Con-spicuous Consumption
Log Info
- Title: Con-spicuous Consumption
- Emitter: Jinks, Paenitia
- Characters: Lysos, Ravenstongue, Rocky, Silmeria, Telamon
- Place: Alexandrian Sewers
- Time: Tuesday, April 12, 2022, 5:00 PM
- Summary:
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Lysos 5'6" 105 Lb Human/Tsuran Female Dark eyed tsuran girl. Ravenstongue 5'0" 99 Lb Half-Elf Female Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair. Rocky 6'8" 460 Lb Sith-Makar Male A grey Sith in armor, bit like a statue. Silmeria 5'8" 126 Lb Human Female A sweet-looking blond human in a long black dress and breastplate. Telamon 5'6" 140 Lb Half-Elf Male A platinum-blond half-sil man with dancing dark eyes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= NPCs of Note -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jaenrahne Cambion Female A sewer dwelling, prideful demon -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Helping out =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The Explorer's Guild, midday
The contract originally came through the city watch but that was weeks ago. So there's no Mister Johnson to meet you in one of the guild's many private rooms and explain the particulars. Instead, you find yourselves assembling in the foyer while others mill before or after jobs or cross through to their own sequestered audiences.
The shift administrator has the files out having refreshed herself on the job's particulars. She looks down from her raised seat behind the tall desk, pushing copper-blonde bangs to one side before they fall right back into place. Ink smudges her forehead, hair, and fingertips. She wears a smart vest and a fine shirt-- so white it's nearly blue-- with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
"So. Yes. Um, hello." Papers are shifted and she pushes her glasses further up onto her nose, adding the newest streak of blue-black ink to her face; an interesting contrast to her freckles. "The regular constabulary of Alexandria... blah, blah, blah... contract offered at... yes, yes, yes... missing-- AH! Here we are," she looks up and smiles. "I think they get paid by the word sometimes!" Her other hand covers her mouth as she clears her throat.
"'Personal effects to be retrieved and returned to the executor of Master Twedwembew's estate fow distwibution-- AHEM-- FOR dis-TRI-bution to his living heirs. The estate was burguwd--... gods bless it-- during the celebration of life. Suspects likely posing as serving staff during the event.'" She lays the paper flat and looks down from on high at the group. "The original group that was contracted couldn't find any trace of the thieves and so the mystery has gone unsolved. That was Eatonis..." shuffle, shuffle, shuffle "27th. An Eliday. Just over two weeks ago."
Cor'lana is here. As is Pothy. She's dressed in her adventurer clothes ready to go, and Pothy's dressed in... Well, just his feathers and his snacking attitude. He leans into her ear and whispers one word and one word only: "Snacks."
"Later, Pothy," Cor'lana says, violet eyes fixed on the administrator as her hand wraps around that of another half-elf's in the room. "So we're the backup group. Okay. Well, second go around at things usually goes better than the first, right?"
One does *not* fiddle with postmortem affairs. As an executor herself, Silmeria has a personal, professional interest in seeing this job completed. After all, if the affairs of the dead aren't handled properly, it could be that they'll come back to handle matters themselves, and that simply *won't* do.
"Until today, assumedly?" she says from her seat, head tilting to one side. Blue eyes dart to Cor'lana as she speaks up, and she smiles warmly, nodding her agreement.
No terrifying monsters? No shady deals in the dark? No hint of sewer spelunking or swamp swimming? Sign Lysos up! Not that anyone who knows her would think for a moment that sleuthing was her particular strength. Still, she tries. "Have they found anything new, then? Or is this more of a case of throwing more people at a job?"
Hey, flowers and poetry and tea won't pay for themselves. Which is how Telamon finds himself here hand in hand with Cor'lana. Not that he minds, but it amuses him, the things he does sometimes.
He cocks his head slightly, listening to the administrator. "No trace at all?" he says in some surprise. "And you say 'likely posing as serving staff'. Which means they don't actually know. It could've been -- what's the term? An inside job?" He reaches up with his free hand to rub his chin. "Very curious."
Rocky is dressed in... well, armor. And hide. His hide. It's attached. The hide, not the armor. "Find stuff, maybe thieves? Get stuff to right people?"
"'Until today!'" The woman agrees, smiling brightly at Silmeria. "Though... it's a bit of a 'good-news-bad-news' for you?" The smile turns sheepish and she opens a drawer, rifling through it until she finds a polished pair of brass tongs. Clack, clack, clack, they go as she tests them. Then she's using the tool to pick up a stained and wrinkled piece of paper where it sits alone on her desk.
Then she half-stands and leans forward over the desk, extending her arm for someone to take the piece of paper. "... if one of you has gloves?" She peels her lips back to show teeth as she wrinkles her nose. It's gross, apparently. Hence the tongs.
"Someone found this... on the banks of the Tornmawr beneath the northern bridge. It was in a puddle of-- AHEM-- sewer water beneath a drainage pipe." She looks up from the dangling paper to offer an apologetic smile. "They want part of the reward. We'll make sure they get a small share if it bears fruit."
Rocky has no gloves. He does have thick skin, apathy towards sewage, and an ability to wash up later. "Is known who found this?"
Silmeria smooths out her lap, then -- thankfully she does indeed have gloves -- leans forward to gingerly take the paper, tugging outward at the edges to make it legible for anyone who wants to lean closer and read. "The sewers, hm?"
Nobody likes sewer jobs, as a general rule. Even the ones who are fond of the environs, tend to be worn down by the hazards they face among the otyughs. And the Speaker for the Dead is no different... but the mission trumps personal discomfort. "Well... they can't all be flights into Dragonier, I suppose..."
Telamon's eyebrows rise up. "Wonderful. Cor'lana, didn't you tell me you'd had a couple adventures down there? I think after the last time you said you burned the clothes you wore because you couldn't get the smell out." He carefully shifts around so he can see the sheet as well, nose wrinkled. "Will the guild reimburse us for laundry expenses?" he asks a bit rhetorically.
Lysos's expression freezes in place at the mention of the sewer. "The sewers," she says flatly. "Great. That's.. great." She shies away a little bit as Silmeria accepts the tainted paper.. then lets her breath out, reasserting some control over expression. "Oh, you're in for a treat, then," she promises Telamon. "Might want to bring your big boots, though."
Cor'lana opens her mouth, but then Pothy says: "Tongs!"
He flaps over to the desk next to the woman. And he opens /his/ mouth. He lifts up a talon... and he is offering his beak or one of his precious raven feetsies to hold it.
"I did have a couple of adventures in the sewers, yes," Cor'lana says, responding to her beau with a look that is quickly souring like milk. "But, umm--Pothy, please..."
