"Very well.  Disable the arcanist," Garath agrees, nodding to Quinlan.  Swiftly, he begins casting another spell, a slightly longer one this time.

OOC:  Hail of Stone, full-round action.

Let's see what I can do about him then! Quinlan exclaims as he lets loose another arrow, aiming for the mage.

Attack to hit AC 17, Damage 9

*bump*

The arrow hits the wizard with a sickening thud, and his eyes go wide as he falls back, unconscious and bleeding.

More later tonight, hopefully.

The half-drow feels the rush as the battle rages on, the ferocity of his dark ancestry fueling his temper. "Tymora!" he exclaims as the wizard falls.

*bump*

That's one long night... I gotta get off now, but I'll be back on soon.

O_O I think we skipped the cleric's and wizard's turns?  Oh well, they're up again.  Looks like I'm finishing this faster than expected.

The spell the wizard was casting dies on his fingertips as he fall back, and the blinded cleric waves his arms and drops his weapon, calling out.  "I yield, I yield!"

Quinlan rushes forward, draws his two blades and somersaults (tumble, take ten) over the hapless zombies. He doesn^t stop until he^s a step away from the clreic, the tip of his rapier slightly pressed at the clreic^s throat.
Call of your goons first, then we can discuss what reason you might have for letting me spare you!

The zombies take a swipe at Q as he somersaults over, but they miss.  They both begin moving down the hall toward the Gauge and Garath.  As the cleric feels the tip of the sword, he obeys and barks out a command to the zombies in an incomprehensible language, and they back off and retreat to a corner, looking agitated.

The academician lets the spell die at his fingertips; his hands are surrounded for a moment by a light blue nimbus, which quickly fades.  The path to the chamber now clear, he vaults forward, gliding in on outstretched wings.

What is this place then?

Quinlan takes a quick look around, not wanting to let the cleric out of sight for more than an instant.

"It's a..."  The cleric falters.  "Well, a sort of hideout.  Listen, may I help my friend?  Before he dies?"

You may stabilize him and stop the bleeding. For now I prefer to have him unconscious. Quinlan lets the cleric approach the bleeding mage, but keeps the point of his rapier on the neck of the cleric and his dagger ready to puncture the divine casters abdomen.

Blast him and the mage if they try anything funny! Quinlan says at his two companions.

Garath lands a few feet away from the felled wizard.  With a nod to the half-drow, he bares his mephit's teeth at the cleric in a decidedly unfriendly smile.

The cleric hurries over to his companion, and performs some first aid, all the while nervously glancing at the party.  When the bleeding has stopped, and he's stable, he looks up.  "He'll live," he says, half to himself, with a note of relief in his voice.

Alright, start talking, and fast! What is this place and what happened to the children? The half-drow dresses himself up, his demeanor decidedly threatening and making no attempt to hide his dark heritage.

The cleric seems to shrink back away from Quinlan.  "This-this place-there's nothing special.  Us-my brother and I-were...were, trying to bring back our father.  Normal magic couldn't do it, so we needed something special."  He gestures at the strange circle in the center of the room.  "The blood of thirteen innocent children, taken at midnight, a week apart each, used to create the circle you see there."  You can see that there's a small portion incomplete, supposedly where the last child's blood would go.  "That, combined with a powerful incantation, could bring him back, as powerful as he was before.  We-we didn't expect adventurers to come charging down the tunnel."  He looks around at the lot of you, not awed by your power, but rather as one who looks at something not seen in a long time.

"Ah, so?" the mephit hisses.  "And who was your father, that you saw fit to slay..." Garath's voice breaks off and he looks at the heart-wrenching stains in the chamber's center.  When he turns to the cleric again, his tone is noticeable more aggressive. "To slay a dozen innocents, to shatter a dozen worlds to bring him back?!"

The cleric looked slightly abashed.  "He was Galvin the Great, a great defender of Phlan.  We thought that it would be better to take the life of thirteen children, in order that the rest of the city may live."

Knowledge: History or Knowledge: Local: Moonsea check from each of you.

10:01, Today: Garath Darkstar rolled 19 using 1d20+7. Knowledge (history).

21:51, Today: Quinlan Fairfellow rolled 14 using 1d20+2. Knowledge (local).

Q, you know you're supposed to pick a region for your local knowledge?  Like Cormyr or Moonsea.  Oh well, either way...

Garath, you remember hearing about one Galvin the Great once.  He was supposed to be a great protector of Phlan.  However, he disappeared a while back, and hasn't been seen since.

"More likely, he would have strangled you in your cradles if he knew what you would become," the mephit spits out the words with barely-contained fury.  "Galvin was a protector of this city and its people, and this is how you seek to honor his memory?  By preying on the city's children?"

Garath turns around, and sees Gauge watching the proceedings, wand in hand.  "Quinlan, if you could tie these two, under Gauge's and my cover, we can haul them up the well-shaft, deliver them to the guard, then come back here and clean up."

Who told you to kill all these children in order to bring back your father? Did you really come up with that scheme yourselves?
Quinlan continues the questioning.