Trick or Treat: There's Something in the Fog
Log Info
- Title: Trick or Treat: There's Something in the Fog
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Aryia, Dax, Seyardu, Telamon, Thurid, Braelnoir
- Place: A07: Fernwood Pub
- Time: Sunday, October 24, 2021, 2:34 PM
- Summary: With the Temples and the Tarrace closed, adventurers look for new haunts, or return to old ones. Several meet up in the Fernwood, which is so busy some temporary staff have been brought in. Outside is miserable, foggy. The door opens and the fog comes in, but not before Aryia glimpses a familiar face. The stolen visage of Lancer Tafetha, worn by one of the devil women. Battle Ensues, with the Adventurers yelling for the pub patrons to leave. Some don't recognize the danger, some do. A lot do when Thurid grow to gigantic size, knocking over tables and yelling with a thunderous, crackling voice. She's righteously mighty, only one problem, the doors are regular size and the Erinyes is hanging around outside, lobbing chaos in. Dax charges the devil, only to be struck by her sword and gripped by immense panic. Spells seem ineffective against both the devil and the Fog, until Telamon hits on one that appears to damage it. The Fog has been spreading in the room like a conscious thing, with flickering images inside it and ghostly faces, one Aryia recognizes! The Erinyes keeps blighting the area, killing regular patrons, then makes to leave when the fog is destroyed. Aryia makes a heroic effort to stop her, leaving out a window and punching her, but she flies away. Thurid follows, squeezing her bulk through the small opening the shooting up into the air to smite the devil. It hurts, but the devil laughs, tauns her for keeping her in range of 'innocents', then vanishes. As everyone re-groups, Braelnoir arrives, upset she's missed the fight and the opportunity to do some good.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east.Aprons of retired servers hang above the bar, a large and strikingly white one is embroidered with the name: Cryosanthia; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.
The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her. Dax 5'0" 110 Lb Human Female A 5' tall red haired human with piercings and tats. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. Telamon 5'6" 140 Lb Half-Elf Male A platinum-blond half-sil man with dancing dark eyes. Thurid 7'1" 249 Lb Giantborn Female Bright-eyed, muscular, blond Giantborn woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= At a glance around PrP Room: Three -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The Temple District is closed. The Tarrace is closed. Rumours abound, but a recent article in the Alexandrian Tribune is very reassuring. The City Council is caling up the military to purge the city of infernal outsiders, and calling on citizens to surrender themselves if they're involved, or rat out anyone they know who might be. Things are being handled, rest assured.
For Adventurers, this is good news, well, except for the restaurant closure. They are forced to go elsewhere and the old favourite, the Fernwood, is open and busy.
Aryia comes down the stairs from the rooms in simple clothes: baggy pants, a shirt that's too big on her, and a green verdant jacket to ward off the chill in the air. Her hair is all sorts of styled from the pillows on her bed, sticking up in all kinds of directions.
What time was it...? Eh. Didn't matter. She was just mostly miffed she couldn't go to the bathhouse at the current time.
She rubs some sleepy out of her eyes.
Telamon feels... wrung out. His expression, normally cheerful, is a little more fatigued. Still.. he's holding together. But he regards the glass of dwarven spirits in his hand with a bit of suspicion. Randolf swore up and down 'it's the cure for what ails ye, lad', but frankly it -smells- like something he'd use to clean glassware. Seated at the bar, he idly swirls the nigh-untouched drink, shaking off the brown study to look around.
It's a pub. Dax isn't even sure how she got here, she doesn't think about those things very often, just when will she get her next drink? And she has it... she squints at it though, scritching her tightly braided hair as if she wasn't sure even how this happened. "Ain't no matter.." She says aloud her thoughts, and drinks. Whatever has been happening is making this place busy, so she has found herself at a table drinking with different people every time her brain triggers a memory. "So, yer from where again?" She asks, and squints, finding no one currently sitting with her... "Where'd ya get off ta? I was talkin' ta ya... or ... was I?"
Thurid makes her way into the pub from outside, dressed in the full finery of a Warrior of Angoron. Joining the holy symbol of Angoron about her neck is the badge that allows clerics access to their temples, if not anyone else. Seems she's on break from her duties, and on her way to get some dinner. She's hard to miss, standing head and shoulders above the average crowd and with a steel-headed maul that looks big enough to take down castle walls slung across her back. Not to mention the gleaming golden chainmail she wears under the rather more understated brown and blue scapular depicting the Maul, Bolt and Mountain of Angoron's faithful.
The fernwood was never her first choice of where to eat, but as a second, it was more than good enough. So she had her own spot at a table in the room, where she had a cast iron pan of fajita mix and several wraps, with the peppers off to the side. The order of adding them to the wrap she was eating was important.
She turns to the door and waves to the cleric, and caught a sleepy mul'niessa on the way back to her meal, who also gets a wave.