"TONGS," Pothy insists. He wants to hold the gross thing.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Linguistics: (15)+3: 18 GAME: Telamon rolls linguistics: (18)+5: 23
Pothy is too late! Silmeria has the filthy note in hand. The thing smells of dead fish and the river, mostly, but close up you can't help but enjoy the particular scents of Alexandria's sewer. At some point it was sprayed generously with perfume but those scents have lost the battle.
"KUM TO SUER (this line is crossed out)
KAPTUR THEEF
(something in Jotun)
GIT JUELS
ALL GOLD GOOD MUNNI!!!"
The administrator has sat back and is spritzing her tongs with the same perfume before dropping them somewhere beneath the desk. She clearly plans to clena them before they go back in the drawer. "A scamp," she answers Rocky. "A yrchblood woman called Lsberta with no address. She asked that we bring her reward to the Soldier's Defense where she gets a warm meal as they're offered. She said she was trying to fish when she found it."
Turning the note over, it can be discovered that the paper is an old posting for a performance in the theatre district. But it's well and truly faded, soiled, and repurposed.
"...Shut up, don't come," Silmeria says, picking out the badly-written Jotun. Shifting her grip, such that the note is held by the barest scrap of paper between two fingers, the Speaker sits back, brows furrowed. "How odd... Perhaps it's less an invitation than an ambush, do you think? Though... if there aren't any other leads, I *have* always heard that the best way to deal with a trap is to spring it on your terms..."
Telamon studies the paper, careful not to touch it. "Pothy, stop that," he says a bit pointedly. "The penmanship is... somewhat lacking," he remarks. "And the letter seems... a bit forced. Still, it's a lead, even if a thin one." He glances at the administrator, then to Silmeria. "Who writes 'shut up, don't come' down though? It's like those novels where the protagonist finds the journal and the last entry says, 'They've found me! Arrrrrrggghh...'." He shakes his head. "Regardless. I think a visit might be in order."
Rocky doesn't understand the issue. Just flex your nostril muscles and close them shut, like you do when swimming. Why are softskins oblivious to simple solutions? "Sewer, near north bridge. Seek, find, maybe fight." He considers the details. "Maybe note is dictation?"
"Less an ambush, more of a ransom exchange.." Lysos opines. "They don't sound smart enough to make it a trap." She's still keeping her distance. "Possibly just pretending to have 'captured' the thieves though."
Pothy throws his head back... and he sighs deeply. The corvid returns to Cor'lana's shoulder quickly and the half-elf sorceress simply pats him on the head. "There'll be other gross things you can poke at, Pothy," she reassures him quietly.
Then Cor'lana looks back at Telamon and Silmeria as they read the note. Her face screws up into a puzzled look. "I'm with Lysos," she says, lifting her hand to her nose and trying (somewhat fruitlessly) to bat the bad aroma away. "I guess all we can do is take a look there, right?"
"Both of those are good possibilities," Silmeria says, tilting her head and offering the paper back to the administrator. "A third springs to mind, if it is dictation; the thieves can't write, grabbed someone who could, and *they're* trying to warn us off. Ambush or no, we don't really have any other options. So... As you say, Lysos."
"Oh, no..." The administrator shakes her head, leaning back. "I made a note. Feel free to keep it for your, uh... investigations. It might come in handy." She's not a great liar even with a hand raised to cover her nose.
Telamon tosses in, "It's not anywhere as good an ambush if people expect it." He eyes the note in disgust, then begins rummaging around inside his bag. "I know I've got a pouch in here somewhere..." Finding it, he opens it up, then offers it to Silmeria to drop inside. "Waterproof," he explains. "But I'm not keeping it inside my haversack."
Lysos taps two fingers to her forehead, then nods, bouncing out of her seat. "I'll meet the rest of you there, then," she says, after getting very specific directions. "Going to go buy a pair of the big boots."
"You're a dear," the Vardaman says to Telamon with a bright smile, doing her best to roll the paper up -- without, like, touching it too much -- and stuffing it into the pouch. "So... let's get after our quarry, then. Lady willing, we'll at least find a thread to follow among the... everything in the sewers that isn't a thread."
All that remains now is to pick an approach. The sewers are big. The location where the note was found is known, and the note is in hand. The paper seems to have originated from the theatre district.
Rocky plans to head to the described sewere outlet, climb in, and start searching. But is perfectly willing to have that plan altered
Ravenstongue says, "We should poke around where the note was found."
Telamon nods. Start where the note was found and work from there."
Lysos says, "How about the entrance near the theatre district. The outlet near where the note was found would have been fed by who knows how many arteries and sub-arteries."
Silmeria points at Lysos, "This. We can ask after particularly odorous and unkempt people collecting playbills, since we'll be there."
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (2)+4+2: 8 GAME: Lysos rolls perception: (11)+10: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (8)+12: 20 GAME: Silmeria rolls perception: (19)+20: 39
The pleasant afternoon is a mocking thing as you travel from the guildhall to the northern bridge. Bright, warm sunlight and clear blue skies without a single cloudy blemish. Eluna hangs distant and ghostly, half-hidden by the burning glow of Daeus. It's a gorgeous day and you're heading for the sewers. Nothing like a bit of bad luck.
There's little traffic in the Tornmawr with the tide out. Ships will wait for safer sailing in deeper waters. The shadows are deep beneath the bridge.
You find the drainage pipe in question set against the brickwork reinforcing the western rise of the city. The earth beneath your feet is verdant with fresh spring growth. There's a low dip and a pool beneath the edge of the protruding pipe, a thin stream or water trickling to pitter and splash without interruption.
At one point there was a solid set of steel bars to keep people out of the sewers but those have long since fallen to rust-- or maybe just rotted away from the stink. One or two full bars remain and the rest are varied lengths of jagged teeth; metallic stalagmites and -tites that threaten festering wounds and lockjaw if you're not careful. Trash and fetid waste cling to the obstructions at the bottom of the pipe.
The air is warmer at the mouth of the pipe. Thicker, too. A cool breeze pushes past as Tarien laughs, reminding you what a nice day it is anywhere BUT the sewers.
Telamon stares at the pipe, taking in the awful prospect of entering that. "You actually went in there?" he says softly to Cor'lana, his voice slightly horrified. "Gods. I... I know I've said it before but you really are stronger than me in some ways." He pulls out a handkerchief, covering his mouth for a moment. "This is going to be really, really unpleasant, isn't it?"
GAME: Lysos rolls knowledge/dungeoneering: (4)+4: 8 GAME: Silmeria rolls knowledge/dungeoneering: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Rocky rolls knowledge/dungeoneering: (19)+5: 24
Cor'lana sighs as she stands at the mouth of the pipe with the others. "Why do I find myself wishing I had that... really strong-smelling medicine that Grandfather offered me when I had a cold last?" she asks herself. "I think if you rubbed that into your nose, Tel, you'd smell that instead of... this."
