 Lb      Goblin      Male      A gently used (cut, scraped, burnt, exploded) gobber. 
Venom      5'6"   130 Lb     Human       Female    A woman(?) about 5'6" in a ragged black veil and poncho.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  NPCs  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Eustangellabledine           Gnome       Female    A fast-talking, copper haired, arcanist fanatic.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  As the GM  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Jinks      3'4"   39 Lb      Gnome       Male      A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

Another day, another contract. It all starts at the western gate today with a fair amount of traffic gathered seeking egress from the troubled city. Two small caravans mingle nearby, making sure they have everything important before setting out. A handful of smaller groups do the same. There's next to no arrival traffic this early in the day.

The watch are usually more interested with folks coming in than they are those going out but they still keep a somewhat-diligent eye on those setting out from Alexandria. They rely on torch- and lamplight as it seems the sun is getting a late start and dark clouds fill the sky. A chill wind blows into the city from the west carrying the occasional frigid sprinkle, a preview of the weather you'll be riding into for a good portion of your trip.

Eustangellabledine arrives atop her pony, dressed for the road and looking both impatient and annoyed. Her massive poof of copper-color hair is pulled back behind her head and bound only to explode again like a reddish-orange halo. She has a ruddy and sun-kissed complexion and wears brass-rimmed glasses that seem too big for her gnomish face. She dresses in practical road leathers with no shortage of belts and bandoliers criss-crossing her torso and waist. A small pack is strapped behind her saddle.

The pony, Chubbychunkins, is as named; prodigious in his girth. So much so that you marvel at his little pony legs keeping him upright. He also smells pungently of manure and frequently demonstrates his flatulence with no regard for common courtesy or even a modicum of decorum. There's an empty, small, one-pony cart pulled behind the animal.

Aryia arrives, wanting to follow up on the oddness that happened some weeks ago. Clad in her verdant green buckle jacket and a black mask that covers her visage from nose down. They were dealing with some kind of disease thing, after all. And doubly so she was glad to have it to guard against Chubbychunkins.

She gives a two finger salute in greeting to the gnome she knocked over a while back.

It's that gnome again! It's also that gobber again! Smuldur remembers this particular gnome's gname because it's easy. Phonetically, it's the same sound as when he sneezes. Oh-hey! He remembers the gnome-gnockerover, too! Because she gnocked over the gnome, mostly.

Smuldur skitters up to the gnome and pony show, sniffing around them and the cart. There was a big badda boom before, there could be another one. Not that it would be a deterrent; quite the opposite, in fact. Torchie is held high, its guiding flame burning bright for all!

Culix is making her way along the path- she'd heard odds and ends about the goings on, but little more than that. However, on finding out her slightly taller friend had taken the job, she'd decided to sign up for it as well. She has her cloak drawn up tightly to protect against the chill, but doesn't bother with the lanterns or torches many others are using at this hour, since her beady goblin eyes are well adjusted to the pre-dawn gloom that the cloud cover simulates.

As she draws nearer, she blows a shrill whistle to get Aryia's attention, and then makes a few hand gestures at her as she draws near enough for them to be intelligible, "So, what's all this about anyway?" <handspeech>

In due course, eventually another concealed figure arrives, a rental pony under some.. tenuous control beneath her. It isn't her preferred state of travel, but the job required the investment. With luck, she'll get her deposit back.

Silently drawing rein close to hand, the shrouded figure of Venom raises a hand in a silent wave.

Trumpets herald the arrival of a small Red Knight astride an Ivory Steed.

No. No... it's the ponyfarts.

Still, the flourish echos with a resounding flourish between the walls of the gates, startling birds and passers-by. The Red Knight has an ever-grinning face-visor to her helm, a masculine visage that contrasts the impractical and implausible feminine curves of the full plate armour. Her guantlet thunks against it, as she fails to cover her nose.

"Ramirez, we are in the farms already? I cannot see." Paenitia says, sounding muffled.

"Yesyesyes. You'rehere,fantastic,thesooneryou'reherethesoonerwego. Andnowyou'rehere!" The gnome tilts her head back and looks through the lower portion of her overlarge glasses at each arrival. Her gaze lingers a bit on Aryia; their last encounter was more physical than she generally prefers. Seesee gives a subtle 'pffffrt' in greeting and swishes his tail, readying for the road. A passing househusband carrying a satchel of groceries gags audibly and covers his face in horror, hustling down the road and choking out a pained 'Why...!?' This seems to be a cue and Eustangellabledine produces a blue-green lump of fungus and leans forward the feed the animal.

"Chubbychunkinsismakingfertilizerformynextproject. Youmaynoticeasubtlestinkoccasionallybecauseofthespecialtyformula. Thisisnormal. Heisnotatallsick." The pony's lips are foaming a bit as he chews on the treat he'd been given.

"We'regoingtoafarmtogetsupplies. Areweallreadytogo?"

The whistle gets the mute's attention, Aryia looking over and down. She smiles some, only known from it reaching her eyes. "Hey. Something about protecting this lady. She's trying to smooth stuff over from a cluster fuck some weeks ago," she answers with some motions, her gloved hands flexing for the signs. There's a glance over, and the mul straightens up at the sight of the veiled enigma. Her eyes grow brighter, yet she just gives a simple nod in greeting, as well as a wave to the others that arrive.

The elf nods to their employer, her giving a wary gaze to the donkey. With a sigh, she walks back a few steps to unhitch her rented horse that she totally didn't forget about until right now. <Handspeech>

Smuldur only has one question for the gnome, but it is a very important question. "No boom?" Aside from that, he appears to be already all ready.

The grinning mask of the red knight faces the gnome as she provides a rapid-fire review of the mission objectives and other sundry information. A moment passes without apparent reaction; a fully armoured up knight is an enigma.

"Ok!" Paenitia says decisively, "I ride at the front." She pulls on a strap, raising her banner. A light on the top illuminates it. She draws her lance and sets a lantern on the tip, then moves out in front.

There's another trumpet blast, which causes her peacock-andalusian hippogryph to rush ahead. Out in front is the right decision. Yes.

Culix nods her head as her eyes fix on Aryia's hand motions. She follows the Mul's gaze over towards the newcomer, and then quirks a brow. She offers Venom a wave in greeting. She glances between the two of them and a knowing smirk appears on her lips. "Know each other?" she wonders. <handspeech>

She blinks over at the fast-talking Gnome, and then shakes her head giving up on trying to figure out what was just said. "Oh right, thing said we need horses. Gimme a minute." she says, and then heads on over to the stables just outside the city gates to see if she can't get herself a mount for the task ahead.

The Gobber is absent for a few minutes, there's some complaining about being woken up at this hour from within. Eventually she emerges from the large stable doors, leading a light horse by the reign. "Now, lesee. Just... uh... just climb up..." se mumbles to herself.

It takes the goblin nearly as long to climb into the saddle as it took her to negotiate the purchase. She's an agile climber, but the horse is not accustomed to being clambered on.

"I bring only half the horse, but I am a halfing, so this is fine." Paenitia answers Culix.

