The party arrives at a door presumably granting access to Master Control. It is shut. There appears to be a keyhole of some sort, in size and shape similar to the cross section of a blade, to the right of the door.

-

Nicolai eyes the door skeptically.  "Hm.  The sword Padin gave our predecessors... does it look like it fits this?"  He gestures to the oddly-shaped keyhole.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:33, Sun 08 May 2016.

Gronk scratches his head. "The black knight's sword is way too big." He'd just put the massive thing into the bag of holding. "But that short sword we found after the rock monster... it might fit."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 03:53, Sun 08 May 2016.

"Seems like it's worth a try then,"  Corros says to Gronk's comment about the short sword.  Tricks, locks, and secrets.  This place is maddening, but at least it's not impossible.  Wishing he had time to recover his spells isn't going to make it happen and standing in the hallway for another hour to make it happen would only expose the five to a world of unknown threats.  Instead of backing away, Corros leans forward and listens with his ear against the door for a moment then withdraws.

"You know," he muses with a shrug, "none of this answers the multiple sets of footprints.  I still don't like that.  At all."

"Trying not to think about that," Nicolai answers tensely.  "This place is broken."

Her rage of a few moments ago having apparently dissipated, Jenna takes up a position close to the door, ready to do battle with either spell or hammer. So far everything that they had encountered in this place had tried to kill them, either sooner or later, so the Priestess anticipated that anything that lay on the other side was unlikely to be friendly.

"Is that in here?" Ulfgar asked, rummaging through the Bag of Holding, trying to find the short sword in question.  His visage was that of a resting bitch as he fumbled about in the virtual space of the bag.  "Need an index or maybe some shelves to better organize all of this," he added.

Gronk steps forward, believing that he's volunteered by way of mentioning the short sword. He takes the blade from Ulfgar, its fuller shimmering electric blue, and gently slides it into the beside the door. There's a brief flash of blue light, and then nothing...

After a pregnant pause, the door unsticks itself and, after a bit of groaning, slides smoothly upward into its bay in the high ceiling above the doorway.

Now revealed is a large, rectangular room, with multiple nooks recessed into the walls along both sides, and a twin roll-down door in the far wall. The floor is littered with small bits of debris, only a few any larger than a finger. These are heaps of some sort of yellowish fabric, resembling very old shed reptile skins, lying along the wings in solitary heaps like islands protruding above the flat, slate sea.

Upon entry, it becomes apparent that the two opposing nooks furthest back are actually doorways, each opening on an ascending stair. These must lead up to the room with the long windows overlooking the shattered plinth in the tunnel outside.

Arbitrarily, the party chooses the right flight, ascending cautiously lest the stair be trapped somehow. The stair switches back once, then emerges into a chamber similar in size and shape to the large foyer below. This room, by appearance, is almost certainly Master Control. There is an open door at the back of the room, revealing a vertical shaft, choked with rubble.

In the middle of the room is a large stone table, littered with scraps of brittle paper and an assortment of loose, variegated crystals. Close to the horizontal windows overlooking the tunnel is a plinth, topped by a perfectly round, melon-sized, cracked, dark crystal ball set at waist height. It looks like a small-scale facsimile of the shattered structure on the floor of the tunnel just outside. Beneath the windows, which appear to be made from thick slabs of glass or translucent crystal, is a slanted shelf, like a shop counter or elongated drawing table, truncated in the middle to create space for the plinth. The surface of this flat face is pierced by dozens of trapezoidal slots, several of which are filled by upright crystals, each of which protrudes, to some degree, above the surface of the panel.

Curious, Gronk gently touches one of the protruding crystals. It sinks smoothly into the slot and, suddenly, the room is filled with about a dozen glimmering, ghostly white figures- humanoids, elf-like, composed entirely of soft-white light, robed and seemingly hard at work. They shuffle silently around the room, studying documents on the massive table-top, placing and adjusting crystals in the panel, passing notes from hand to spectral hand. They seem completely unaware of the Five. In fact, several of the ephemera pass right through the rapt watchers. Then, almost as one, the flickering images stop what they're doing and move towards the tunnel-facing windows, full of anticipation. All don insect-eyed, full face masks. One of the figures steps forward and places his/her hands on either side of the dark crystal sphere, which subsequently begins to glow. Seconds pass, then the captain's limbs grow rigid and he/she throws his/her head back in a silent scream. The others hesitate for a moment, and then turn and begin running soundlessly away from the windows, towards the door at the back of the room or the stairwells on either side. Intense white light enters the chamber through the windows and the orb operator, still screaming silently, seems to explode. Abruptly, the room descends back into lantern-lit dimness. As quickly as they appeared, the ghostly figures are gone; no sign of the spectral host remains.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:49, Wed 11 May 2016.

Nicolai bites down on his unease once more, focusing on details and minutiae to avoid contemplating the entire situation.  "That did not go as they expected, I think."  He scrabbles for a frame of understanding, comes up with alchemy as the closest equivalent he can parse.  "Was it an experiment or did they get complacent with a dangerous process they thought they'd mastered?"

