Maeve takes up guard at the nearest chokepoint, reflecting on how all of her comrades-in-arms seem to be doing more interesting things than her.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 30):

Back in the Tunnels

Boreas makes his way back through the tunnels, moving quickly for almost 5 minutes before meeting the Keefdragon, who safely 'ported top-side at the last possible moment and is now a boy once more. Reunited, the pair makes its way back toward the end of the tunnel, trying to ignore the metallic footsteps continuing to inexorably advance down the tunnels.

End of the Tunnel

Almost (but not quite) ten minutes after Boreas leaves, Drake gives a triumphant shout and the runes blaze to life on all sides. A shimmering portal appears on the end opposite of the tunnel's starting point, but before anyone can go through, an enormous figure materializes.

The creature is a minotaur, for starters, dressed in black plate from head to foot. It takes Maeve a good six seconds or so to recognize Tuskrot, the arena champion who was recently "dispatched" by Mah'mout in the arena.

"What's the meaning of this?" Reginald demands. "See here, you brute! These runes are meant to take us home. Now step aside and let us pass with all speed."

Tuskrot snorts, rapping the butt of his greataxe against the ground with a hollow thump.

"Message from Darris," the minotaur says. "Bleeding hollow."

Reginald arches an eyebrow, perplexed.

"But they've been so helpful," he objects half-heartedly. "Are you sure?"

When Tuskrot fails to answer, the steward shrugs and turns toward Maeve.

"I'm terribly sorry, m'girl, but I'm afraid we're going to have to kill you. It's nothing personal, I assure you, but business is business."



Stevens points a finger at Maeve and utters words of power.

[Casting: Magic Missile]

Five missiles hurtle toward Maeve, striking her unfailingly.

[Damage (Maeve): 15]

Reginald gives him a withering glance filled with disdain, prompting the mage to hold up his hands defensively.

"It's all I've got left! So sue me... we've been fighting all day."

For his part, Reginald helps himself to the bag of research data Drake had been carrying and inches non-threateningly backward toward the shimmering portal behind Tuskrot, ensuring he is only five feet from the safety it promises.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:10, Wed 30 July 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 31):

The Spire

Brooks, unable to cast, backs into the shadows of the attic and out of line of sight.

Faye charges toward the ladder, but it is so badly charred that it cannot support her weight. She doesn't make it four rungs before she comes crashing down -- taking half the ladder with her.

Edrahil glances up at the ceiling, equal parts perplexed and annoyed.


This message was last edited by the GM at 03:08, Wed 30 July 2014.

Zuriel glances around quickly, looking for some way to get up to the roof. His eyes fall on the bookshelves lining the room. He rushes over to one of them, and begins lugging it into position as a makeshift ladder.

"This should hold if somebody helps keep it stable!" he says.

Lyriel, having magic at her disposal, is under fewer limitations than her companion paladins.

Incanting a few words, a giant black bear appears just over the lip of the roof, visible for a moment before it immediately rears and lunges at wherever Brooks is hiding (missing).

[Summon Monster IV > 1d3 (1) Celestial Giant Bear]

Keef would approve, Lyriel thinks to herself.

Lyriel's faithful spiritual blade continues its grim work, however, taking another chunk out of Brooks.

[Damage: 5]
This message was last edited by the player at 03:37, Wed 30 July 2014.

Maeve gasps, more out of shock than pain, as Tuskrot's armored form appears before her.

"You. . . ." she breathes.  Then her golden eyes narrow in anger.

"Ты дал мне автограф, когда я был ребенком, вы сукин сын!"
[Private to DM: "You gave me your autograph when I was a child, you son of a bitch!"]

Maeve five-foots [square D7] and [whirlwind] trip attacks all those within reach.

[OOC: Gonna confess that I have no idea if I did this turn correctly.  Judging from the grid, it *looks* like I can hit Stevens, Tuskrot, and Jenkins this turn. (Reginald I believe is just far enough away to avoid me.)  If you rule that couldn't hit any of these three, just ignore the damages for them.

Also I forgot to roll cold damage; that's been added now.]

Stevens:
[Touch Attack: 21]
[Trip attempt: 19 vs. opposed: 13] = success
[Attack: 34]
[Damage: 25]

Jenkins:
[Touch attack: 37]
[Trip attempt: 28 vs. opposed: 17] = success
[Attack: 28]
[Damage: 20]

Tuskrot:
[Touch attack: 22]
[Trip attempt: 27 vs. opposed: 18] = success
[Attack: 36]
[Damage: 19]

"GARFUNKEL!" she shouts, not really sure why she's bothering to keep up the facade anymore. "Our new friends are becoming a bit murder-y!"