Venom bows her head to the familiar companions amongst the group, steering her pony to some effect in joining the formation...

Ahead of the freshly loaded fume factory.

She looks to Culix and Aryia as the handsigns fly, and returns a quick, "We've met." <handspeech>

She looks toward the very goblin question put forth as, to some extent, it potentially affects her options. Back to her colleagues, she signs, "How are you doing?" <handspeech>

Aryia briskly mounts and gets in formation alongside Venom. She simply nods at the question presented, as well as when Venom answers it for her. She flashes a thumbs up at the enigma. Thankful she was for the half-mask, as it hid all of her social ticks. Namely frowns and pursed lips that like to betray her emotions.

"Noboom." Eustangellabledine answers Smuldur, quirking her mouth to one side in quiet commiseration.

"Wearereducedtogroceryshoppersandpackagedelivery. WehavetogoseeoneofthefoolishDanafollowersattheir," and here she actually does pause to give a fantastically overdone roll of the eyes (her head even lolls back a bit at their apex), "'farm.'" She takes a finger and pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"Themagistratespecificallysaidthereshouldbenoexplosions. Afrustratingfewpeopleappreciatedthesimplicityofmysolutiontothepreviousplagueproblem." Here she narrows her eyes at Aryia and Paenitia. "SuppliesgointhewagonatopanymanureproducedbySeeseeenroute. Wastenotwanttnot!" She pats the pony's flank, producing a series of expressions from the horse's rear that make him sound a novelty item. "TodaywillbetheonereprieveDanagetsbeforeIcontinuemyquesttoprovesupremacy!"

"Okay!" Paenitia says cheerfully, still sounding like she's in a well. She shakes her lance, rattling the lantern that hangs off the end. "We roll!"

'Ruaaaah!' Ramirez calls out, and they move.

For her part, Culix fidgets in her saddle and fumbles with th Reigns and all around demonstrates a distinct lack of comfort with riding the horse. Sure, she knows the theory. But there's reading about something and then there's actually doing it. Nevertheless, after a time she manages to get the horse going in the right direction- it helps that there are other horses to follow. They are herd animals, after all. It does, however, mean she has the unfortunate honor of being at the back of the pack.

She fishes around in her pockets and pouches, holding the reigns with one hand, and eventually produces a scarf which she ties around her lower face. She might look the part of the bandit wearing it, but it goes a small way towards alleviating the smell.

Venom nods quietly as the parameters are put forth, and again as Aryia draws up alongside. The offers the masked Mul a little thumbs-up, then spends a moment uncertainly patting the side of her mount, but manages to get things rolling when the caravan gets underway.

Less than an hour outside of the city the rain begins in earnest, chill and steady. The whole world seems cold and bleak-- but the smell of the rain and wet earth does wonders to smother some of the pony's stink. Another small blessing; the wind shifts to your back during the trip, coming down from the east and no longer pushing the falling drops right into your face as you ride.

It's not a quiet ride; the fungal farmer has no shortage of shouted opinions to offer on the 'so-called farming practices of Dana's misguided adherents.' They are, apparently, barely-kept wilderness full of vermin and an unreliable source of specific items at specific yields. 'Slapdash' is one of the more polite words she uses during the trip. She introduces you to her 'nature versus nurture' theory on cultivation and promises that her harvests unfailingly provide the desired items at the desired quantities. (Nevermind about the time she was found near-death in her home or something called an 'asconoid' that likely still needs seeing to.)

She still speaks in that breathless, rapidfire ramble and it's only made worse by the fact that her pony is doing all the work on the road. Chubbychunkins, for his part, punctuates many of the gnome's points with an acrid toot, tail flapping up an swishing to-and-fro to distribute the stink in his wake. Eustangellabledine either remains entirely in front of or complete unfazed by the smell.

Culix, for her part, can't seem to sit still on her mount. Less than fifteen minutes into the ride she's fidgeting, "My arse is already sore. How do people ride these all day?" she whines, but keeps pace all the same. Given that they are ostensibly the Gnome's escort, mind, she does at least keep her eyes peeled. Her oilcloth cloak helps to deflect some of the rain, but even so it's dawn up tight. Her crossbow rests on her lap, under the cloth, to protect its windings from the rain.

Aryia pulls out a tightly folded grey cloak as the rain begins, her donning it to ward off the chilly rain. Thankful she was for it despite the cold, it helped smother that horrid stench.

The gnome's ramblings were either tolerated or outright ignored, her a bit busy with staying vigilant on the road ahead. And around them. Thankfully the rain masked many of the stolen glances towards her formation partner.

It isn't long before the reasoning behind Venom's general preference on caravan guard detail is to ride on the wagon, rather than commit to her own mount comes into some focus. She doesn't have much experience with it, and it takes her a little longer to get her horse under control of any squirrely notions than it would a practiced rider.

The rain soaks through her hair, and matts her veils to the irregular, rough leather undermask she has strictly buckled about her face beneath it, though her own oilcloth garments otherwise shield her from the elements, and any real complaints she has are left as inner monologue.

All told, she does try to keep watch on their surroundings as they move, and any surrepitous glances to anyone in particular would likely be veiled by her accoutremants with air of the precipitous windfall.

The 'plink', 'plink' of rain on heavy armour turns into a steady rattle, eventually causing the Red Knight to ask, "The rain, she is coming down?" Sitting inside a dull roar, Paenitia stares ahead into the darkness, moving her lantern from side to side in the hopes she sees something before her bobbing lights attract the something.

"It is simple," She answers the gobbo, "you do not sit. You are stand in the crouch all day long with the thighs spread. The leg muscles get the workout." Quite the challenge in her case.

Ramirez moves from proudly strutting along the road to more of a mope. His feathers become heavy with water, his tail starts to drag. His bright white feathers and hair becomes dark and muddy with the road splatter.

The trip is unpleasant due to the weather (and, perhaps, the company) but uneventful.

The Essence's concern is little more than a stone's throw from a well-traveled side road-- and maybe only a half dozen miles from the gnome's own farm, Eustangellabledine explains. So there's no trouble at all finding it. You'd guess it's midday when you do though the sun's still eclipsed by a sky full of dark, heavy rainclouds.

Tall posts flank the turnoff and a yurt sits in plain view nearby. The side path continues past the round, sturdy tent-link building on a subtle decline and terminates in the fields beyond. The road and path, both, have turned to mud after a whole morning of wet weather.

The fields have an odd look to them, darker than you'd expect in patches with other sections carpeted in a fuzzy white layer that flutters in the wind and glitters, rain-kissed. Surface water gathers in large puddles.

A tall figure in hooded, dirty green robes stands in a dark patch of vegetation, nearly motionless as they watch a child in bulky winter clothes running through and splashing in the standing water.

"Hah,youcallthatafarmDana!? IcountthedaysuntilIholdyourseatintheCradleofNature! I'msoooooembarassedforyou." Observes the gnome. 'Pbbblt,' aggrees her pony.

"Hola the Farm!" The Red Knight calls out, "We are here to watch the gnome deliver the fertilizer."