The Fernwood is crowded, its two servers, Miriam and Kaeryn, are busy keeping food and drink orders moving. A couple irregular staff have been brought in to help as every table is full.
Outside, it's cold and foggy. It has been for days, a constant blanket on the city that was draining it of colour. The Pub's warmth and closed windows keeps it out, but wisps seep under the door.
Kaeryn, the half-sil, has been keeping drinks topped up, Telamon's and Dax's. Miri has been engaging the rest of the tables, and cheerfully looks up at Thurid, "Hi! Can I take your order? Where would you like to sit?"
Aryia blinks as she sees some familiar faces, but a light, if tired, smile crosses her lips at seeing Seyardu. She waves back at her, a sleeve sticking out of her jacket sleeve as she pads her way on over to join the silverscale at the table. She reeks of linseed oil. "Peace on your nest," she says with her hands as she sits down. She does spot Thurid across the way, and she waves at them, her a bit more energetic now. <Handspeech>
Thurid returns Seyardu's wave with one of her own, as well as a bright smile- it's then she spies a familiar bed-head and is about to offer Aryia a wave as well before she is distracted by Miri. She looks down to her, still smiling, "Just after something quick to eat. How about a meat pie and an ale?" she says and then adds, at the other question, "I'll join some friends, if there's room." pointing towards Seyardu and Aryia's table
Telamon takes another sip of his drink, and grimaces. As Kaeryn goes back, he remarks a bit rhetorically, "How do dwarves drink this stuff?" He shakes his head at the mist trying to creep in through the door. "Terrible weather out there. A shame, too, it was nicer a couple evenings back. Not a cloud in the sky." He catches sight of Aryia going by, but as she seems to be beelining for some friends, he simply contents himself with a smile. Idly, he begins tapping his fingertips on the bar, a random rhythm. Feeling his spirits starting to perk up a bit. Or perhaps that's the drink, who knows?
Looking over to the nearby bar, Dax wavers, her body rocking about on her seat as she looks up to Telamon. "You, you there, calm that racket. Yer makin' fer a rough bit of trumblin' in the head." All the noise around her doesn't matter, "Unless yer 'bout ta start singin'. Then... well, then ya get a pass. Can't thwart a good song in a bar or ship, jus' ain't in me spirit." She pauses and then laughs, starts laughing loudly, "Spirit? Oh, that's a good one, I ain't even realize I was makin' a joke. In me spirit." She starts drunkenly laughing some more.
Seyardu waves the two over, and pulls out chairs for them. She waves to Dax as well, slowly in case that aggravated a headache.
"Peace on your nest, Thurid, and Aryia! It's good to see you both, as it usually is."
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+16: (9)+16: 25 (Erinyes Stealth) GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (15)+22: 37 GAME: Thurid rolls perception: (11)+10: 21 GAME: Dax rolls perception: (20)+0: 20 GAME: Telamon rolls Perception: (3)+7: 10 GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (5)+5: 10
Orders are taken, orders are delivered, the two servers move about. Bill sets out mugs for pickup. The pub goes about it's business.
The front door opens, as it often does, nothing remarkable. Mist wafts in.
Except, no one enters.
A Serrielite Lancer stands just outside, looking in. Like many of her women warriors, she has a severe expression. She smiles cruelly, recognizing a few patrons. Adventurers can be so predictable sometimes.
A few adventurers might recognize Lancer Tafetha as well, at least her face. Although it's swiftly obscured by more mist billowing in. A wall of it. A roiling cloud of green fog with thick, impenetrable border, within which dance the indistinct shapes of twisted, spooky ghosts.
Aryia is about to respond to Seyardu as her glowing, tired gaze settles on the mist rolling in. That's... odd...
Her eyes widen, and she abruptly stands. Jabbing a finger towards the door, past Thurid, her face twists into a snarl. "WELL IF IT ISN'T THE LITTLE BITCH THAT COULD!" she gestures crudely as she grabs her own head and twists it to the side with a satisfying crack.
Something's wrong. The prey isn't afraid.
The firey mul'neissa gestures hotly to Seyardu. "Ashwing!" <Handspeech>
GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL. uses Barkskin <OOC> Aryia says, "okay, Aryia can /just/ get to 2,10. Would like to look out the window" GAME: Aryia rolls cmb: (19)+13: 32
There's a grey blur that tears across the Fernwood, Aryia dipping and twirling past people to all but throw herself against the window, glowing eyes darting about, trying to see what was going on. Ashwings. Ashwings! How could she have let them slip by for so long! She couldn't make anything out, the green fog was too dense. Instead, she pivots around, seeing as one of the patrons was about to be engulfed by whatever it was.
Without thinking, she grabs them by the collar, spins a full circle, and hip tosses them further into the building. She... did it a little too well, and they go flying.