Pothy seems entirely unperturbed. "Smells like roses!" he says, imitating the voice of a kindly old woman.
"I wish it did," Cor'lana laments. "And yes, I went in the sewer. Had to. ...Just hope if I have to charm anyone we meet down there, /they/ don't fall in love with me, too."
Rocky enjoys the pleasant day along the way, and equally accepts the lack upon arrival. "Life is what one makes of it. Enjoy the pleasant company." Glancing to the other, the sith shrugs and heads in, alert for more scribbled 'notes'.
Lysos has had time to resign herself to it. In fact, she's feeling almost positive once she's arrived, wearing thick boots that reach all the way up to her knees; this is known because she's also pulled the hem of her dress up part ways so she can bind it and do her best to keep it free from the filth flowing out of the pipe. Tarien may be laughing, but she's decided today is going to be one of the good days where she just accepts that bad luck as a matter of course.
Concessions will need to be made for lights. Rocky is the only one with darkvision in the group.
"Don't worry," Silmeria chuckles, patting Telamon's shoulder. "After a couple hours, you stop smelling the stink. Usually just in time to have to avoid falling in, in the middle of a fight." Her other hand drops to her hip, extracting a pistol with perhaps an irresponsible amount of elaborate artwork hammered in. "Mori, dear? It's time to wake up, we're probably going to need you."
<<ACKNOWLEDGED,>> says a distorted, harmonic voice from within the firearm. The designs begin to glow with a wavering, silvery light. <<COMBAT READY. ENVIRONMENT: SEWER. PROBABILITY OF REQUIRING 60-DAY MAINTENANCE: APPROACHES CERTAINTY.>>
GAME: Lysos casts Light. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (11)+12: 23 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (20)+4+2: 26 GAME: Rocky rolls perception: (14)+12: 26 GAME: Lysos rolls perception: (5)+10: 15 GAME: Silmeria rolls perception: (16)+20: 36 GAME: Lysos casts Prestidigitation. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17
Enchanted lights spill into the dark pipe as you climb up off of terra firma into the aging and defiled construction. The fumes and the gasses are thick enough in patches that the illuminating magics waver and distort shadows when they push through the haze. Most of the fluid is thin and brackish but there are darker, thicker puddles that one likely makes every effort to avoid.
Rats of assorted sizes scurry away from the mercenary's advance. Insectoid vermin roil across the dank walls or fold in and out of cracks. The sound of running 'water' is occasionally interrupted by a lower burble, slop, or belch. In places the water cascades down to splash chaotically from overhead drains and hanging pipes.
There's a slight ascent to the going and it's not long before you reach your first intersection. Which way to go?
Lysos is busy trying to get some filth that's splashed up out of her eye but everyone else notices a handful of trash that can be attributed to the theatre district on the leftmost option; playbills, a discarded bit of costume (what used to be a bright-yellow hat with a green plume, a purple scarf), and half of a similar flier.
Telamon is trying not to gag. It takes him a few moments, but be damned if he's going to falter now. He offers Cor'lana a shaky smile. "I'm just... going to think about a LONG bath. With good soap." He raises his hand, a ball of light floating above the ring he wears there, pushing back the gloom. And his eyes fall upon the discarded trash on the left side. "Hm... Lana, look at that. Clues, perhaps?"
"Clues," Silmeria confirms, spectacles flashing in the light as she picks her way over the waterway toward the pile. Kneeling, she gingerly nudges filth-soaked detritus aside, to reveal a scrap of newspaper. "Careful... Three Brother and One Sister. Ate Forth... fourth? Mean Trolls."
"Well," she says, rising back to her feet. "I think the idea of a hostage is getting more likely by the moment. And trolls, lovely." No, it's not lovely at all, but the Speaker doesn't seem *terribly* perturbed. Perhaps her nose shut down already? Cor'lana looks at the discarded trash--her eyes in particular lingering on a playbill for... "Is that a playbill for 'Daeus Light Superstar'? Oh gods. We can't escape Handel Boyd Weaver even in the sewers--nnnno, wait, I don't think so--"
And then she catches Silmeria's voice. "Trolls? /That's/ disturbing."
"Troll under the bridge," Pothy murmurs in a deep, rumbly tone. Thanks Pothy. He gets a pat on the head.
Aside from her boots, Lysos came extra prepared. A few stones for enchanting with magical torchlight, one of which she applies just as the group enters. Another is a scarf which she applies some magical 'flavouring' to try and counteract the stench of the sewers. It tries valiantly, but it's a losing battle.. at best it spares her from the worst of it. Of course, no amount of preparation can prepare one for all the bad luck. She lost a belt pouch from the start.. it caught upon one of the jagged bars and ripped open, spilling some of her adventuring gear into the slop pouring out of the pipe. Chalk, a few of her stones, a length of twin and her firestarting flint. And then there's the splash of filth she got in her eye which, after crying a little bit about it, she manages to mostly clear out with her minor magic and the end of her sniffing scarf. But at least she manages to keep following.
Rocky knows trolls are just trying to get attention, be it positive or negative. Just ignore them and they'll get bored and leave. "Fire and acid, yes? Fire in sewer maybe bad idea. Burning gasses."
GAME: Silmeria rolls survival: (17)+10: 27 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Survival: (14)+2: 16 GAME: Rocky rolls survival: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Lysos rolls knowledge/dungeoneering: (7)+4: 11 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+0: (18)+0: 18 (Telamon's Survival)
The sewer systems of Alexandria are vast and convoluted. Alterations, expansions, and repairs have been made over the centuries. It's very likely that gnomes and gobbers have been involved. Then there were occupations and resistance movements using this terrible corridors are hiding spaces. In short: it's a mess.
Navigating the stonework corridors and oversized pipes is quite the task; this place could easily be mistaken as a labyrinth constructed by a madman. Silmeria and Telamon, both, do their best keeping you pointed towards the general direction of the theatre district and avoiding the assorted hazards. The sorcerer points out a drain nearly hidden by dark waters that looks like it wouldn't support half the group. Silmeria detours around a tunnel after noticing a lack of flowing water on the floor. Closer inspection reveals the tell-tale sheen of some variety of ooze serving as a roadblock. The all-devouring sewage filter is left alone for now and another path is selected.
What feels like days has likely only been a couple of hours... there's phlegm in the back of your throat and your eyes are starting to burn.