Or exchange, or pickup. That's the mission, something to do with the cart, she believes. Her hippogryph makes an uncomfortable whicker noise, and shuffles beneath her.

"Ramirez has the delivery to make also. Where you want him put it?"

As they start to slow onto the destination, Aryia casts her gaze about the farm, a snowy brow raising. Finally, they arrived. The kid playing in the water in the distance gives a light smile to flick across her hidden lips.

The chiding from their employer makes the mute sigh. Right. Hopefully they wouldn't return empty handed. Thankfully they had the Knight with them.

Culix simply sulks at Paenitia's reccomendation. Spend the whole day in a half squat? That sounds like straight up torture. She keeps to herself for the remainder of the ride, but once they arrive at the farm she's only too happy to climb- carefully- out of the saddle. She hesitates, hanging off the saddle, as she looks down at the mud. And then sighs and jumps down into it, it splatters all over her legs and she shudders. She does a sort of bow-leked shufffle to work the aches out of her lower limbs, and then rubs her bottom to try and get rid of the ache there.

Smuldur doesn't mind the journey. Sure it's wet, sure it's muddy, but feet wash! Or so he's been told. Easiest way to keep away leg and other pain from riding? Walk, don't ride! Since they're supposed to be watching someone move things around with something else, he scamper/sludges forward, still bearing the Torch of Brightness. Not just for him, but for all. He can see just fine. Torchie isn't just about illumination, afterall!

Venom remains reasonably calm, though there is a slight pivot of her head toward the side of her employer as her overclocked vocal feedback system issues forth new potential complications in what would otherwise be a faily straightforward operation.

There is a long, slow breath exhaled through the moist veils, and the though crosses the shrouded mind as to whether the Gnome intends to provoke a response that would... sadly vacate the proposed seat for her ascension.

The robed woman is the Essence you seek. She pushes back the hood as she turns, revealing straw-blonde hair and a face only just touched by the wrinkles of middle age. A simple tin representation of Ygdrassil hangs from a thong around her neck and an empty scabbard for a curve-bladed sword is strapped to the back of her wide leather belt.

The bottom of her robes is caked with dark mud and the damp creeps up the fabric.

She glances back to the child playing and then considers you again, her expression passive-- or maybe puzzled? "Hello," she greets, the word raspy as she finds her voice and takes a few steps closer.

<OOC> Jinks is now accepting Perception checks! "Also Kn.Nature or Survival if available. I will also entertain other rolls if requested!"
GAME: Culix rolls perception: (15)+9: 24
GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (1)+22: 23 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Venom rolls perception: (19)+13: 32
GAME: Smuldur rolls perception: (15)+10: 25
GAME: Culix rolls knowledge/nature: (9)+6: 15
GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (2)+5: 7
GAME: Paenitia rolls survival: (7)+2: 9
GAME: Paenitia rolls knowledge/local: (11)+11: 22
Jinks paged (Aryia, Culix, Smuldur, Venom) with ‘There's something wrong with the woman's feet-- beyond the fact that it's cold and wet and she's walking through the mud barefoot. It's hard to see through the mud and wet but they look diseased or withered somehow.’
Jinks paged (Smuldur, Venom) with ‘There's an odd rise in the ground near where the child plays. Like a large grave, maybe, or someone's covered a trapdoor. Also, the gossamer-white flitting in the vegetation are spiderwebs. Lots and lots of spiderwebs.’
Jinks paged Venom with ‘Even with all the layers of clothing you can tell there's something wrong with that child. It doesn't move like a child. When it turns enough and you can see its face it looks raw and deformed.’
Jinks paged Culix with ‘This portion of the field where they stand has gone to rot. Nothing there is salvagable and you'd assume anyone trying to eat from it would be ill.’
Jinks paged Paenitia with ‘The yurt is an unusual building but a strong, semi-permanent structure for the more wildnerness-ly inclined. Sadly, this one has not been kept properly; the sides and roof have sections the flap, unsecured in the wind. The drape across the doorway just barely hangs in place. Not the sort of state you'd expect to find something in with people actually living there. Especially not one of Dana's followers.’

Chubbychunkins has taken this moment to relieve himself. Which makes Eust react as if it were the Gathering. She hops down from the saddle, snatches a large sack, and pulls on two oversized gloves before commencing collection. Thankfully, this provides a distraction that will likely make talks easier. Unfortunately, her jubilation at literal shit work might prove an interruption of attention some.

Culix looks up from her shuffle-dance as she's greeted and then she stands up properly. She frowns a bit, titling her head quizzically. "Hey there you uh- alright?" she wonders. "Awful cold to be wandering around barefoot." she says to the woman. She casts a sidways glance towards Aryia, then, and surreptitiously sends a couple of hand signals her way.

"The whole field's rotten, poisonous. Something stinky here, worse than that horses farts." She gestures. <handspeech>

Aryia is keeping a careful eye out on things. Clearly. Making sure no one sneaks up on their flank. More specifically the flank that Venom is assigned to. Something in her head makes her check herself, a wet, gloved hand slapping against her forehead. She shakes her head, and looks towards Eust. Her head tilts down some, then cants off to the side. "... weird," she motions with a hand, nodding in agreement with Culix. <Handspeech>

"Cold? Torchie warm up!" Smuldur starts scamper-schlupping towards Essence? Dana? Dana Essence? He leads with Torchie.

See? He isn't -just- about setting things on fire and/or hitting things with things that are on fire... thus setting them on fire.

Though that -would- warm them up, too...

Jinks paged Smuldur with ‘Something about this place... the yurt Paenitia just pointed out; it's construction failing. The posts are old and starting to sag in the ground. How can Reos be Divine when so much of creation is so transitory? It's an unsettling question...’
Jinks paged Smuldur with ‘I'll need a Will save when you're back, too, please.’

Venom's dips her chin as things about.... ugh, anything but the invocation of There Can Be Only Dung- start to synch up wrong in her thinking parts.

A hand lowers to her side and she signs to the Mul'niessa and Culix, "Something's twisting them. The kid has it worse. It might be that..." her hand pauses for a moment, then resumes, "There's some kind of covered hole she's playing near. Maybe a spider nest, that's web out there. A lot of it." <handspeech>

Once stilled, her hand dips under her poncho...

Fingers find a butt...

The thumb finds a hammer.

"Hold." Paenitia says suddenly, gesturing at the yurt.

The yurt is an interesting and unusual building. Sadly, this one has not been kept properly; the sides and roof have sections the flap, unsecured in the wind. The drape across the doorway just barely hangs in place.

"This not in the state for people living in. The Dana followers not let it get this bad." Although, Essence's presence would contradict that. Unless, "There the things amiss."

She calls out, "Hola young one, come here."

"Dani," the Essence offers, raising a hand to her sternum. "Welcome." She stands at the edge of the fields at the end of the path past her home and to the roads. She pauses, puzzled, and looks between the gestures exchanged. "My son is fine. Leave him be. Our house is humble but enough. Dana is dead, She is not here. She rots with Animus and spoils the ground..."