Good deed for the day.
She steels herself.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d4: (3): 3 (Number of Mirror Images)
It's not clear what is going on, outside. The Ashwings is obscured by the fog, although she can be heard laughing. Prey that fights back it much more amusing.
GAME: Thurid rolls knowledge/religion: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL) (vs DC 10) GAME: Seyardu rolls diplomacy: (1)+15: 16 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Seyardu casts Blessing of Fervor. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18
Seyardu turns and squints when she sees the fog at the door, and she is already moving when the fog rolls in, pulling the billhook from her back when she catches the handsigns. Running closer to the fog she reaches for her holy symbol, to offer a brief prayer. "Celestial mother, steel us against the creature who threatens these people, so we may see this through." she offers in prayer, invigorating the adventurers there, as well as the staff.
"Everyone, stay away from the fog! If there is an alternate exit, guide them there, we will hold off the fiend. There is an ashwing there!" She shouts back to them.
There's a lot of sudden action, and movement. Dax's hand is on a mug of something or other, and she slides it across the counter top, spilling a bunch of it as she whirls herself about to see... Aryia tossing someone across the room. Her eyes squint, she staggers to her feet, and she looks around. "What in the world? I ain't never seen a patron fly..." She goes to drink from her mug and it is empty... so she moves her hand over what she thinks is the bar and drops it, but it clangs to the floor.
Continuing her movement, she starts stumbling in the direction of Aryia, "Hey... I know ya, jus' cause ya want a better..." She gasps in air, a moment, blinks her eyes, "Seat at a table, don't mean yer permission ta be flyin' people all 'bout. There be rules..."
"I ain't going nowhere! Why you casting spells on me?" One of the patrons closest to the fog grumps.
"C'mon Biebo, we gotta go." His drinking buddy says, standing and pulling on him.
"Nope! Not moving."
The servers, Miriam and Kaeryn, are a little more on the ball. They have served a lot of adventurers, talked with a few of them. The silverscale's message gets through.
"Everyone please! You need to move." "Out, out, out, it's bad, move it, move it."
Miri drags a couple near her towards the kitchen door, Kae gets one of the further tables moving.
GAME: Thurid casts Righteous Might. Caster Level: 9 DC: 19
Thurid has no idea what an Ashwing is, nor why Aryia is suddenly flying across the room- but both she and Seyardu seem alarmed, and the fog is certainly alarming in itself, and so she does not hesitate. She unslings her hammer from her back and hefts it into the sky above her head, "Angoron! Lend me your strength!" she bellows out. A flash of lightning strikes the head of her maul, passing without harm through the ceiling of the building. A rumble of thunder follows a moment later.
Thurid's form begins to swell and grow, the table next to her knocked over as she doubles in height over the course of a few seconds. Her brilliant, blue eyes crackle with lightning and her skin takes on a golden inner radiance. Wings of light emerge from her shoulders, and then she is away- she hurtles through the air towards the wall, adjacent to Aryia.
"What manner of threat do we face?" she asks Aryia, her voice deep and booming- and her form almost painful to look upon it is so grossly incandescent.
GAME: Telamon casts Snapdragon Fireworks. Caster Level: 2 DC: 15 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20-1: (11)+-1: 10 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d4: (3): 3 GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/nature: (3)+7: 10 (vs DC 20)
Telamon stares as suddenly things go a bit awry. He's... kinda glad he didn't drink much of this crap, and so he rolls off his stool, moving behind the bar as a wave of divine energy washes over him. He can feel... -something- putting a little extra behind his casting as he speaks in a sibilant voice, blue and silver lights flashing around him and coalescing into tiny dragons slithering all over his arms. He gestures, flinging one into the fog where it explodes, but it doesn't seem to slow the spread any. "What the hell IS that?" he yells in confusion.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Aryia, Thurid, DC8 Will save" GAME: Aryia rolls will: (1)+7: 8 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Thurid rolls will: (16)+10: 26 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20-1: (13)+-1: 12 (NC Will) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20-1: (3)+-1: 2 (NC Will) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20-1: (12)+-1: 11 (NC Will) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20-1: (17)+-1: 16 (NC Will) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (11)+5: 16 GAME: Thurid rolls reflex: (16)+5: 21 (vs DC 17) GAME: Aryia rolls reflex-2: (8)+12+-2: 18 (vs DC 17)
The fog billows into the Fernwood, the mists full of eerie phantasms. It rolls forward to envelop Thurid and Aryia, Standing in it, the giant Jotun can see forms moving about. Periodically, one of these shapes flashes with light. A ghostly Lantern aloft.
The Mul'niessa is confronted with the leering face of a foe she bested long ago.