<OOC>GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+14: (20)+14: 34 (Troll 1 Perception) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+14: (10)+14: 24 (Troll 2 Perception) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+14: (18)+14: 32 (Troll 3 Perception) GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (17)+4+2: 23 GAME: Rocky rolls perception: (16)+12: 28 GAME: Silmeria rolls perception: (3)+20: 23 GAME: Lysos rolls perception: (12)+10: 22 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26 (Telamon Perception) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+15: (7)+15: 22 (Troll 1 Perception, at least +5 for distance) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+15: (9)+15: 24 (Troll 2 Perception, at least +5 for distance) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+15: (13)+15: 28 (Troll 3 Perception, at least +5 for distance)
~Adventurers.~ Telepathy is not always words, at times, especially with developing minds, it is impressions and sensations. Jaenrahne, the recipient, does express herself in a more focused way and quizzes her 'boys'. ~How many?~
~Five~, One answers. ~Also five~, Another mind responds. ~Can't see.~ The third voice.
~Get a better look, describe them.~ Impressions flood and fills the cambion's mind.
There is movement but it's impossible to pinpoint the direction it's coming from. Some of the detritus to the 'east' in that bigger blue watery area are bones and such.
A salvaged flier is stuck to the side of the sewer with a generous dollop of... well, really, it's just best not to look too closely at this things. The woodstamped profile of a bard is covered with more smeared filth shaped into a crude message:
- DANJUR --->
- NEST
- PINK TROL FREN
- MUNNI REWARD
At the edges of the light thrown by the magic spells the tunnel seems to open up. There's more detritus sitting in the water. The sound of soiled liquid running and splashing is louder here, echoing off the walls of larger spaces.
GAME: Telamon casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17
Telamon raises his hand, pausing to gag a bit. "Hold it... I hear something." He turns, looking around left and right nervously. His fingers suddenly dance in a practiced motion. "Akar irhandi," calling shifting planes of force into reality around him, glowing softly before they subside. "Anyone see anything?" he asks, sounding a bit strained.
Rocky chuffs quietly, drawing his blade "Bones. Not sure of what."
"Nothing more than the usual," Silmeria says with some regret. "And the sign... hm. Pink Troll Friend. So... Try not to hurt the pink one, I suppose, if we can help it. Mori... isn't terribly good at the soft touch, so if it comes to it, Rocky, can you make sure the pink one lives?"
GAME: Lysos used a Wand of Mage Armor.
Lysos is still trying to rub the filth from her eye. It's probably gone by now, at least as good as it's going to get without washing it with acid, but she keeps rubbing it nonetheless. At least she stays quiet, especially as the hours drag on.. she's familiar to how extended exposure to this place can wear tempers thing. When the group stops, she does so managing not to bump into anybody.. and once it gets pointed out to her, she sees the artistic note left on the wall. So she follows Telemon's example, drawing forth a plain, slim wand to cover self in a similar enchantment. "I see nothing," she admits afterwords in a low voice.
Rocky nods to Silmeria. "Will try."
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 7 DC: 16
"Me neither," Cor'lana admits, despite having the same capacity of vision that her beau has. Pothy's croaking a little grumpily into her ear, preventing her from focusing. She does, however, cast a protective spell on herself with a murmured incantation.
~Spells~ The first troll thinks, conveying an impression of what it sees, two well armoured foes, one with an unusual crossbow, three lightly armoured elves making magical gestures.
~Okay. A gunslinger, a sith'makar warrior, and three wizards. Ono, lay down a desecrate to confuse them, Dito, darkness at the end of the passage, Treg, move up and be ready to attack if they charge into the room. Stay out of sight. Mistress is doing spells.~
<OOC> Paenitia says, "SLA and a darkness in the tunnel" <OOC> Jinks says, "So, recall that Lysos and Sil are 20' of normal light and 20' of dim." <OOC> Jinks says, "RT and Tel will have 40' normal and 40' dim. Rocky is 60' darkvision." <OOC> Paenitia says, "it will just hit the front line of the part, spellcraft to figure it out?" <OOC> Jinks says, "dim is 20% miss chance on attack rolls." GAME: Telamon rolls spellcraft: (18)+11: 29 (Desecrate)
Sewers are unpleasant places, slimy walls, a foul stream that trickles down the centre of the tunnel, air which stings the eyes and sears the nostrils. The stomach churns. Even the resilient cannot avoid the squish of something unknowable underfoot.
And then it gets worse. All the colour drains from the world, there are flickers of darkness at the edge of vision, screams, distant and faint, imagined more than real. A sensation of suffering, evil, the antipathy of light and life.
It falls like an oppressive weight along the tunnel, and at the end of it, everything goes dark. Impenetrably dark.
And further, somewhere beyond the darkness, a voice murmurs in unrecognizable echoes.
Out of sight and around the corner, the cambion vanishes completely as she becomes invisible. Meanwhile, the second troll, Dito, gets ready to attack anything that comes out of the passage.
Ravenstongue says, "That is not kosher."
Silmeria says, "That is *inconvenient.*"
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (17)+4+2: 23
There is noise, coming from the eastern direction, but there is an echo from the north tunnel that indicates they're connected somehow. Nothing from the south.
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "Okay. I am going to use T3 Fae-touched Aspect to cast faerie fire as an SLA." <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "(I get 2/day because of Major Aspect Tattoo, so this is #1.) Going to pin it down at... 11,11?" GAME: Lysos casts Light. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17 GAME: Lysos casts Prestidigitation. Caster Level: 9 DC: 17
Cor'lana peers hard into the dark, where there's nothing and there's everything that is awful. She lifts her hand and calls out:
"Keep true only to the far lights!" <Sylvan>
A flourish of violet light in the world of dark, but it quickly dissipates, as nothing was there. Nothing in the dark. Nothing.
"Grandfather needs to teach more more Sylvan poetry," she murmurs to herself.
GAME: Telamon casts Haste. Caster Level: 7 DC: 19
Telamon shudders. "A desecration spell. That means undead, my friends." He weaves a complex pattern of silver light between his fingers, and incants, "Lukas sa i'iz." A flash that limns him in silver and blue, that then jumps to Rocky, then Silmeria, then Cor'lana and Lysos. Speeding their movements and quickening their pace.
<OOC> Silmeria says, "Okay. Swift action, Judgments of Justice and Purity." <OOC> Silmeria says, "Standard action, cast Bless since I know everyone's in range." <OOC> Silmeria says, "Move action, carefully move to 5,11. <OOC> Lysos hisses. The bless. How it burns. GAME: Silmeria casts Bless. Caster Level: 9 DC: 13
"Undead?" In the darkness, Silmeria *audibly* perks up, and the sound of a hammer ratcheting back and locking into place seems *very* loud in the magical gloom. "Oh, *good.*"
Vardaman clergy are *weird.*
Picking her way forward in the lightless depths, the Speaker murmurs litanies to her goddess under her breath, feeling -- if not currently seeing -- the familiar cold, relentless drive of Vardama's blessing suffusing her, guiding her hand and protecting her body and soul... a blessing she passes on to her compatriots.
So Death is on your side, now. That's nice.
GAME: Lysos casts Invisibility. Caster Level: 9 DC: 19 <OOC> Lysos says, "Move 1,10 please."