You can actually hear Eustangellabledine's attention snap from the dungpile before she's splashing through the mud, around the pony, and wiping he sleeves on her glasses to stare across at the Essence. "YousaidDanaisdead? When? IsHerseatvacant? Youshouldbecomeoneofmyflock. IwillgrantyouthegreatestboonswhenIascend!"

Aryia heeds the others' warnings, her getting one boot out of a stirrup as she tightens her gloves. Seeing her fellow mute's movement, she tenses some, doubly so at the news. And her employer's lack of heeding the Knight's directive.

Culix's frown remains and she looks between the Goblin and the Essence. She tilts her head to the side a bit, and she speaks quietly, hopefully so that only those nearby can hear. "I don't really know what's going on here, but I don't like it." she murmurs. Her own hands come down, pushing open her cloak some, and revealing the stock of her own crossbow- though she doesn't pull it free just yet- doesn't want to cause hostilities, after all.

<OOC> Paenitia says, "okay, I'd like to fly on Ramirez and circle the area, overflying the kid, then returning to where I am. 60' movement, should take 4 or 5 rounds at least."
<OOC> Paenitia says, "like 10' off the ground so anything liable to attack dos so"
GAME: Smuldur rolls will: (14)+2: 16
You paged Smuldur with ‘You raise the torch as you draw near the woman, you can smell the rot from the fields even through the rain. The warm glow of the fire takes the color out of her robes and reveals them tattered. Her face is withered and ruined, lipless and hollow at the nose. Her eyes are just ruined puddles of dried jelly in their sockets. A spider crawls through a hole where he cheek was and disappears around the back of her head.’
<OOC> Jinks says, "Gimme another Perception check, Pae, and a Fort save, please."

"Ramirez need to stretch his wings." Paenitia announces.

'Ruaaah?' He does. He didn't know this.

"Stay back, it will be mud when the water fly off and we leave the ground." The Red Knight makes a few clicks to get her hippogryph trotting and then he does take to the air. Flying low the peacock-andalusian circles the edge of the farm, heading upwards over the webs and ponds, passing over the woman's son, and finally catching a bit more elevation to glide over the party before landing on the road again.

As she does, she sees what she can see and makes for a tempting target.

GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (15)+5: 20
GAME: Paenitia rolls fort+1: (5)+9+1: 15
<OOC> Jinks says, "Gimme one for Ramirez, too, please."
GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+8: (1)+8: 9 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4: (3): 3
<OOC> Jinks says, "Paenitia passes, Ramirez fails and is Nauseated for 3 rounds."

Smuldur blinks as he peers at Dani under the glow of Torchie's Magnificent Illumination. TMI reveals all!

"Need more than warm feet! Need spider out of face! More face in face!"

Luckily, Torchie might be able to help with that, too!

GAME: Aryia rolls initiative: 18 + 5 = 23
GAME: Smuldur rolls initiative: 11 + 3 = 14
GAME: Venom rolls initiative: 15 + 4 = 19
GAME: Culix rolls initiative: 13 + 4 = 17
GAME: You roll initiative for Dani: Roll: 11 + Bonus: +6 = Total: 17
GAME: You roll initiative for Kiddo: Roll: 4 + Bonus: +5 = Total: 9
GAME: You roll initiative for Webster: Roll: 6 + Bonus: +6 = Total: 12
GAME: Paenitia rolls initiative: 13 + 3 = 16
GAME: You roll initiative for Eust: Roll: 19 + Bonus: +6 = Total: 25

Within the effective oilcloth teepee with the veiled head sticking out of it, a gloved thumb tenses, and an arming lever pivots some degrees along it's axis, pausing at the first notch of resistance.

Above that, the veiled head in question shakes once to either side as people start getting squirrely, but she doesn't have enough information to get preemptive, yet. A look to Aryia, then Culix...

Smuldur's cry makes the 'Essence' recoil and lift a hand to ward away the torch's glow. "This is OUR HOME! Leave us!"

Paenitia takes to the air and sees it from above as described; a large earthen flap in the wet ground. Like a natural door obscured by the rotting vegetation, puddles, and blanketed spiderwebs.

Worse than that, the paladina draws the attention of the child playing in the rain and mud. It looks up, its face pulling free of a scarf and its hood falling back to reveal some half-formed, unborn abomination. A good portion of the upper-face and skull is missing, rotting meat and insides exposed as a nesting ground for spiders. It's missing the lower portion of its jaw and the upper teeth are wicked fangs half-obscured by tattered meat that was never lips. Its nose and cheek look like a half-melted wax impression of those features.

<OOC> Aryia says, "aryia will attempt to dismount quickly"
GAME: Aryia rolls ride: (1)+5: 6 (EPIC FAIL)
<OOC> Jinks says, "Fast dismount is DC20. There is no critical failure on skill checks. Just means she dismounts as a move as normal."
<OOC> Aryia does not do it briskly and lands awkwardly. "Standard to move towards Smuldur."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Will save for me, please."
GAME: Aryia rolls will: (12)+7: 19
<OOC> Aryia says, "+4 if enchantment"
Jinks paged Aryia with ‘You splash through the mud as you draw nearer the woman, you can smell the rot from the fields even through the rain. The warm glow of the torch's fire takes the color out of her robes and reveals them tattered. Her face is withered and ruined, lipless and hollow at the nose. Her eyes are just ruined puddles of dried jelly in their sockets. Spiders crawl beneath the tattered robes.’

Aryia sits upright at the yelling, her nodding towards Venom and trying to get out of her seat, but gets her foot caught in a stirrup. Her boots activate, making her do an awkward flip in the air to make her land on her feet, but her face smacks into the saddle. "...f-ck..." she curses, rubbing at her face as she jogs up towards Smuldur, seeing what the issue wa-

She pauses.

"Ok you can go boom now," she gestures to Smuldur, accompanied with 'pewwww, baboom' noises behind the mask to accentuate her point. <Handspeech>

<OOC> Venom says, "dismount, drawing belcher, holding until an overt action is taken by the locals"

Well, that did it.

Following Aryia's lead on the need to be more reliably mobile (sorry Petunia), Venom takes her time dismounting, hand releasing the grip on the hip gun to pull the longarm from her back and here, her thumb draws back the quasi-artifice weapon's arming hammer back fully with three ratcheting clicks, but she, as yet, doesn't fire.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Go ahead and take your readied action. Dani is going to charge Smuldur."
<OOC> Venom says, "what's the range to her?"
<OOC> Jinks says, "looks like 40'"
<OOC> Venom says, "inside the first range increment, so touch attack, but not within point blank shot"
GAME: Venom rolls weapon3: (9)+11: 20
<OOC> Venom says, "and i do have precise shot"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Hit! Damage. And I need to know properties of the attack (if any)"
<OOC> Venom says, "it's a normal bludgeoning/piercing round"
GAME: Venom rolls 1d12: (8): 8
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+6: (19)+6: 25
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3
<OOC> Jinks says, "Smuldur, gimme a Fort, please."
GAME: You damaged Smuldur for 3 points. 30 HP remaining.
GAME: Smuldur rolls fort: (6)+7: 13
<OOC> Jinks says, "Good enough!"