Another of those moving shapes is unsettling in the exact spot a patron was seated.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+16: (10)+16: 26 GAME: Aryia rolls cmb-2: (6)+13+-2: 17 GAME: Aryia rolls 1d4: (3): 3 (Mirror Image)
Aryia's face goes pale as she sees a familiar looking face in the cloud. What... what the? Didn't she deal with him already?! No, he can't be left alive..!
She runs after him, scrabbling through the green fog to try and get something, anything. But instead she finds herself stumbling out, face to face with the disguised Ashwing.
A sword flashes by, but instinct makes her turn slightly, the edge of the nasty weapon making a thin line on her flank instead of something gnarly.
The elf was shaking in her spot, but she raises her fists and bites her lip as a hand shoots out to try and grab her, but can't find purchase.
The pugilist dips down, hands raised as she bounces back and forth on her feet. The ashwing would not get in here. Not where her sweetie is.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+12+4: (14)+12+4: 30 (DC 23 Defensive Cast) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 5d8: (23): 23 (vs DC 19) GAME: Aryia rolls will-2: (13)+7+-2: 18 GAME: Thurid rolls will: (13)+10: 23
The Ashwing hisses as the mul'niessa charges up, and deftly avoids her swing. Her mouth becomes a wicked grin, showing sharp incisors, "Dodge this!"
Colour drains from the world, there's a sense of cold that goes beyond physical discomfort, something in the bones, at the same time there's a sulfurous smell, the hint of distant flames. The wood of pub warps, as if it experienced a hundred years of weathering.
The sensation passes, but the corruption remains, the entrance blighted.
GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/religion: (4)+9: 13 (vs DC 20) GAME: Seyardu casts Spiritual Ally. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+9: (15)+9: 24 (vs SR 19) GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d10+3: (2)+3: 5
Seyardu looks to the man that seems too stubborn to leave, and sighs. "If you do not get away now, you will be stuck in that fog, and the one at the door has not left that fog yet." She states, her attention more on the door. "So please get away from it."
The silver sith-makar sprints past the fog, and raises her holy symbol up again. From behind the ashwing another apparition appears, a ghostly sith-makar wielding a billhook much like her own, which it immediately brings down to smack the fiend in the side, and again, though the second strike is missed.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+16: (11)+16: 27 (AOO on Dax) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d8+9: (4)+9: 13 GAME: Dax rolls will: (1)+3: 4 (EPIC FAIL) (vs DC 19) <OOC> Dax says, "It's cause I'm drunk!" GAME: Dax rolls 1d4: (4): 4 GAME: Dax rolls 1d100: (19): 19 (vs 20% miss - miss)
Stumbling forward toward the Aryia throwing-people-person, Dax manages to get closer to the fog. When... she sees others on the outside who definitely don't look like they are good folks. And there's this fog, coming in from them? "Hey, ya, yer, gotta get outta my.." She steps through the door, around Aryia when she's suddenly attacked, and the fog seems to pool around her feet, and then wraps up around her. Maybe she's just imagining it? The attack barely even makes her notice, despite the hard hit, instead her eyes get wide, "Wiiiiiiiiitch, it's an air witch, air witch! Ruuuuuun!" She screams, harshly, and turns, bolting back into the bar, as fast as she can.
"Move! Run!" Miri shouts!
The patrons start moving, away from the sudden surprise giant, the fog, and the sounds of combat. They aren't taking the most efficient paths, out of the way is the first goal, then they start considering exits.
Short of hiding in the various rent-able rooms, the only exit is out through the kitchen. Several are fleeing through, but it's starting to bottleneck.
Much the same way the fight is clustering around the main entrance.
Biebo has dropped dead, forward onto the table. The blight that warped the wood took his life. His friend panics, and grabs him, attempting to drag him to safety, "Help! Help me."
GAME: Thurid rolls diplomacy: (19)+10: 29 (vs DC 10) GAME: Thurid rolls cmb+1: (20)+12+1: 33 (success - yeet 25')
Thurid looks towards the door and the melee going on there. "Draw her in or push her out! Fighting in the doorway is awkward!" she calls out to Aryia and Dax. She steps up towards those still obstinately refusing to leave, and grabs the panicking one by the lapel, shoving him away- with more force than she intended. "Leave! Flee through the back entrance. We will help your friend if we can, but you will die if you remain." she bellows in their faces- her voice like rolling thunder.
GAME: Telamon rolls knowledge/nature: (7)+7: 14 (vs DC 20) GAME: Telamon rolls ranged: (18)+3: 21 (vs Touch) GAME: Telamon rolls 1d3: (1): 1 GAME: Telamon rolls diplomacy+3: (8)+6+3: 17 (vs DC 10)
Telamon comes charging out from behind the bar, skidding to a stop behind one of the tables. He gestures a quick movement, and hisses, "Cryos!", and a thin line of blue-white energy slices out into the fog, to no effect. "Damn it..." He looks at the remaining guests. "Go! Out through the kitchen, don't push, you don't want to trample anyone. But get moving -- this place isn't safe for anyone!" He pauses ruefully. "Me included..."