"Obscurio!" intones Lysos, releasing gathered power after sketching a quick oval in front of her.. then poking her finger through it. And then she vanishes.
<OOC> Rocky says, "Ah, okay. Head to about 8:12, smack anything that jumps out." GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (13)+9: 22 (Dito has a readied action, vs FF - Miss) GAME: Rocky rolls weapon9+1: (7)+11+1: 19
A swish of air, a flash in the darkness that only the sith'makar can see, and the sound of claws ringing off armour. Something was waiting to pounce... and missed.
Rocky sing songs idly. "Roses are red, violets are purple. Colors are hard. Nothing rhymes with 'purple.'" Moving ahead, the sith strides into the darkness, ready to smack something jumping out at him, but not before it lands the first blow. A bloodless hit, but better than the grey scales own wiff. 'Is not troll This One has seen before!' <sylvan>
Rocky would be a paladin if he served a god instead of the Silver Empress
~Treg, charge in, assist Dito. Smite that lizard.~ Jeanrahne telepathically commands.
~Ono, rage out~
GAME: Treg rolls 1d20+9+2+3: (12)+9+2+3: 26 (+2 Charge, +3 Smite) GAME: Ono rolls 1d20+9+2: (6)+9+2: 17 (+2 Smite) GAME: Ono rolls 1d20+9+2: (13)+9+2: 24 (+2 Smite) GAME: Ono rolls 1d20+9+2: (20)+9+2: 31 (+2 Smite) (THREAT) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9+2: (10)+9+2: 21 (+2 Smite) (Not confirmed) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d4+7+1: (3)+7+1: 11
Splashing, someone running through water, a chant in a low, guttural language, followed by another attack that rings off the granite-scale's armour.
Duplicated, with a fury and flurry, more attacks that seem ineffectual at best, but one finally draws blood.
<OOC> Paenitia: Jaenrahen her put up her shield, moves 5' to 11,15 to keep an eye on things.
There are more infernal murmurings, somewhere in the sewers.
~Mistress. What do?~ A query is made, receiving an oddly possessive response, ~Oh Dito, I told you, call me 'mother'. I gave you a part of myself, you're my child in all the senses.~
~But what do? Lizard hard.~
The returning thought is full of confidence, ~Hold him for your brothers.~
<OOC> Paenitia says, "Grapple Rocky" GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (9)+9: 18 (vs CMD - fail) GAME: Rocky rolls weapon9+1: (9)+11+1: 21 (AOO - Miss)
Claws slide across the sith-makar, but fail to grab hold.
<OOC> Telamon says, "Advance to 6,12 and trigger my T3 Aspect. Daylight. That should wipe out the darkness." <OOC> Jinks nods! "The spells counter. So normal light, dim light, etc. <OOC> Telamon is still holding a 'normal' Light spell, so we see everything :)
Telamon swears. "That darkness, it's not normal..." He moves forward, swiftly, but with caution, vanishing into the dark. Even the soft glow from his ring is no longer visible.
And then he says, in Celestial, "Let there be light!"
There's a -flash- in the darkness, and then it seems to just splinter, a brilliant flare of blue-white light blazing outward from Telamon. Those behind him can see a pattern of lines glowing along his back under his tunic, like a sunburst, as illumination floods back into the area.
<OOC> Ravenstongue says, "I am going to delay my turn to after Telamon's." GAME: Ravenstongue casts Glitterdust. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+5: (4)+5: 9 (vs DC17 - Fail, Ono Blinded) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+5: (3)+5: 8 (vs DC17 - Fail, Dito Blinded) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+5: (19)+5: 24 (vs DC17 - Success, Treg ok) GAME: Rocky rolls will: (8)+3: 11 (vs DC17 - Fail) <OOC> Rocky says, "...eh, reroll" GAME: Rocky rolls will: (18)+3: 21 (vs DC17 - Success)
Cor'lana /was/ going to try and do something, but then her fiance steps forward... and becomes light. She blinks a handful of times--and then she realizes there's light again. She can see! /She can see!/
"Okay, let's go," she says cheerfully. Fey whim has overridden the mortal cause for concern.
It's time for the fairy dust, which gets all over the not-so-trolls, getting in the eyes of two of them. Extra-shiny in the wake of her grossly incandescent other half.
GAME: Silmeria rolls knowledge/the planes: (8)+11: 19 GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10 (EPIC FAIL) (AOO - Miss) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (11)+9: 20 (AOO - Miss) <OOC> Silmeria says, "Channeling Scourge lets my Cleric and Inquisitor levels stack for the purpose of channel-bombing. Alignment Channel -- Evil lets me damage evil Outsiders." <OOC> Silmeria needs a DC 19 will save from all three, pls. GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7 (will vs DC19 - Fail) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25 (will vs DC19 - Success) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+5: (18)+5: 23 (will vs DC19 - Success) GAME: Silmeria rolls 5d6: (24): 24
"Oh," Silmeria says, as the darkness is stripped away by Telamon's power. The Speaker is limned in a thin, flickering silver radiance, and her smile grows into a killer's grin as she finally gets a good look at their assailants. "Oh... *Demon* trolls."
Vardama's clergy are *super* weird.
Darting forward, ducking and weaving around the sweeping claws, the Speaker skids to a stop, lifting her gun to the sky. "IN THE NAME OF THE GREY LADY, YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE! IN THE NAME OF THE RESTFUL DEAD, YOUR SINS WILL BE ENGRAVED ON YOUR SOULS! IN THE NAME OF ALEXANDRIA, I COMMAND YOU, *GET YOU OFF THE SKIN OF THIS WORLD!*"
As her castigation closes, there is the sound of a huge, deep silver bell tolling, and a blast of ghostly light roils forth from her body. Her companions, touched with the Lady's blessing, feel nothing as the light passes over and through them, but the trolls...
For half a heartbeat, it almost seemed as if the trolls' souls were tugged away from their body, as if by a multitude of hooks and lines.
Screams erupt in Jaenrahne's mind, agony and pain. ~Corocaranth's Corkscrew Cock! What the Blessed was that?~ She frantically demands. She is answered by the shock of empty thoughts.
<OOC> Lysos says, "Move up to 7,11 and hit Silmeria with a Blur." GAME: Lysos casts Blur. Caster Level: 9 DC: 19
Having made herself as much of a non-target as possible, Lysos swiftly moves behind Silmeria, hopefully unseen. There isn't much she can do about her voice; hopefully it will be lost in the din of battle. "Nearybleary!" she says, touching the Vardaman on the back before hastily stepping back again.