The Essence lets out a bone-chilling shriek as her warning is ignored. She splashes forward, tearing across the muddy ground in a frenzy and hardly staggering when the firearm shot clips her shoulder. Her fingers curl into claws and she puts her whole slight frame into a cross that draws shallow rents on Smuldur's cheek. The wounds itch and burn but only momentarily.

<OOC> Culix says, "Alright, so there's nothing nearby I could use for cover or concealment?"
<OOC> Jinks says, "You can use the posts if you'd like. We can say visibility is lousy enough between the rain and what have you."
<OOC> Culix says, "Alright, I'll move up to cover and attempt to establish stealth. Drawing my crossbow as part of my move. Then I'll fire the crossbow at Dani."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Roll the Stealth"
GAME: Culix rolls stealth: (9)+15: 24
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+5: (4)+5: 9
GAME: Culix rolls weapon19: (13)+9: 22
<OOC> Culix says, "vs FF"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Hits, damage."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Also need to know if there're any special properties in play."
GAME: Culix rolls damage19+2d6: aliased to 1d10+0+2d6: (10)+0+(6): 16
<OOC> Culix says, "10 is Piercing, 6 is Precision"
<OOC> Culix says, "No magic or special material."
<OOC> Culix says, "Can I also roll to Recall Monster Lore?"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Oh, you're close enough. Gimme a Will."
GAME: Culix rolls will: (18)+1: 19
You paged Culix with ‘You splash through the mud as you fall against (and hide behind) the signpost, you can smell the rot from the fields even through the rain. The warm glow of the torch's fire takes the color out of her robes and reveals them tattered. Her face is withered and ruined, lipless and hollow at the nose. Her eyes are just ruined puddles of dried jelly in their sockets. Spiders crawl beneath the tattered robes.’
<OOC> Jinks says, "It'd be Kn. Religion if you've got it!"
GAME: Culix rolls knowledge/religion: (16)+6: 22
You paged Culix with ‘This is a huecuva. A former-cleric of a god who forsook their faith in death and rose to blaspheme. They're able to cloak themselves in illusions to appear alive and look to shake the faith of believers. They're relatively weak undead but somewhat sturdy against attacks that are not magic or silver.’
<OOC> Jinks says, "Big Pae! Ramirez is down to a single move but you're able to act normally."
<OOC> Paenitia says, "okay well have him move up"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "yes. I'm going to drop my lance and take out my bow and try some ranged things"
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon1: (16)+13: 29
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage1: aliased to 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7

Culix sweeps her cloak wide with a flick of one arm, and dashes forwards, splashing through the mud behind her as she stoops low. The crossbow is pulled around and braced against her shoulder as she skids to a stop pressing her back to the signpost by the side of the road and she takes a breath. She immediately regrets this, as she retches silently, force of will alone keeping her from makind a noise and giving away her position.

Her stomach settles after a moment, and she chances a peek around the signpost, taking a shot with her crossbow at the creature. It sings through the falling rain, and lands true in her center mass.

Culix shouts, aboce the din of the rainfall or so she hopes. "It's a Huecuva! Use silver or holy water if you got it!"

As the knight and hippogryph circle over the farm, Ramirez is overcome by the stench. Who knew that a close association with Chubbychunkins would have enured them against this, but they shunned his companionship and paid the cost.

In the interests of protecting Ramirez's dignity, for he is a brave and proud horse that is also half-bird, we shall look away. We shall ignore his sudden discomfort and naseauted feelings, and the explosive relief of them. At both ends. Look away, dear reader, the vacation of a hippogryph is not suitable fantasy fare.

Look away harder.

Paenitia swoons in the saddle, almost overcome herself. "Fly. Keep fly. Easy. You are ok. Be ok." She pats at Ramirez's neck. Her armour protects her somewhat, but once the reeking air has filled it, there is no escape. She can be heard coughing, hard enough that her Smiling Man's mask makes a little ring as the visor falls back into place.

Her lance slips from her grasp, taking with it her light. The Dark Knight retrieves her bow, flips open the top of the saddle's quivver. Her fingers close on a fletching and she coaxes her mount, "Fly easy, up higher, we get out of the smell. Steady Ramirez, you are the good boy."

Beneath her is... what might once have been a child and now is a nest of spiders with a once-human shell. She looses an arrow into it, and it sticks.

She still feels sick.

<OOC> Smuldur will get angry as free, make torchie Flaming (well, more flaming) as swift and try to bonk the spiders out of Dani's faces
GAME: Smuldur RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 8 temporary HP
<OOC> Smuldur also has unhinged rage. Foes in 30' need to make a will save or be shaken. Assuming they can be shaken.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Sadly, they've already been stirred."
GAME: Smuldur rolls melee+2+1: (5)+7+2+1: 15
GAME: Smuldur rolls 1d2+strength+2+1d6 fire: (2)+2+2+(6 fire): 12

Smuldur does not like unexpected charges! Hidden fees are always evil!

He snarls. He slavers! He flatulates. The first two are kind of scary, and the last one travels up and, like a breath of fresh air, causes Torchies Radiance to INCREASE A HALF-DOZENFOLD as it flares to life!

"Ahh!" Smuldur declares as he bonks Dani (and/or the spider) in the face, making Dani (and/or the spider) collapse into a pile of ... stuff.

Just like anything else burning hot and bright, Torchie returns to its usual luminous luminosity afterwards, fuel momentarily spent.

The observed trapdoor explodes up as battle is joined, water and mud flying explosively into the air alone with sheets of tattered webbing. Its occupant is massive, bigger than Ramirez, an ambulatory exoskeleton held together by rotten, meaty webbing and swarms of countless spiders. The ground around it moves, coming to life as the vermin it hosts begin to drop from webs or scurry free of the eight clattering appendages.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Fort saves from everyone (except Pae/Ramirez), please."
GAME: Aryia rolls fortitude: (2)+9: 11
GAME: Venom rolls fortitude: (2)+6: 8
GAME: Culix rolls fort: (12)+3: 15
GAME: Smuldur rolls fort: (4)+7: 11
<OOC> Jinks says, "Aryia, Venom, and Smuldur nauseated rounds in order:"
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4: (1): 1
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4: (4): 4
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4: (4): 4
<OOC> Jinks says, "Eust's fortitude and nauseated rounds if failed."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4: (2): 2

The abomination gurgles at the underside of Ramirez, tossing its empty head to reveal a raw, undulating throat. It turns, growls, and begins to lope through the mud and muck, pulling up sheets of webs to wear like a tattered, gossamer gown as it goes. It can't reach the group of foot (or horseback) but it presents the horror of its form with a wet choking sound of challenge. Clawed fingers tear open children's clothes to reveal a collapsed chest and broken stomach, rotten entrails falling to dangle between its legs.

The fungal farmer isn't ready for the ghoulish and gross reveal. She manages to stumble off of Chubbychunkins in time to fall on her hands and knees and expel her last meal violently.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Aryia, your one round of being Nauseated. How move ye?"
<OOC> Aryia says, "move to 14,11, have enough movement to get there without provoking aoo"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Venom, 1 of 4 being ill. Move?"
<OOC> Venom says, "take her mask off so she doesn't drown in her own vomit, stagger 5' away from the nasty"

At the gristly display put forth by the undead small bean, Aryia looks between the massive flesh spider, the bean, the spider, then the bean.