Maeve has time to reflect that that was a truly awful call to arms and vows to think of something better next time.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:32, Wed 30 July 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 35):

The Spire

Silence reigns from the attic, as per Lyriel's spell. The bear, however, transmits an interesting sense of boredom and loss -- his target is not there.

Lyriel whips over to a window and glances upward just in time to see an injured Brooks flying off over the chasm, far away from the spire... a spectral sword slashing and hacking at him periodically as he goes.

~~ End Combat ~~

In reply to DM (msg # 36):

The Tunnels

Jenkins debates standing up, but sees the threatening-looking Easterner's look and decides against it.

"Stevens has the right of it," he says. "Humble as it is, the spell is effective."

[Casting: Magic Missile]
[Damage (Maeve): 14]

Drake, still standing, puts a hand on Tuskrot's prone form.

"An appropriately named spell for the situation," the mage grins as he casts his spell.

[Casting: Bull's Strength]

The minotaur's already-formidable muscles bulge and ripple, and then the minotaur attempts the stand.

[AOO from Maeve vs (prone) Tuskrot: 26]
[Damage: 19]

The minotaur roars in pain, but regains his footing. Shifting his grip on his greataxe, he advances toward Maeve to get into range... provoking another AOO when he does so.

[AOO TRIP from Maeve vs Tuskrot: 20 vs 18]

The minotaur goes down again without even reaching the space he wanted to be in, because trip is absolute bullshit. Maeve gets to make a free attempt to damage her foe, as well.

[Attacking prone minotaur: 29]
[Damage: 19]

Having successfully damaged himself more on his turn than Maeve did on hers, the minotaur nods to himself at a job well done.



Stevens decides to cast from the floor, since the only spell he claims to have left can't miss anyway.

[Casting: Magic Missile]

Five more bolts of magic hurl themselves at Maeve, splattering her with painful pinpricks that her armor does nothing to mitigate.

[Damage (Maeve): 16]

At that precise moment, Keef arrives in cell D5 on the grid. He has time to take a standard action or move further, but not both.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:40, Wed 30 July 2014.

The spectral blade takes one last chunk out of Brooks before rematerializing to hover next to Lyriel.

[Damage: 9]

She points helplessly out the window at the fleeing, flying mage.

Zuriel narrows his eyes. "I've got it. We can't let him get away." He rushes to the window, nocking an arrow and drawing his bow as he does so. Countless winged shadows mimic his action as he draws and releases, sending an arrow trailing a dazzling arc of white behind it.

[Smite Evil: 19]

[Damage: 19]

The arrow thuds into the cowardly mage's shoulder, and Zuriel watches as the limp form of Brooks careens off into the yawning Abyss surrounding the peninsula. He stares after the mage for several moments before turning back to Lyriel, Faye, and his father.

He nods. "It is done."

The shadowy angelic doppelgaengers nod with him.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:12, Wed 30 July 2014.

In reply to Zuriel Silendril (msg # 39):

The Spire

"It's done," Edrahil agrees, sheathing his weapons and sighing heavily. "The spire is ours... to demolish, I should think. We'll have to bring in some sappers, and then we'll be done with this whole nasty business."

He claps Zuriel on the shoulder.

"How much you've grown... how much you've learned, in such a short time," he says, looking at the angelic shadows for a moment with a sad smile etched across his features. "I'm proud of you, son. You mother would be, too."

The knight-captain puts a hand on Lyriel's shoulder, as well.

"Proud of both of you. This is what it means to be a champion of the light... defeating true evil, even if no one will ever see it or know about it. It's not about serving the pettiness of our own ego. A lesson the Grand Marshall could stand to learn."

"Tower's secure, sir," Lt. Faye says, saluting perfectly. "Shall we rejoin the van?"

"You go on ahead," Edrahil replies, returning the salute to dismiss the officer. "Lead a team to comb every nook and cranny of this place. I don't want to destroy it with its secrets left intact."

"Aye, sir," Faye says, heading down the staircase to carry out his orders. Edrahil watches her go for perhaps a second longer than is entirely appropriate, then turns back to Zuriel and Lyriel.