<OOC> Rocky says, "Full attack, start with 3, change to 2 if it falls" GAME: Rocky rolls weapon9+1: (2)+11+1: 14 GAME: Rocky rolls weapon9+1: (2)+11+1: 14 (Haste attack) GAME: Rocky rolls weapon9+1-5: (15)+11+1+-5: 22
Rocky blinks at the sudden light, and again at the shower of glitter, allowing neither to distract him as he raises his massive blade, magically fast. The iron sword sweeps through the air, but fails to land a soild blow.
~Boys, boys, Mamma is here. We got this~ Jaenrahne's thoughts are oddly calming and considerate for a demoness addressing her minions. ~Change in plans, switch to hit and run. Treg, back all the way down the east corridor, drop a darkness. Ono...~
~Blind~ The first troll's thought interrupts, and is echoed by Dito, ~Also blind~
~It's okay sweetie, listen to Mother. Ono, down the same corridor as Treg, drop a darkness at the irons bars. Dito, south corridor, turn the corner and go three paces, lay down a darkness. A distraction is coming up.~
<OOC> Paenitia says, "T3 is withdrawing, backwinging it to 19,12" <OOC> Paenitia says, "T1 is doing a move, can still move while blind, put him at 14,11 might prompt AOOs" <OOC> Paenitia says, "Jean move to 13,10, glitterdust 7,12. Her invisible will drop but she'll be in the darkness." GAME: Rocky rolls weapon9+1: (18)+11+1: 30 GAME: Rocky rolls damage9: aliased to 1d10+5: (6)+5: 11 (magic cold iron) <OOC> Paenitia says, "So, Glitterdust at 7,12, all but Ravenstongue roll will saves, DC16" GAME: Rocky rolls will: (8)+3: 11 GAME: Lysos rolls will: (20)+7: 27 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Silmeria rolls will+1: (4)+10+1: 15 <OOC> Silmeria will take my reroll. GAME: Silmeria rolls will+1: (10)+10+1: 21 GAME: Telamon rolls will: (2)+8: 10 <OOC> Telamon says, "I'll reroll." GAME: Telamon rolls will: (11)+8: 19 <OOC> Jinks says, "No one can see the cambion in the new darkness spell." <OOC> Paenitia says, "T2 around corner to 11,16, Rocky is blind so no AOO, more darkness" <OOC> Lysos says, "I imagine my invisibility is now countered by the glitterdust as well."
The troll-fiends, whatever their pedigree, wilt as Silmeria draws upon her divine gift and lays the smackdown. They snarl, the one that was the most injured and in front of Rocky readying for an attack. His head raises, as if hearing something, and immediately he backwings, withdrawing across the room and down the far corridor.
This action is duplicated by the troll-fiend nearest to Silmeria. Although, this one is blind, a clumsy and awkward flight takes it away, the sith'makar's swipe just missing it. As it passes the bars on the other corridor, a darkness drops, filling half the room.
Almost immediately after this, a glitterbomb explodes in the midst of the party. All are sparkling.
Clearly, things are being coordinated as the remaining troll-fiend flies to the southern exit, and more darkness blankets the room.
GAME: Telamon rolls perception: (14)+12: 26 GAME: Silmeria rolls perception: (14)+20: 34 GAME: Lysos rolls perception: (13)+10: 23
Water is running under the wall to the north of Lysos's space.
<OOC> Telamon nods. II'll throw a fireball centered on 13,11. GAME: Telamon casts Fireball. Caster Level: 7 DC: 19 GAME: Telamon rolls 7d6: (24): 24 GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (12)+7: 19 (vs SR14 - Success) GAME: Telamon rolls 1d20+7: (8)+7: 15 (vs SR13 - Success) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10 (EPIC FAIL) (T1 Reflex) GAME: Paenitia rolls 1d20+5: (13)+5: 18 (Cambion Reflex)
Telamon snarls, wiping glitter off his face. "Now I know how it feels," he grumbles. "Lana! We could use you up here, see if you can dispel some of this darkness!" He draws his hands back, cupping them, and focuses... the air around him suddenly getting hot as a sphere of flame crackles into existence. He roars, "Ganzer lipisbala gaz!" and thrusts his hands forward, the fiery projectile vanishing into the dark, and exploding with a low roar and screams.
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 7 DC: 18 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12 (vs DC14 - Fail) <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "I will reroll!" GAME: Ravenstongue rolls 1d20+7: (5)+7: 12 (vs DC14 - Fail) <OOC> Ravenstongue says, "I'll move to 4,11, please and thank you. :)"
"Coming, love!" Cor'lana calls out. She narrows her eyes at the horizon, and she raises her hand, murmuring an incantation and gathering magic on her hands to unweave one of the spells that is keeping the area ahead plunged into darkness.
But she stumbles on a few syllables--"Shit!" she says, and the unweaving falls apart. The darkness stands, and she rushes forward to try and keep pace with the rest of the group.
<OOC> Silmeria says, "Swift, change purity to Smiting (Now Mori bypasses DR via magic, lawful, and *good*)." <OOC> Silmeria says, "Move to 11,10." <OOC> Silmeria says, "Cast Flames of the Faithful (Now Mori is also a Flaming Burst gun.)" GAME: Silmeria casts Flames of the Faithful. Caster Level: 9 DC: 14
The glitter, an irritant, but a minor one. The screams within the new patch of darkness, more important by far. The sweet little cleric doesn't look very sweet at all, as measured steps carry her to the very edge of the darkness. "I know you're in there," she says, her voice gentle and almost pitying. "I know that you think you can murder us, like you have so many meals before. But I promise you, it was a *deadly* mistake to try and make lunch of us. Come out, and I will be quick about it."
The pistol raises, barrel level with her eyes, and a flicker of light crosses her spectacles, the glowing silver tracings taking on a pulsing, fiery orange, the mouth of the gun's barrel gone aflame with a soft *puff*. "Come now. You have suffered enough."
<OOC> Lysos will try her hand at dispelling the darkness RT tried, mnemonic vestment. And then move to 9,10 GAME: Lysos casts Force Punch. Caster Level: 9 DC: 20 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+9: (19)+9: 28 (vs DC14) <OOC> Jinks says, "You reveal a sexy cambion lady."
The water running under the wall by Lysos is flowing towards the middle of the big room that Silmeria and Rocky are in. It's the lowest point and there's a drain in the middle. Everything flows there to a massive drain, covered by a grate. An *everything* that is mostly water.
No longer invisible, now instead a moving humanoid outline of glitter and shinies, Lysos fights against her initial impulse and moves further into the drainage chamber. Seeing Raven's attempt, Lysos copies it, putting her hand inside one of her dress pockets, then gesturing at the globe of darkness and uttering arcane words. The darkness fades away, revealing the outsider.
<OOC> Rocky says, "blink hard and move towards the evil vibes?" GAME: Rocky rolls will: (13)+3: 16
Rocky finds the glitter more than a minor irritant, blinking hard as he stumbles forward , struggeling to advance without tripping over anything. The sith turns suddenly towards the demon, blade raised, as he blinks away enough to acess the situation again.