She covers her mouth, gags, then shudders as she shoves something back down. Mouth still covered, she hops over Smuldur and pivots behind the abomination. "In position," she shakily motions with her other hand, unawares her teammate was rendered out of commission <Handspeech>.

<OOC> Culix says, "I'll 5' step around to 13, 17 if I can, and attempt to re-establish stealth. I'll move action to load an Alchemical Silver crossbow bolt, and then shoot at kiddo."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Go ahead and give me another Kn.Religion first, please."
GAME: Culix rolls knowledge/religion: (6)+6: 12
You paged Culix with ‘You're not certain was this is beyond knowing it's not a huecuva or your garden-variety zombie/skeleton.’

Venom scores a hit that doesn't quite stop the spider... person(?) from rushing the goblin. As it gets juicy, and the locals are smote int the ground by her colleagues, the veiled enigma is suddenly overwhelmed by the utterly vile odor that assails her senses.

There is a strangled, bubbling note in her throat before it cuts off by the quasi-chucnky spray that erupts from her nostrils.

Nostrils that are all her mask leaves her to breathe.

Thunderblecher splashing to the mud as the shrouded woman staggers away from the undead hive and collapses to her knees, eyes watering as she struggles with the fastenings of her undermask and veils. She gets enough of the fastenings loosened that the assorted straps hang from her face like the maw of an abomination of another kind, then spends some time coughing and gagging within the curtain of her rainslicked tresses.

GAME: Culix rolls stealth: (9)+15: 24
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+13: (18)+13: 31
<OOC> Culix says, "No stealth :<"
GAME: Culix rolls weapon19: (11)+9: 20
GAME: Culix rolls 1d6-1: (5)+-1: 4
<OOC> Paenitia says, "okay, not having precise shot I'll shoot at the thing not in melee (spider)"
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon1: (14)+13: 27
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon1-5: (18)+13+-5: 26
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage1: aliased to 1d6+1: (6)+1: 7
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage1: aliased to 1d6+1: (2)+1: 3

Culix swallows back a mixture of bile and fear which rises in her throat as this other horrific creature comes barreling across the rotten fields, and she dodges around to the other side of the signpost, keeping her head low and the- admittedly flimsy- fence between her and the abomonation. Her hand goes to the quiver at her hip, and she pulls loose a silvered quarrel- differentiated at a touch by notches cut into their shafts. She slots it into the crossbow and winds it back.

She peeks over the fence, only to find the create looking right at her. She yelps in surprise, thinking she'd given it the slip, and looses the bolt. It sails wide of the mark in her haste and she swears.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Smuldur is barfing 1 of 4. How would you like to move?"
<OOC> Smuldur will move to ... flank with Aryia? "Can't attack, but I can ...distract it with barfing?"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Sadly, you will not threaten to provide a flanking partner while nauseated. Since you're unable to attack. But you can go there if you'd like for moral support."

"Turn the little bit, that good. Fly smooth. You do well Ramirez, you are strong, this is enough, keep fly." Paenitia softly encourages her ivory hippogryph, who is more on a grey-green shade. The miserable rain isn't helping. Yet he manages, to bank a little, glide and cough.

The Red Knight pulls on her bow, sending two arrows quickly towards the giant spider. They strike, and break off bits of its decaying exoskeleton. A swarm surges forth from the cracks, spreading over its body and the ground.

"I hope these are not the spiders that scream and explode." The Dark Lucht mutters to herself.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Fort save, Aryia!"
GAME: Aryia rolls fortitude: (17)+9: 26
<OOC> Jinks says, "Now his bite. Vital Striking."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+15: (4)+15: 19

That is ... rank. Even for a gobber. Or maybe its familiar? Smuldur just can't keep it to himself. It being his lunch, among other things.

But that does not mean he is out! He skitter-hrrrk!s his way towards the spider-ling-horde-something. It may be all on Torchie, as he can't really swing it.

The bulk if the gigantic spider husk laden with a swarm of its biting cousins threatens to sink into the soft earth as it moves ahead. The rain washes waves of spiders down into the mud but there always seem to be more scurrying out from inside the thing. It rears up, its shadow falling over the mul before it comes crashing dow, its chelicerae tearing a gnome-sized pit in the ground.

The little spiders, too, scurry out and over everything nearby. They swarm over Aryia, biting and stinging, but she suffers through it. The deformed monstrosity of a human child doesn't seem to notice the vicious critters.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d2: (2): 2
<OOC> Jinks says, "Attacking Smuldur, power attacking."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7: (6)+7: 13
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+7: (18)+7: 25
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d3+7: (3)+7: 10
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d3+7: (3)+7: 10
GAME: You damaged Smuldur for 20 points. 18 HP remaining.

The half-formed corpse lunges at the torch-bearing goblin, perhaps attacking the closest lightsource in the wet gloom of the cold rain. It anchors its upper-jaw in his shoulder and then drags its face down across his chest. A rough swing of talons goes wide but the second tears up and across his belly. Bits of gobber-meat dangle from between fangs in partnership with its own ragged face.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Eustangellabledine's second turn barfing. But she stands and pulls a vial out of her bandolier."

Eustangellabledine spits, standing as she pulls a round vial of something alchemical from amongst its brethren. She heaves again, choking out the last of her stomach's contents before finding stable footing.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Aryia, you are no longer nauseated."
<OOC> Aryia says, "flurry the child"
<OOC> Aryia says, "first one is a trip attempt"
<OOC> Aryia says, "+2 due to improved trip"
GAME: Aryia rolls cmb+2: (8)+13+2: 23
<OOC> Jinks says, "is tripped!"
GAME: Aryia uses an AoO! 5 remaining.
<OOC> Aryia says, "vicious stomp"
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (9)+13: 22
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (12)+13: 25
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0-5: (13)+13+-5: 21
GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL.
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (2)+13: 15
<OOC> Jinks says, "All hits. Except the 15"
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (4)+3: 7
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (11)+3: 14
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (8)+3: 11
<OOC> Aryia says, "silver/magic/cold iron/bldg"
<OOC> Aryia says, "if they are still alive, 5 foot step down 1 square"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Barfing 2 of 4, Venom. Movement?"
<OOC> Venom says, "pick up my rifle, free action, reload"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Culix!"
<OOC> Culix says, "Dorp crossbow, move to 12, 12 draw dagger as part of move. Flank with Aryia and stab with dagger."

Aryia's eyes widen as the giant spider rapidly approaches, a mild panic rising in her eyes as creepy crawlies nip at her. It rears back, and she pirouettes on the spot, just barely missing what would have been her entire leg. She's somewhat hyper ventilating, but a moment of flailing her arms affords her a breath of fresh air on the wind.

In. Out. Focus. The spider was an issue, but the real problem was this corrupted soul. With one fell kick, she sweeps the leg.

And like a masked explorer of the stars, she proceeds to stomp their face in, making all sorts of squishy noises under her boot.