"Now then," he says, the smile running away from his face. "Why are you here? HOW are you here? Your work is more pressing than mine, if the bard is to be believed. And you are alone -- why? Have your allies fallen?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:27, Wed 30 July 2014.

In reply to DM (msg # 37):

Not demons.... Keef notes as he assesses the situation.  He looks at Maeve, fighting impressively but nevertheless peppered by bolts of angry magical energy.

Fire shall protect mine own!

Keef waves his hands and gestures quickly.  Directly in front of Maeve a roaring wall of flames bursts into existence.  However, the Eastern warrior does not feel heat radiating from it.

The wall, as it appears on top of Stevens and Jenkins, damages the mages severely (18 damage, 16 damage)

It then radiates waves of heat south toward the rest of P.A.R.T.Y.s enemies.  [OOC:  can't tell who is more than 10 feet so I'm not sure who's in d4 damage range and who is in 2d4].

I'll hold them there until you're ready... Keef looks over his shoulder, and Boreas must be on his way.

Zuriel walks over to Lyriel, gently helping her to her feet and worriedly examining her burns. [Private to DM; Lyriel Vesper: Zuriel helps support Lyriel, keeping an arm around her waist, though it is not strictly necessary or proper.]

He flushes with pride at his father's praise, and barely manages to keep from grinning like a buffoon.

Mother...

His smile fades as the discussion turns more serious. "We're here with our friends, attempting to get to the bottom of the OSA. There is much we suspect, but have little evidence. We had hoped to find out for sure what they were up to. When we saw the decisive charge, the mages here abandoned the tower, and I knew we had to help. Our companions are continuing the ruse in the tunnels."

Upon seeing his father's worried expression, he hurries to continue. "Boreas and the others won't hurt the paladins, of course, if they manage to catch up to them. But I didn't have time to explain in front of your whole army. They'll be discreet. If there is value in continuing the ruse, they'll manage it. If not, I have no doubt they'll be returning here to the tower shortly."

He looks around the ruined room. "Until then, father, we have much to discuss. Perhaps there is a smaller chamber where we can talk discreetly. Hopefully one with chairs?"

In reply to Keef (msg # 41):

Tunnels

The searing heat blisters Reginald's skin, shattering what's left of the steward's bravado.

"And best of luck to you all," he says.

Without further ado, he tightens his grip on the bag of research materials and plows through the portal, vanishing.

Maeve is unable to see anything through the licking flames, though she's free to attack at the places she remembers folks being, if she wants.

Lyriel leans gratefully on Zuriel, exhausted from her wounds, the poison, and her massive expenditure of divine energy.

[Sacred Boosted Cure Moderate Wounds (Hold Person): 31]

She absently clears away the last of her wounds, though the poison remains, sapping her strength. She smiles shyly at the Knight-Captain's praise, though distracted by the blade hovering before her. She examines the familiar markings, and the distinct exotic tapering curvature of the blade.

How can it be? I thought it had been lost but, there's no doubt...

Her vision blurs, having nothing to do with the poisonous fumes from earlier.

Eldric... she whispers.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:57, Wed 30 July 2014.

The wall of flame causes sweat to trickle down Maeve's brow and makes it difficult for her to see her foes.  Yet her aim is still true.

Jenkins:
[Miss % (even is good): 4]
[Attack (FPA -3): 31]
[Damage: 26]

Jenkins dispatched, she turns her attention back to Tuskrot.

Tuskrot:
[Miss % (even is good): 18]
[Attack (FPA -3): 31]
[Damage: 25]

"Когда вы дойдете до ада Tuskrot - не то, что вы будете иметь большой путь - сказать им битва теленка послал вас."
[Private to DM: When you get to hell Tuskrot--not that you'll have a long way to travel--tell them the battle calf sent you.]

Then she five-foots away from the wall of flame (D6).
This message was last edited by the player at 15:10, Wed 30 July 2014.

Boreas dashes into the room (C6) and his gem crackles with energy.

[Ready Action: Attack any visible foe who takes aggressive action]

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 46):

The Tunnels

Tuskrot picks himself up, shielded from provoking the angry Gaelian by the wall of blistering flames. They sear his fur, but it's less painful than the guisarme had been.

"Я не понимал, что восток уже в союзе с эльфами."

[Private to Maeve Hassan: "I didn't realize the east had allied with the elves."]

He calls out, shouldering his axe.

"Но не волнуйтесь, военный корову. Мы встретимся снова, чтобы закончить."