GAME: Aryia rolls will-2: (13)+7+-2: 18 GAME: Dax rolls will: (18)+3: 21 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+10+2+1: (15)+10+2+1: 28 (AOO) GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d8+3+1: (8)+3+1: 12 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (4)+5: 9 (Slam attack on Thurid) GAME: Thurid rolls fort: (8)+9+2: 19 (+2 Righteous Might) (vs DC 17 Fort)
A shadowy shape turns within the fog, fixating on Telamon. It charges him after he casts his spell. The patron turned zombie is dropped by the silverscale's strike.
The fog clings coldly to Thurid, it's unsettling presence disturbing all nearby, but fortunately not shaking them to their core. The strange flashes, disturbing forms are concentrated at one end of the fog bank, the growing cloud left behind is making combat difficult, but doesn't seem to have as many supernatural powers.
Slowly it flows into the pub, engulfing Biebo, who rises with a growl.
<OOC> Aryia says, "Aryia will take the extra attack from BoF, and flying kick over to the fog," <OOC> Aryia says, "landing on the table and try to... punch the fog? Seeing as Telamon landed something on it? <OOC> Aryia says, "Yes, she'll eat the AoO" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+16: (8)+16: 24 GAME: Aryia spends ONE point of KI POOL. GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (1)+13: 14 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (19)+13: 32 GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (11)+13: 24 GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0-5: (15)+13+-5: 23 GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0: (7)+13: 20 GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (10)+3: 13, "bludgeoning/magic/cold iron/silver" GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (8)+3: 11 GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (5)+3: 8 GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (5)+3: 8
Aryia sees the spell coming, her eyes widening. And the fear from earlier keeps her from preparing herself from the draining effects. But unlike before, where the spell would render her nearly unconscious, she stands steady.
She winds up to unleash hell upon the fiend. But Thurid's call was right. Her face scrunches up, then she huffs heavily. She jabs a finger at the disguised ashwing, "Fuck you."
With a jump and a kick off the wall, she flies over towards the cloud trying to claim more patrons lives. Her aim off, she knees the table and hisses in pain, moreso than the sword that kissed her arm on the way out as the table flies away. Regaining her footing, she lets loose a hail of fists that were sped up by Alethea's blessing. Gotta kill this thing. Gotta kill this thing... <Handspeech>
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+10: (3)+10: 13 (AOO -Miss) <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Will save DC19 Dax, Aryia Thurid, Seyardu" GAME: Thurid rolls will: (19)+10: 29 (vs DC 19) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 5d8: (22): 22 (vs DC 19) GAME: Seyardu rolls will +2: (20)+10+2: 32 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) (vs DC 19) GAME: Aryia rolls will: (11)+7: 18 (vs DC 19) GAME: Dax rolls will: (12)+3: 15 (vs DC 19) <OOC> Cryosanthia nods, Neutral is 1/2, 1/4 with save, Good is full, 1/2
The Ashwing cackles as Aryia leaps and kicks at the fog, bashing a table and unleashing a flurry at the wisps. The panicked Dax in front of her also is a source of amusement.
She cheers, seemingly echoing the instructions the adventurers have been giving the pub patrons, "Yes! Run, run! Bunch up nicely my little lambs."
Seemingly without a care, she concentrates and there's the unholy sensation, the draining, the glimpses of hell, pulling at everyone near her and the door.
GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/religion: (17)+9: 26
The fog is not actually undead, it is some sort of atomized ooze that has a negative energy affinity. The Ashwings likely found it and empowered it, and is directing it. The Fog will re-animate entities that die in it, and the Ashwing's unholy blight so far has been quite efficient at killing regular people in an instant.
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+10: (17)+10: 27 (Spirtual Aly) GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d3: (3): 3 (1d3, 1 to hit the real one) GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d100: (54): 54 (20% Miss change) GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25 (Spirtual Aly) (THREAT) GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+5: (19)+5: 24 (Spirtual Aly) (Confirmed) GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d2: (2): 2 (1d2, 1 to hit the real one) GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d100: (96): 96 (20% Miss chance, concealment) GAME: Seyardu rolls 3d10+9: (15)+9: 24 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20 +11: (9)+11: 20 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+11: (6)+11: 17 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20 +6: (19)+6: 25 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d8 +3: (6)+3: 9 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d8+3: (1)+3: 4 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d8+3: (1)+3: 4
Seyardu looks to see the stricken patron, and before they can move, they are enveloped in the fog and lurch to their feet. Aryia's attacks seem to have some effect though, and she squints.