She is pointedly looking away from this wet work and is focused on the other gross thing: the spider.

<OOC> Jinks says, "That'll draw an AoO from the spider. You OK with that?"
<OOC> Culix says, "Hmm. It only takes me 20' of movement to get to 11, 13. Can I tumble the last 5' with my remaining 10' of movement, or does tumble half your entire move?"
<OOC> Jinks says, "I can roll with the former."
GAME: Culix rolls acrobatics: (16)+11: 27
<OOC> Jinks says, "That does not beat its CMD."
<OOC> Culix says, "Hit me"
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+15: (12)+15: 27
<OOC> Jinks says, "Oh, shoot, I need a fort, Culix."
GAME: Culix rolls fort: (14)+3: 17
<OOC> Jinks says, "The little spiders bite but you resist their venom, Culix."
GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+12: (7)+12: 19
GAME: You damaged Culix for 19 points. 9 HP remaining.
GAME: Culix rolls weapon3: (15)+8: 23
GAME: Culix rolls damage3+2d6: aliased to 1d4+0+2d6: (2)+0+(8): 10

Hrglbrlblrlbrlbrl isn't a language per se.

It suddenly feels like Venom's mother tongue, however, as the stench du joir has encouraged her breakfast to make it's encore performance an immersive, multimedia experience.

Dragging herself, still sounding her multitextural yawn along the path, back to her fallen gun, the partly shrouded woman fumbles between heaves to pull a steel cyllinder from her belt and slip it home into the weapon, but a resurgence of bacon and eggs interrupts her efforts to bring the longarm up to bear.

<OOC> Paenitia says, "well shoot with a -4 at it then"
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon1-4: (4)+13+-4: 13
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon1-4: (6)+13+-4: 15
<OOC> Jinks says, "Alright, Webster on Aryia."
<OOC> Jinks says, "Vital Strike"
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+15: (3)+15: 18
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+12+1: (6)+12+1: 19
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6: (3): 3

"Circle." Paenitia directs and Ramirez turns to the south. He crests the edge of the Yurt, elevate enough that the she can shoot past it. She does.

Her arrows miss, plocking into the muck and vanishing.

<OOC> Aryia says, "five foot up and punchhhhhhh"
<OOC> Aryia says, "first one is stunning fist"
GAME: Aryia spends ONE use of STUNNING FIST.
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (6)+13: 19
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (10)+13: 23
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0-5: (7)+13+-5: 15
GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL.
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (8)+13: 21
<OOC> Aryia says, "dc 18 fort or stun if the first one hits"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Hit, hit, miss, hit. Undead immune to Stun."
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (8)+3: 11
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (2)+3: 5
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (10)+3: 13

Culix drops her crossbow into the mud- an awful fate for a clearly well crafted device, but it's not serving her well at the moment. She dashes out from her cover, drawing her dagger as she does. As she spies the giant spider in her way, she attempts to feint, juking to the left, and then ducking under its fangs to get closer to her target.

At least, that was the plan. The fangs sink deep into her shoulder, crunching her collar bone and causing the color to drain out of Culix's face- color that rapidly stains her shirt, and pours copiously into the wet mud beneath.

With one arm hanging limp by her side, she manages to lunge with her dagger still, and gets more than she bargained for- it sinks in, to the hilt, and then keeps going. Kiddo's rotten flesh more yielding than she is accustomed to, and she reaches all the way through until Aryia sees a little green hand holding the dagger emerge from the creatures chest cavity.

Culix rapidly yanks her hand back, and shakes the multitude of little spiders swaming all over it off.

The spider turns away from Culix, its gigantic fangs chittering together as they drip gobber blood. The swarm roils inside, around, over, and beneath it. Another heave and lunge. Another miss and a deep rent torn through the mud. It issues a voiceless, gravelike rasp of frustration.

Then the great beast rears to one side, flinching. The whole area grows brighter in a flash and the combustion of dozens (if not hundreds) of tiny spiders cooking in their exoskeletons sounds like tiny, squeeking screams. The swarm withdraws off the ground, pulling back into the large, animated husk.

"YouseemeDana! Ithwartyourabominations! Hahahaha!" Shouts the grenade-lobber, Eustangellabledine.

<OOC> Jinks says, "Borf 3 of 4. Movement, Venom?"
<OOC> Venom says, "14, 17"

After seeing the devastation on Culix from the spider, Aryia didn't want to be a part of that equation. Absolutely not her intention. She narrowly dodges out of the way as a second hole is made beside her, her sighing in relief as the gobbo finishes the job she started out with. Now onto bigger things.

The mul'neissa spins to the side, getting a better angle on the legs as she lands a strike that'd send most creatures reeling as it hit a bone, yet nothing happens. Huffing in frustration, she grabs at the leg and snaps it off with a sick elbow crunch, and then swings the liberated leg at their head, breaking the makeshift weapon and a fang in the process.

Blazing gaze glances back to the road. Checking on the others. An other.

<OOC> Culix says, "5' northwest to 11, 11, Stab with Flank."
GAME: Culix rolls weapon3+2: (1)+8+2: 11 (EPIC FAIL)
<OOC> Paenitia says, "okay, Ramire moves to upper left of his square on 14,8 so Culix gets flanking"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "so moving there will provoke an AOO, well swift to challenge the spider then too"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "if it attacks Ramirez I get a +3 to hit"
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+15: (17)+15: 32
<OOC> Jinks says, "Ride check?"
GAME: Paenitia rolls ride+6: (6)+8+6: 20
GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+12: (9)+12: 21
GAME: You damaged Paenitia's companion for 21 points. 31 HP remaining.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Roll your attack with the +3"
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon3+3+2: (13)+11+3+2: 29
GAME: Paenitia rolls damage3+8: aliased to 1d6+2+8: (4)+2+8: 14
<OOC> Jinks says, "Smuldur was barfing 2 last time, 3 this time (I accidently skipped spamming the command). He'll 5' back from the spider in case it swarms again. Webster attacks Aryia. Vital Strike."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+15: (11)+15: 26
GAME: Jinks rolls 4d8+12: (24)+12: 36
GAME: You damaged Aryia for 36 points. 39 HP remaining.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6: (3): 3
<OOC> Jinks says, "Alchemist fire burn. ^"

She'll have to talk with the one who made her pack.... because it wasn't supposed to use it's expansive extradmimensional magic on the contents of her stomach!

Noisily horking a trail along the trail on hand and knees to the fence, Venom holds the Thunderbelcher clear of the mud and ignores the effects this regrettable escapade has on both attire and dignity.

Seeing Aryia up to her armpits in a rotten pinata that does everything that a spider can, she tries to bring the gun up, but a body convulsing purge instead makes her ranged attack of the moment more of a short ranged cone that splashes along the grass and her would be cover.

She knows she didn't eat this damned much!

Culix pants in pain as she lurches off to the side, oppsite Aryia as the Mul harres the beast with a flurry of blows. She ducks back, waiting for her moment to strike- and thinks that she sees it. She ducks in, reversing the grip on her dagger as she attempts to jam its tip into the gap between the spider creatures armored exoskeleton in its joints.