[Private to Maeve Hassan: "But don't worry, war cow. We'll meet again to finish this."]

With that, he darts into the portal. Drake follows close behind, even as Stevens succumbs to his burns. In the time it takes the wall of fire to be dismissed or flicker out, the portal has closed -- leaving the P.A.R.T.Y. quite alone.

~~ End Combat ~~

The flapping of leathery wings heralds the arrival of something new, and the imp you've dealt with several times before hurtles into the room haphazardly. He looks quite out of breath, is covered in a greenish sheen (and a magical aura consistent with Dimensional Anchor), and glances over his shoulder nervously.

"Paladins!" he shouts, annoyed. "Paladins and clerics and other filth in the tunnels! Help me evade them, mortals, and I'll make it worth your while."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:26, Wed 30 July 2014.

Maeve watches thoughtfully as her foes dart through the portal.

Until then, Tuskrot.  I look forward to it.

"Bad news.  I think it's safe to say that the jig is up," Maeve says to Boreas and Keef, in an attempt to explain why they found her slicing their charges to death.  "I don't know how our cover was blown, but it would seem that Darris now wants us dead.  Best let Baldwin know immediately, assuming he hasn't already been apprehended."

At that moment the silence of the tunnel is broken by a truly obnoxious voice as the imp pleads for aid.

"Begone imp," Maeve says wearily waving the creature onward down the tunnel.  "I can assure you that the paladins and clerics will be considerably more interested in us than in you.  If you get going now, you should have a decent start.  But: in exchange for this small favor, I will expect you to provide some information for us once the situation has become less delicate.  Do we have an agreement?"

Boreas ignores the imp, extinguishing the bodies of the fallen mages and searching them before the paladins arrive.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 49):

"Begone where, exactly?" the imp berates in Maeve's direction. "Into one of these three sturdy walls?! Or back into the tunnels, where the paladins are coming from?! If you want me to do a favor, you'll need to hide me until they're gone. Can you manage that? I see bags and backpacks aplenty, and I'm pretty small. Let me hide in one without being discovered, and you'll be glad you did. I give my word as a devil."

Boreas, ignoring the imp to loot the bodies, locates the following:


This message was last edited by the GM at 04:23, Thu 31 July 2014.

"Fine!  Here we are then." Maeve finds an empty, nondescript leather satchel and helps stow the imp in it.  If she is perhaps a bit less gentle than she could have been while stuffing the imp in the bag, she feels no guilt over it.  She places the satchel at the edge of the chamber.  "There.  If you stay quiet,  you should be fine." 

Grumbling to herself, Maeve sits against a stalagmite and tries to make herself as comfortable as one with a number of magical welts can possibly be as they wait for the Flame to arrive.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:41, Wed 30 July 2014.

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 51):

The Spire

"I wish we had time," the knight-captain says with a sigh. "But I have an army to command and a spire to demolish. Perhaps this evening, once we set up camp. You are remaining with the army, are you not?"

In reply to Edrahil Silendril (msg # 52):

The Tunnels

Not ten minutes later, about a dozen paladins march into the room. They glance at the carnage impassively, then turn toward Boreas, Maeve, and Keef.

"Who are you, what happened here, and what are your allegiances?"

Zuriel's eyes widen with surprised recognition as he examines the weapon floating by Lyriel more closely.

"That's...Eldric's blade!" he breathes. "No...more like a...spiritual manifestation of it. I don't think they ever...recovered the actual weapon. I..."

He looks up at Lyriel in wonder. "It would appear your brother is still looking out for you..." he says hoarsely, past the lump in his throat.

Zuriel reaches out involuntarily towards the blade, which draws back to hover just out of reach before executing a flourish and dissolving into emerald mist.

Thank you, my friend...

He shakes his head sharply, turning back to regard his father. "I don't...I wish we could but I don't think we can stay for any length of time. We must uncover what we can of the OSAs plans here, and reconnect with our companions. With war on the horizon, I don't think we have much time."

Zuriel looks his father in the eyes, amber gaze meeting icy blue. "It's worse than we feared, Father. Drynn intends to capitalize on Harlindon's obsession with Lo'driel, and strike while the Empire is disorganized and unprepared. That fool is going to jeopardize the safety of the Empire itself for the sake of his silly posturing. That's...part of what we needed to discuss with you. This evening perhaps. We'll need to stay at least that long, I think, to replenish our spells."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 04:31, Thu 31 July 2014.