Darkness falls, down the hallway. Both hallways, becoming even more impenetrable.
"My Baby!" The attractive, well she would be attractive if she wasn't sneering, cambion screams. Her expression switches from a smug composure to rage as she feels the troll-fiend die, screaming in a fire. Its voice winking out in head.
Her eyes flash, "I'll kill EVERY SINGLE ONE of you. One day when you're least expecting it we'll come out of the sewers and tear you to pieces."
~Switch to run! Darkness and run!~
She is not standing still as she monologues. She is fleeing, past the bars and down the corridor into the waiting darkness.
The troll that was there, already gone.
To the south, there is additional splashing as the other one flees as well.
Her last taunt is thrown just before the cambion vanishes from sight. "One by one, and I'll stick your Mori down your throat too!"
Telamon calls after her, "Don't forget our little dog too?" He looks at the others. "That's how the story goes, right? 'I'll get you, and your little dog too'?" He snorts in contempt as the cambion and her 'babies' flee. "Hmph. Now... I saw something while we were having our little conversation with that... person." He walks over to the wall where the water is flowing out from under, inspecting it carefully.
"But we don't have a dog. ...Do have a Pothy, though," Cor'lana remarks, looking at Pothy briefly. He's okay, it seems, and that means everything else will be okay.
She rejoins the rest of the group, no longer trying to hide a distance behind them where it's nice and safe. "Where /does/ that water go?" she asks quietly.
Rocky chuffs softly and pats at his pouches, searching. "This One will add her to The List."
"It's sweet that you think that," Silmeria replies to the cambion's retreating back, shaking her head. "Well... I do hope they find some place *else* to be. One more report about demons in the sewers, and the city might just pour magma down through and chisel out new ones."
Turning, she blows the flame away from the barrel of her gun, and returns it to its holster. "Secret water flow, is it? Do tell!"
"Well.. that was terrible," Lysos says, having pressed herself up against the wall of the chamber upon revealing the cambion. She'll regret that when she's cleaning the sludgy refuse off of her dress late. It takes her a moment to get her breathing back under control. "Is it over?"
The brickwork of the wall is revealed to be the facade for a bolthole. The passageway is narrow and uneven-- Rocky does not have a great time grinding his way through-- but it eventually opens into another hub for pipes, pathways, and drains.
There's a hunched figure in tattered clothes towards the center. Solid-black, porcine eyes reflecting red for a moment in the light. It splashes through the filth, flinching down and retreating a small set of awkward steps.
It thrusts its head from side to side in violent denial, grunting and choking out words in jotun.
Telamon raises a hand for the others to hold up. Then he slaps on a winning smile. Using tradespeak, he says, "Hello, friend! Are you lost? We're not -- so far, anyways -- but we were looking for a rather unpleasant lady and her underlings. You wouldn't know where they might be, would you?" He's turning on the charm here, despite the creature looking rather... rough.
"You wouldn't happen to be the one who wrote those messages?" Silmeria says from behind Telamon, lifting a black-gloved hand. "If so, then thank you very much. Did you need help with anything?" <jotun>
Rocky chuffs softly. The greyscale isn't having the best of days, but that's no reason to be rude to.... whatever the heck that thing is.
If, however, it attacks... well that's an entirely different situation.
Lysos doesn't recognize the language the creature is speaking, and besides, she's too busy trying to brush, unsuccessfully, the magical glitterdust from her arms. When Silmeria starts speaking the gutteral tongue, she trusts in the others to properly deal with what appears to be a prisoner of the outsiders. She offers a smile, instead, to try and show the creature that they mean no threat.
GAME: Silmeria rolls diplomacy: (18)+18: 36 GAME: Telamon rolls diplomacy+3: (18)+18+3: 39
Cor'lana lets out a tiny, tiny little, "eep," as she realizes her fiance is just turning on the diplomatic charm and speaking to this... entity? Person? Creature?
She purses her lips for a moment, looking down at her hands like she's trying to decide if it's the best opportunity for a pre-emptive charming spell... And she decides to hold off. Surely everything will be just fine...
Right?
The fleshy, pink troll is a pathetic thing; stunted and bent. It lacks the infernal skin, black scales, wings, and horns of the other three. It crawls close to the ground and twitches at war with itself. It wears rags that used to be leather armor, barely keeping the tiniest shred of modesty.
When it looks up to you its pig-eyes blink spasmadically and it snorts over uneven tusks, choking at broken jotun words. Suddenly, it jerks its head to the side and lowers a shoulder to reveal a bulging goiter on its neck.
The goiter has the half-melted face of a human man. "Help me... please," he mumbles between plastic lips that threaten to stick together. It lifts a hand that's somewhere in between human and the two claws and a hooked thumb of a troll. "Re... ward!"
Telamon is struck speechless, his lips moving silently. They simply don't teach you how to react to this sort of thing, and he shudders, though he manages to keep from recoiling. "By the gods," he says quietly. He looks to the others. "I... have no idea where to start with this person. We need to get them to the temples though."
Lysos's smile freezes.. her throat works, but doesn't manage to clear the sudden blockage there. A moment later, she can't bear it anymore, ducking back into the passage. The rather unladylike sounds of someone voiding their stomach echoes down the hall.
"Oh..." There's a *lot* of layers of meaning crammed into that one word, as Silmeria raises a hand to her mouth. "Oh no..."
Carefully easing past the others, she starts to approach the poor, twisted creature, lowering herself into a half-crouch with hands out and turned up, advancing very slowly. No sudden movements, just in case. "If we can help, we very much want to. How can we help, though?"
Rocky chuffs softly. Demons are horrific. This is not news. But actually dealing with suchn abomination is still... unsetteling.
Cor'lana clamps her hands over her mouth and shuts her eyes tightly. Breathe in. Breathe out. One... Two... Three...
She slowly opens an eye. The... creature is still there, and she keeps a hand clamped over her mouth, looking away. One, two, three... In, out, in, out...
And then Lysos upchucks. Cor'lana just shuts her eyes tightly again and waits for the sensation to pass. Telamon can handle this.
But then there's Pothy. He just flies over to Telamon's shoulder and quirks his little pale feather head. "Help!" he says, rather cheerfully, imitating his mistress's voice.
There's a sob of relief that billows out of what's left of the face. It causes the goiter to swell. If you watch it closely you can see the troll's pulse in the slow throbbing. The twisted hand reaches out slowly-- only to clench into a fist.
The creature rolls away, loping slumped over in a very simian fashion. It's of two minds and it's violent. Punching, scratching, and slamming itself into the ground. "N-no... still a m-man. Still M-milksop!" The human-arm arcs up and pokes a porcine eye, drawing a stream of jotun curses.