Seeing double from pain, and the slick rain interfere however and she fumbles the attack- nearly loosing her grip on the dagger entirely she aborts the attack before it even begins and staggers back again, holding her dagger at the ready.

GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+12+1: (5)+12+1: 18
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d6: (2): 2
<OOC> Aryia says, "cry and punch a lot"
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0+2: (7)+13+2: 22
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0+2: (19)+13+2: 34
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0+2-5: (12)+13+2+-5: 22
GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL.
GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0+2: (7)+13+2: 22
<OOC> Jinks says, "All hit"
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (9)+3: 12
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (5)+3: 8
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (11)+3: 14
GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (6)+3: 9

Paenitia looks down, seeing her companions fighting in the mud with the spider, some of them throwing up. There is a moment where she does nothing but stare. Encased in full armour it's impossible to see any hint of mood. There is just the overly happy, exagerated grin of her mask.

She tosses her bow aside. A masterwork, composite bow, designed just for her out of weer wood. The same tree as her walking stick, and a weapon she has longed to use as she did in Isobar, where she and her hippogryph could glide endlessly on the winds. Her bow lands in the mud.

She draws her lance and nudges her steed down, calling her challenge, "Fight only me, Spider! Since I must fight you in the muck, make it worth it!"

Ramirez swoops close so she can stab. In his illness, he is an easy target and receives a massive spider bite. His mistress misjudges, is unable to get him clear of the mandibles.

Still, her lance bites in, cavign in a portion of the abdomen. The portion still burning from the alchemist's fire. The swarm inside roil about trying to find a way to escape the flaming debris falling amongst them. "I say, attack only me!"

The spider staggers on its remaining legs, whatever vile will or magicks keeping it moving seems to wane. Then it surges, lunging low and up to embrace the mul' in its primary pair of fangs. It holds, crushing, and the smaller feeding teeth begin to work at her flank, tearing and probing before it drops her to the ground short a few layers of skin.

In comes another gnomish grenade, glowing as it arcs end-over-end to slam into the creature and set another portion of its hindquarters on fire. "Hahahahahahaha!" Taunts the gnome from a safe distance.

Aryia is busy trying to line up another shot on the spider as it deals with Paenitia and Ramirez. If she could just get right...

Nom.

... here?

There's a distinctive crunch that comes from the elf as her side is shredded into. Mask askew, her mouth is open in a pale, wordless scream. Fists and feet batter into it, her flailing and clawing at what would be her demise like a cornered cat.

She draws in more breath for further useless terrors. But she clamps her mouth shut and tenses. In.

It may let her go, but she doesn't. Aryia grabs both large fangs as pulls herself into the deadly creature, it rocking to the side as Paenitia slams into it, whipping Aryia about. She inverts herself, cocks her foot back, lines it up, and caves in the underside of its hard palate, foot sticking out from atop a skull.

It crumbles. So does she.

The mute crawls out from it, rolls over onto her back, and lets her head thud against the ground.

Shakily, she gives a thumbs up before letting that fall to the ground.

As the Spider finally goes down, Culix drops hr dagger, and then collapses onto her backside in the mud. Her hand comes up to apply pressure to the still bleeding wound in her shoulder, and she cries out in pain. Yup, there's definitely something broken there. But better a bit of pain than bleeding out. "Gods, Thought I was done for." she grunts. The rain hides the cold sweat she's in from the agony of her wound. "Jus- jus going to sit here... for a minute..." she murmurs.

Venom horks her lasst, slumping over and through the fence as the others manage to bring the abomination down, hair and clothes chunky with Sad Tummy Salsa(tm), and what is visible through the gaps in her loosened under mask are pale.

She drapes there, wearily, bubblingly breathing for a moment or... six.....

Paenitia watches as the beast goes down under punches and a fire bomb. She takes out a rag and wipes her lance clean, then slides it into the scabbard. Ramirez is bleeding, Culix doesn't look good. She can't see Aryia's state and Venom is far.

"I can bandage the wounds but not in the rain. The Yurt does not seem good enough to use for shelter." She explains, and moves Ramirez back to the road. There, she dismounts, pets his forelegs and tromps through the mud, streams and spiderwebs to retrieve her weapons. The discarded bow, her other lance.

Her legs are short, her armour heavy, and the mud soft. This takes her a while.

The rain continues to fall, the weather unmoved by the mortal struggle just concluded in these ruined fields. Mouths are rinsed. Shirts are cleaned and lost weapons and stray horses are retrieved. Eustangellabledine manages (surprisingly) to read the room and swallows her triumph, moving past the recovering party to inspect the plants that were supposed to be growing under the care of an Essence. The crop is lost, blighted and ruined either by the presence of undead, some manner of curse, or the malice of the fallen holy woman.

The yurt is not an ideal shelter but it offers some reprieve from the rain and a chance to examine wounds. The rain creates an echoing patter where it falls in through the damaged roof, narrow tunnels of wind find the tears in the tent's sides, and the floor is caked with mud from the comings and goings of the undead creatures just dispatched in the field. The place smells unpleasantly of mildew and rot.

There are two beds and a bassinet that's been repurposed as storage for bundles and tools. One of the beds is smaller, stripped, and supporting an open coffin sized for a human child (or one of the smaller humanoid races). Both the larger bed and the coffin have mud trails going to and crawling out, the pair of humanoid undead using either location to rest. There's signs of spiders, too, but not to the degree one might expect given the towering monstrosity encountered in the field. Webs in the coffin, the corners of the room sheltered from the drafts, under the beds, and behind the furniture.

A wooden carving of Ygdrassil sits ruined in the middle of the floor, still supporting the woodsman's axe that's chopped it into a scattered pile of debris. A sickle taken to rust is fallen nearby on a bloodstained portion of the floor.

On a desk sits a note secured in place by a planting blade. The paper is tortured, half-crumpled and stained wet from fallen water though it sits nowhere near a leak in the roof. The quill is snapped nearby, the inkwell resting against the the wall where it fell beneath a splashed stain. The hand of the note is sloppy but remains legible, the words written in the common tradespeak.

There is no mother of nature. No Dana.

No true mother could take the life of a boy without cause or reason.

My Ianne is lost to me. Bit and poisoned.

Made to suffer and cry and wail and choke and die.

No herbs would help. No magics soothed.

I lied when he looked at me crying.

Told him he'd be fine.

I've made the box.

It sits waiting. Empty.

I don't have the strength to lift him in.

I smashed the shrine.

I curse her name.

There is no Dana.

No mother of nature.

Not even a mother in this house.

I curse her again with my last breath.

I lay down with my Ianne.

I'll hold him once more and we'll be together.

Forever.

The gnomish fungiculturist has no time for sentiment. She leaves the reading of notes and mourning to others. She searches through the rest of the yurt to find bundle supplies, preserved items. When others find the will to join in the search real progress is made. The list can't be filled whole but a good amount of salvageable supplies are collected.

It wasn't a total loss.

The twisted remains of mother and son slowly sink into the blighted, muddy earth outside.