He leans over the stone table and peers at the paper scraps.  "Corros, can you make any sense of these?"

"DEMONS!" Ulfgar proclaimed at seeing the images.  He calmed down after it became clear that they could cause no harm.  After the images were complete, he thought about them for a moment, but soon realized that he could make neither heads nor tails of what they meant.

"Seems like a stupid place to protect," Frostbeard said after a moment.  "No gold, no silver.  Not even strong ale is stored here.  Maybe that collector will pay for such crystals, maybe not," he said with a shrug.

"Gronk! Be caref..." Jenna's warning cry died away in her throat as the half orc touched the crystal, setting in motion the bizarre tableau that began to unfold before their eyes. The Priestess immediately hefted her warhammer, fully expecting the apparitions to attack them, as everything else that they had encountered in this strange place had done. Instead they simply seemed to ignore the Five however, one of them passing right through her, causing her skin to tingle in a way that was not unpleasant.

And then they were gone in a flash of light that left Jenna blinking to try and clear the spots that had appeared in front of her eyes. "I suggest we pause before we touch anything else." The blonde haired young woman said quietly, a serious tone in her voice as she walked across the floor, coming to a halt in the spot that had been occupied by the figure that had appeared to explode. "I agree Nicolai, it did not go as they expected. The question then becomes what exactly were they expecting?"

Corros approaches the table top with caution tinged curiosity.  The idea that moments could be echoed, copied and stored in a crystal almost distracts him from what they are really trying to do here.  "Maybe I can figure something out," he tells the others.  With one of his thin, long lock picks he gently probes at the remains left on the table, looking at everything before he touches it and fully expecting all of it to crumble to dust.

"It seems like maybe they were trying to channel some sort of power.  The leader here, the one with the crystal ball, were they trying to control whatever was in the tunnel with this ball, or channel the power into their leader?  Maybe different crystals lead to different commands?  Different arrangements?"  It is all just guesses.  "Let's not touch anything else for a few minutes, yeah? Till we get this a little more sorted out."

Gronk holds his hands up in mock surrender, his normally greyish cheeks flushing pomegranate red. "Sorry guys, I, eh, didn't mean to do that."

He steps carefully away from the panel and moves to the back of the room, giving the large stone table and its bevy of loose crystals a wide berth. He'll pull guard duty near the stairwells and let the educated folks work out what this weird place is/was.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 00:10, Fri 13 May 2016.

Corros studies the papers strewn about atop the massive stone table. They're very old and very brittle, some of them starting to crumble at the slightest touch.

The young warlock is immediately sucked in. Numerous fragmentary references, written in several different hands, apparently across a considerable span of time, are laid out in front of him. It's essentially a puzzle, intriguing and utterly befuddling. As he pours over the pages, certain patterns begin to emerge. He picks out several mentions of The Planes among a sea of numbers and figures- calculations too advanced to make much sense of. There are also numerous references to something called The Weapon- theoretical treatises on how to create it, unleash it, control it. Exactly what this 'Weapon' is, however, is unclear. Most of the various processes described are beyond Corros' current level of comprehension. Someone with more experience in the arcane arts and sciences might be able to make more sense out of the documents.

Likewise, the crystals- Gronk has already demonstrated that they have power to make things happen; precisely what or how is not clear. Corros studies the materials for what seems like hours but, when he finally forces himself to look away from the papers, his companions haven't moved much from where they were standing when he began his investigation. In fact, everyone in the chamber is experiencing a somewhat distorted sense of time. There are physical manifestations of this phenomenon as well- all of the men notice that their beards are coming in noticeably faster than normal. It's very odd and fairly unnerving. So to is the deepening understanding that something truly terrible happened here, perhaps even the awful genesis of the event which levelled the city above the explorers' heads.

Would the wealthy, reclusive collector, Lovad Padin appreciate any of this jumble of esoteric academia? He expressed interest in the lives and fate of The Forgotten Ones (a title he claimed to have coined), so it's likely that he would. What of the crystals? They are presently coated in dust, but with some cleaning they'd probably be quite lovely. And, they serve some purpose here, more than simply decorative. How one might safely transport any of these items out of the underground complex and back to Balefyre is another difficult question that will need answering soon.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:21, Fri 13 May 2016.

"They say it's a weapon," Corros says as his eyes come back to his present reality.  "Although who, what, or why they were fighting, or how they expected it to work is beyond me.  Maybe someone else could understand it, but not me."  He swallows, rubbing his cheeks, surprised by the unusual friction he feels there, shaving not something he has to do more than once a week or so.  Maybe the time slip isn't quite so figurative as he thought.

"I think we need to go and we should take some of this with us.  Maybe not to Padin, but somewhere we can study it a little closer.  I'm going to try a couple cantrips, mend some of these documents, then maybe try to pick one of these crystals on the table up.  I think maybe you guys should back out of here first, in case it goes boom.  Or maybe I go explody."