"It is not an undead! Some manner of ooze filled with negative energy. Someone needs to get that patron out before they are knocked out in it!" She shouts, hefting her weapon, and slashing several times at the slime, seeming to cleave through some of it in the process with the magically enchanted blade.
While she is doing this, the ghostly sith-makar slashes at one of the ashwings, causing it to vanish into nothing. And in the same movement it thrusts the head of the weapon into another ashwing, the magical weapon not piercing, but slamming heavily into the fiend's stomach.
<OOC> Dax says, "Do I need to roll panic?" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "to stop panicking? no, you're panick'd for 11 more rounds" <OOC> Dax says, "Gotcha, so, I'll run away. :)"
The world is swimming with frightening witchcraft! Dax's superstitious mind just can't take it, and she is bolting as fast as she can. Running from the fear, and the magical energy causing it. She's quick, and manages to reach a crowd of people very quickly, where she looks around, for somewhere to hide... not yet, but when next she gets a chance.
Thurid wishes she had Calm Emotions prepared.
Everyone is running, crowing that last exit. Kaeryn has gone into the kitchen to direct things, Miri is up on the walkway outside of the room, shouting at people at the bottom of the Fernwood to move.
People are getting out, but can only move so fast.
So much.
<OOC> Thurid says, "I'll 5' down and begin a full attack. First is shoving the patron at 4, 11 out of the fog." GAME: Thurid rolls cmb+1: (9)+12+1: 22 (vs CMD 13, person is shoved 15') GAME: Thurid rolls weapon12+1: (3)+11+1: 15 GAME: Thurid rolls damage12+1: aliased to 3d6+8+1: (15)+8+1: 24, "Bludgeoning/Magic (+1)" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "that destroys the fog" <OOC> Thurid says, "Final attack against the zombie" GAME: Thurid rolls weapon12+1-5: (11)+11+1+-5: 18 GAME: Thurid rolls damage12+1: aliased to 3d6+8+1: (12)+8+1: 21
"I said MOVE!" Thurid bellows at the last one still at the edge of the fog, shouldering her hammer so that she can step forwards and give him a solid shove in the middle of the chest- it sends him and his seat flying across the bar, but a few bruises and scrapes are easier to heal than being turned into a zombie.
With that out of the way, she grips her hammer in both hands and lowers the massive head of it- as large as a beer keg- even with her thighs. She braces her heel against the ground, and then swings the hammer in a wide arc. It tears through the mist, scattering it, and doesn't slow until it hits the recently rizen zombie and causes the undead thing to crumple around it.
She continues the spinning attack, making a full revolution with the zombie whirling on the head of her hammer as it rises higher and higher, until it's finally overhead. She brings it crashing down into the floorboards- driving the zombie down through splintered floorboards and near splitting it in two.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Yeah, I'm hitting her with Snapdragon Fireworks." GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+2: (2)+2: 4 (vs SR 19) <OOC> Telamon says, "Standard action to cast Mage Armor, and I'll use BoF for the AC/Ref boost." GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 2 DC: 15
Telamon exhales as the fog dissipates -- he was starting to worry there -- but he sees the... person that's directing this insanity, if unclearly. He flips his wrist, and a silver-and-blue dragon zips from his palm, rocketing in past Seyardu, but it sputters and fizzles. "Damn it," he mumbles. Another murmured incantation, bringing his hands in close to his chest, and a shimmer of starlight wraps around him like a cloak before fading.
The fog dissipates, faces screaming, the flickering green energy vanishing leave just a thick cloud in the pub.
<OOC> Aryia crash through the window at 2,8, run up to ashwing, attempt to haymaker <OOC> Aryia says, "taking +2 to hit/ac" GAME: Aryia rolls acrobatics: (3)+16: 19, "acrobatics to get through the window" GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0+2: (4)+13+2: 19 <OOC> Aryia says, "using reroll" GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0+2: (11)+13+2: 26 GAME: Aryia rolls 1d100: (46): 46 (20% Miss Concealment - Hits) GAME: Aryia spends ONE use of STUNNING FIST. GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+7: (11)+7: 18, "dc 18 fort or stun" GAME: Aryia rolls damage0: aliased to 2d6+3: (5)+3: 8, "cold iron/silver/magic"
Seeing as the fog was dealt with by her massive friend, Aryia points to Telamon, her gritting her teeth as more of her life force was rent away, but she shakes her head and steadies herself. Pointing again, she swings a gesture wide to indicated the other patrons. Then points to the exit. "Telamon! Get them and get out!" she instructs to those that understand what she meant.
She turns, brings her arms up, then jumps through the window, shattering glass on the way out. The elf tumbles and pops up, sprinting towards the disguised fiend as she jumps.