Siezing the moment, Milksop splashes through the water to a pile of refuse. He pushes it aside and collects a soiled satchel before loping back and dropping it between Telamon and Silmeria. The flap opens to spill out slimey gold and jewls.
He chokes. He shudders. The man and the troll both cry out as the whole shape ripples. He falls prone.
The troll snorts and laughs maliciously.
"Reward," the goiter pleads. "Kill... me."
Telamon stares in horror. When Pothy lands on his shoulder, he looks back at the even-more-pale-than-usual Cor'lana, and reflexively backs up so he can take her hand. "I..." He forces his eyes to turn towards the twisted thing. "There has to be a way to fix this," he says desperately. "To save him!" His dark eyes are like saucers, wide and appalled.
Rocky was thinking it, didn't want to say it. Might be the best help even the Temples can provide. The greyscale steps forward, ready to fill the request, but not acting just yet. An alternative might yet be found.
GAME: Silmeria rolls knowledge/the planes: (16)+11: 27
Lysos tries to collect herself, but she is forced to her knees to suffer through a few more involuntary stomach spasms.. and moments more th do her best at cleaning herself up. And if she dilly dallies a little bit, using the cleaning as an excuse to mentally prepare herself.. well, it is what it is. Eventually she returns to the chamber, however, and though she can't quite bring herself to look at the amalgamated creature again, at least she's there in case there's anything she can do to help.
Silmeria's eyes dart over the twisted, suppurating flesh, her gently sad expression never once wavering. "You were so hungry, weren't you?" She says, just loud enough to be heard by those behind her. "If you truly, truly want to die, then I can do that. If you don't... We can take you to the Temples, Milksop. They can help you, and all you'd be left with is yourself, and those terrible, terrible memories. It'll be hard, after... But I believe you can do it, Milksop. I *truly* believe that you can be yourself, once more. If you want it."
Turning to look over her shoulder, she fixes Telamon with a quiet look. "He can definitely be helped... But he needs to know what his choices are."
Cor'lana takes Telamon's hand as it touches hers, her violet eyes opening back up to look at him. She squeezes it so tightly in her hand.
And somehow she finds the courage within her to... speak.
"I know what it's like to be... shut in, to feel like there's no way out of your prison besides death," Cor'lana says gently. "But there's... There's always a way besides that. I /promise/ there is."
Her lip wobbles a little. "Could you choose life, Milksop? If you want it, knowing that there's a way you can be happy in living?"
Rocky chuffs quietly. "Beside the Great River is peaceful. To lay down ones burden and rest can be welcome. But to live is it's own satisfaction."
GAME: Lysos rolls diplomacy: (1)+12: 13 (EPIC FAIL) (Aid Another - Success-ish?) GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Diplomacy: (19)+15: 34 (Aid Another) GAME: Silmeria rolls diplomacy: (9)+18: 27 (Aid Another) GAME: Telamon rolls diplomacy+3: (13)+18+3: 34
Lysos is definitely not taking the lead on this. She can hardly even bear to look at the poor thing! But she does do her best to put a smile on her face. "These people can help, truly," she says, doing her best to sound encouraging.
The troll's pig-eyes roll back and it snorts, pained but amused as the convulsions continue through it. What's left of Milksop sobs and cups the goiter to cover its face. The swollen mass bulges around the resting fingers. The man is reduced in so many ways, weeping for his 'mommy' even as the troll calls out in exhultation for the mother-creature that once warped it.
The kind words wash over the abomination and it thrashes. You can't be sure if it's the man or beast at this tantrum. It slides through the filth like a worm, dragging itself up onto hands and knees as violently-trembling hands clamp around the snout. The jotun voice is smothered and blunt, half-grown tusks grind.
Milksop tugs the pig head to one side and he falls into Silmeria. "Take... p-please help," he cries. The troll's head thrashes.
Telamon pulls Cor'lana to him, hugging her tightly a moment, trying to block out the spectacle of this warped thing writhing. Then he looks to Silmeria, "You heard him," he says quietly but clearly. "We take him back. And we try to put him back together." His shoulders square, and he swallows hard. "Maybe we'll fail. But ...he deserves the attempt, at least."
And Silmeria's arms wrap tightly around Milksop, as though the quasi-Jotun weren't a slime-caked horror of flesh and misery. "We'll help," the Speaker whispers. "We'll do everything we can." Tipping her head back and to one side, she looks to her companions. "Rocky, Telamon, I'll need help guiding him. He can't nearly walk well at all. Lysos..." She nods to the bag, half-spilled of gold and jewels. "Can you take that for me? If it's part of the stolen effects, it needs to go to the Guild. If not, Milksop is going to need it when his treatment is done."
Cor'lana returns that hug, whispering very quietly into his ear for a moment as she stands on her tip-toes to do so--she won't let a little thing like height keep her from comforting him. Or herself, for that matter.
She looks back at the twisted thing, the nightmarish amalgamation, and she nods fervently at Telamon's words--a silent motion of resolve. And she lets go of Telamon, as they have work to do for the man who's chosen life after all.
Rocky chuffs quietly. "Thrashes and fights. Maybe best tie with rope, carry with care. Less injury to him, less injury to us."
Anything to give Lysos something to do keep from sabotaging the rapport the others seem to have developed with Milksop. She does her best to gather up the spilled wealth back into the bag, then shoulders it, prepared to step back into the passage and lead the way. Getting to be the first out of the tunnels appeals to her more than the fear of running into the demons scares her. Also, she doesn't have to look at Milksop this way.
Telamon steps away from Cor'lana, smiling at her, before starting to gesture. "Emegar maltum," he says quietly, and there's a crackling shimmer of force that flattens out into a disk, wide enough to sit on easily. "Help him onto this, Silmeria. It'll carry him." He gives her a nod and a hopeful smile. "This is why we're here. To bring the light into dark places."
"Not all of us," Silmeria answers, giving Telamon a sad little smile as she helps the poor misshapen man onto the glowing disk. "It wouldn't even be the first time today I'd held someone's hand and been their last friend before they found the Grey Halls. I'm glad he chose life... But I would have considered it a sacred duty to give him a gentle end."
One hand rests on the 'forehead' of Milksop's goiter-face, and the smile becomes much warmer as it looks down at him. "Rest now, Milksop... Go to sleep, if you can. We're taking you to people who can help."
Vardaman clergy are *weird.*
Combatty
Map
https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=myn735i17m0
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
>> 29 NotFrenTrol3 1 <<
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28 NotFrenTrol
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23 Jaenrahne
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21 Ravenstongue 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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20 NotFrenTrol2
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19 Telamon 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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19 Silmeria 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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15 Lysos 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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7 Rocky 3 Flat-footed (0 rnds remaining)
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