It's an eerily familiar sight. Her fist shouldn't do much of anythi-
>CRACK!<
Oh. She's been training hard. Aryia bounces on the balls of her feet, glaring daggers at her. And that damn glowing gaze was infuriating to look at for some reason. <Handspeech>
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16 (Spiritual Ally AOO)
"HAHAHAHAHHA! You are so cute." The Ashwing laughs at Aryia as she explodes out of the Fernwood and runs up swinging. It's a solid blow, but doesn't stun her.
"Maybe you should close the Fernwood too!" She yells inside, giggling.
With a smirk, she bares her fangs at the Mul'niessa, "I'll see you ... later!"
She jumps, straight up, dodging and avoiding a swing of the Spiritual bill-hook. Higher, she withdraws, up above the streets and out of immediate line of sight.
A good ninety five feet up.
<OOC> Seyardu says, "I'm going outside the fernwood at the moment" <OOC> Seyardu says, "I think I'll just ready an action for now to cast align weapon on either Aryia if she can get up there somehow, <OOC> Seyardu says, "or Thurid if she comes through the door" <OOC> Seyardu says, "for what it's worth the spiritual ally is flying 30 feet up"
With the situation under control inside, somewhat at least, Seyardu sprints out the door, only to find the ashwing flying away. Seyardu growls, but there was little to do at this distance. She turns to Aryia.
"If you can get up there somehow, I will enchant your blows to strike it!" She shouts, waiting at the door anxiously
The evacuation continues, the patrons running for the alley. Dax is swept along with them.
<OOC> Thurid says, "I will squeeze through the window, and chase after her as far as a single move will take me." <OOC> Thurid says, "Then I'll cast Holy Smite" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "so your move with BoF is 90', 10' to get out the window then up 80', puts you.. 20' away, 15x 15y" <OOC> Thurid says, "I have 190' range with holy smite." GAME: Thurid casts Holy Smite. Caster Level: 9 DC: 18 GAME: Thurid rolls 9: (17)+9: 26 (vs SR 19) GAME: Thurid rolls 9d6: (28): 28 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+7: (11)+7: 18 (Ariavine's Will save)
Thurid sees the creature taking flight through the shattered remains of the window. She grits her teeth, and her wings of light flap, lifting her from the ground again. She crashes, shoulder first, into the window and forces her way through the narrow hole- bringing a cascade of glass shards and splintered wood in her wake as she takes to the air after the creature.
Her hammer trails behind her, held in one hand as her other one reaches for the holy icon about her neck. "Angoron, I beseech you, strike down this vile monster!" she bellows, her voice reverberating through the sky as she hurtles towards the fleeing Ashwing.
Her icon glows brightly, and lightning flashes in her eyes- mirrored by a bolt from the heavens. A bolt of pure, holy energy that strikes the creature with a blinding flash that sears its evil flesh.
<OOC> Telamon says, "I will move over to the guy at x7 y11 and start chivvying him along," <OOC> Telamon says, "while yelling at the guy at x5 y15 to come along as well."
Telamon stares at Aryia's gesticulations, but he gets the drift. Running over next to one of the last guests, who must be frozen in fear, he grabs the man's arm. "Come on, let's go." Hearing a magical detonation overhead, he grins. "Ooh, I bet -that- smarted..." He looks at the man near the organ. "Let's go, out, out, no more drinks tonight..." He pauses, and glances at the bar, where his tumbler of dwarven spirits is -still sitting-. "Well, one left, if you -really- want it..."
<OOC> Aryia says, "I'm going to do something stupid" <OOC> Aryia will royally fuck up abundant step. <OOC> Aryia says, "and take 20 falling damage" <OOC> Aryia says, "Dimension door 400 feet striaght up, fall down at around.. 1,12"
Aryia glares heavily as the Ashwing bares her fangs at the mute pugilist. She snarls back, trying to punch her again but was too slow.
She had to get up there. She HAD to get up there.
Her foot grinds into the ground, her stance lowers. Her emotions were all sorts of a mess as she punched into the river, grabbing at the ocean there and haphazardly yanking. Joy, sadness, resolve.
And she sprints. Up the wall, faster and faster until the only way to see her was the after images trailing behind her.
And she rockets up into the sky, waaay overshooting the Ashwing at nearly three hundred feet above her. Aryia gasps, her flailing her arms as gravity starts to take her. Down, down she falls, and lands on her feet a few seconds later with a distinctive crunch. Her face pales in pain.
The Ashwing shudders as she's smited, but still laughs at the giant jotun chasing her, "You're gonna make a big splat when you fall. Try not to crush anyone."
Then, Aryia is a blur, blasting up into the sky, falling back down to earth, a strange streaking parabola or fury.
"Well that's something." She does a roll in the sky, pointing down at the Fernwood patrons streaking away from the pub, "Hey, look who else didn't get away. Sure you want to take another shot at me and keep me here?"
She grins, "Didn't think so," and vanishes.
Thurid growls in frustration at the fleeing Ashwing- but she is distracted by Aryia's fall. "Aryia, No!" she bellows- spending a brief, conflicted moment glancing between the fading form of their quarry and her friend hurtling towards the ground, and then she hurtles towards the ground after her- she's a little slower than gravity, to save her own legs.
She sets the hammer down on the ground and drops to a knee next to her (much) shorter friend, reaching out a hand to lay it on her wounded leg- the other hand clutching her holy symbol.
<OOC> Thurid spontaniously casts cure moderate on Aryia. GAME: Thurid casts Bull's Strength. Caster Level: 9 DC: 16 GAME: Thurid rolls 2d8+9: (9)+9: 18 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "so she'd take 20, heal 18"
Telamon doesn't hear anything else from outside, and he doesn't hear any screams of fear or pain, so... guess... we won? He walks back over to the bar, picks up an overturned stool, and sets it upright, sitting down on it. He looks over at the still-untouched tumbler, then picks it up and shotguns the entire thing in one gulp. Looking around at the mess -- two smashed zombies, whatever the hell damaged part of the bar and the flooring near the main door, the overturned tables and chairs. "Well, they never mentioned THIS part in the stories about adventuring."
Seyardu looks up to the sky, watching them run away. Then she chuffs and shakes her head.
"I suppose it was too much to think that fiend was gone." She states with a shake of her head, and she is moving to check on Aryia. "I will not be caught off guard next time however. But, that is-"
She looks to the pub, and sighs. "After everyone is tended to, I will fetch some mourners from the soldier's defence."
Aryia falters on her feet before collapsing to the ground in a heap, her holding herself up by her hands as everything from the knees down was screaming in pain. If she didn't have these boots, she'd surely be dead.
She clutches at her legs, a spidering of bruises showns as she pulls her pant legs up. Fractured for sure. Though, she gasps in relief as Thurid heals her legs. She lulls her head back to let it clonk against the wooden wall.
Damn. Is she going to have to move? She was going to have to move...
In the aftermath, the adventurers are struck by things they would have, could have or should have done. Having the right spells prepared, Calm Emotions would have helped with the evacuation, and especially Dax. Or moving into melee range, though it wasn't clear the Erinyes was going to teleport. Dimensional Anchor, would have been a great spell to have, since they so often seem to escape that way.
At least they weren't throwing random things from their pockets or around the Fernwood, although it was getting close.
Dispel Magic! Someone should have had that ready too.
So many missed opportunities.
The silverscale is left with the lingering feeling that she managed to get someone killed with diplomacy.
The wizard figuring out how the fog could be hit, that was helpful. Very helpful.
Thirty seconds, that's all it took, to completely disrupt the Fernwood with unexpected battle. Speaking of fighting...
Always a bridesmaid....
With a certain amount of spectacle involed, even amidst the fog cover, such things as rapid evacuations from a place like the Fernwood tends to make waves.
With all the shouting and carying on, a silver tressed resident of the place finally arrives on scene with her everburning torch swaying from her weapons belt in a wrought iron cage paned with yellow tinted glass.
Brae's scythe is clutched in both hands, held in a warding posture as the Korite makes her way, not intending to acidentally gouge someone. The merc spends a few working through the crowd to get to where the fun is....
Was....
Whatever...
Breaking any tense silence of the aftermath with a look to the largely vacant building and an ominouse, "Nobody better'v messed with my shit."
Never a bride...
Combatty
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 2 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
22 Aryia 6
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21 Ashwing 1
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>> 19 Seyardu 1 <<
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17 Dax 1
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15 The Pub NPCs 1
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6 Thurid 1
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3 Telamon 1
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2 The Fog 1
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==============================================================================
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| Name | Race | Class | CHP | HP | AC/FF/T |CMD |For |Ref |Wil |
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|Aryia |SHADOW_ELF|Mnk | 67 | 75 |23/18/22 | 33 | 9 | 12 | 7 |
|Dax |HUMAN |Ftr | 65 | 65 |23/19/16 | 24 | 8 | 7 | 3 |
|Seyardu |SITH-MAKAR|Clr | 63 | 85 |19/19/10 | 18 | 10 | 3 | 10 |
|Telamon |HALF-ELF |Sor | 11 | 11 |12/10/12 | 14 | 1 | 2 | 3 |
|Thurid |GIANTBORN |Clr | 76 | 76 |23/21/14 | 25 | 9 | 5 | 10 |
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| Name | CHP (T) | HP |
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| Aryia.........| 51 | 75 |
| Seyardu.......| 74 | 85 |
| Telamon.......| 11 | 11 |
| Thurid........| 72 | 76 |
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Map
https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=mz3ey9fo1ek
Scene music
The Fog https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBR6oJr8vRQ
Dark Ambient https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvr4dDP_8mw
Cryo Chambre https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cdx73SndLYc