Corros
Cast Mending on some of the documents, Mage Hand to pick up the crystal

Jenna has walked over to where Corros is standing, peers over his shoulder at the various scraps of paper, which might as well be written in orcish for all the sense they make to her. The word 'weapon' is a source of concern to the Priestess though. "We don't know how powerful it is either." she says quietly. "I think we need to seriously consider the wisdom of handing any of this over to anyone." The slim blonde glances at the Warlock's cheek, the stubble that adorns it clearly visible. "Something isn't right here."

"Be careful" Her right hand rests on Corros' forearm for a moment before she withdraws, retracing her steps and walking back towards the stairs that they had used to enter this place.

"Agreed.  There's too much ancient destruction floating around this area and precious few people in Balefyre who I'd trust with a butter knife."  Nicolai frowns.  "A weapon.  A weapon.  Hm.  Might they have been trying to bind or summon the Sleeper?  This whole complex is a ring.  Are we standing at the invoker's position in a giant summoning circle?"

Gronk listens as his learned companions discuss their surroundings and the team's likely next steps. He wants to get the hells out of the obviously accursed Master Control, but he can see that his companions are in rough shape. Truth be told, he's not feeling too good himself.

-

Corros cleverly mends several of the more brittle documents with his magic and then carefully places them, along with several of the crystals, in his scroll case and pouches (?). To his great relief,  neither he nor the room explodes. The others look on, each experiencing a strange but powerful pang of envy. Why should Corros be the one to hold on to all of that obviously powerful knowledge? He clearly means to cut the others out and keep the spoils all to himself.

With black thoughts crowding into their minds, the Five descend the staircase to the large foyer. The sense of temporal dislocation is fainter here, as is the pervading taint of darkness. The wave of jealousy that came on so powerfully in the chamber above slowly recedes back into the depths of the subconscious. Exhausted by the physical and psychological toll of the last hour or so, the party rests for an hour or two, regaining a bit of health and vitality (consider all features restored by a short rest fully recharged; you may also spend hit dice to recover hit points if you wish to).

Today: Raellus, on behalf of Gronk, rolled 12 using 1d10+3 ((9)).

Feeling a little fresher, the party leaves the foyer and reenters the main shaft. Looking back to where they defeated what they suspect was Lovad Padin's originally expeditionary force, they notice that the bodies of the nothic and its two arachnoid minions are gone.

The Five push on into the unexplored half of the massive tunnel. Sure enough, it continues its gentle curve to the left, almost certainly confirming suspicions that the entire structure is laid out in a huge circle. About a quarter of an hour after leaving Master Control, the Five note a large fissure in the outer wall of the tunnel. It's taller than it is wide, but it looks like all five adventurers could fit inside quite comfortably. Hoping that the opening might serve as shelter for a longer, more restorative rest, the adventurers cautiously approach. At about thirty paces, Nic detects danger lurking in the inky darkness within the crevasse. He smells it rather than sees it- a sickening stench of decay and corruption. His warning comes just in time.

The creature lumbers forward, its attack lacking craft or subtlety. Three stout legs propel a bulky body, the color of sunburnt flesh, dominated by a huge, gaping mouth front and center. Three waving limbs stalks protrude from its back, two grasping tentacle-like appendages and one terminating in three glistening black orbs that are probably eyes. The monster makes directly for the party's point person (presumably Nic).


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:16, Sun 15 May 2016.

Jenna had been confused when she had watched Corros retrieve the scraps of paper and some of the crystals. The half elf was her friend. So why was he taking all of this knowledge for himself? What did he mean to do with it? No one could be trusted, none of them, not Padin, not her companions, but Corros? Corros? Jenna felt as though she was being betrayed, and by her friend. Why would he do that?

She had not said anything, had simply watched, in silence, her blue eyes boring into him until the task was complete and they made their way back out of the chamber. As they descended the stairs some of the resentment that had spontaneously manifested itself began to fade, but the Priestess still shot a few sideways glances at Corros as they took some time to rest before continuing.

Jenna is alert as they move on down the tunnel, for so far this place had made various efforts to kill them all, so she did not expect their exit to be any different from their entrance in that regard. Her caution is rewarded when Nicola calls a warning as some...thing...emerges from its hiding place, her nostrils immediately wrinkling as its foul odour assails them.

The blonde haired Priestess raises her right hand, takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as her eyes turn from blue to white and she summons forth a bolt of Divine radiance to fire towards the monster.

Jenna
AC: 17, HP29/38
Launching Guiding Bolt at thing (Level 2)

16:17, Today: Jenna Drax rolled 4 using 1d8+1.  HD for HP.
16:17, Today: Jenna Drax rolled 9 using 1d8+1.  HD for HP.

Taking the newly mended scrolls and crystals had felt right, like Corros somehow deserved these little tokens of power.  That maybe someone, or something, besides the Library could see his worth, recognized it, and set him above his companions.  And that felt...strange, ill fitting like a scavenged piece of clothing that would never really be his. The others had been giving him unusual looks, glares he'd last seen on the streets when the other children had recognized that he'd gotten some food that they hadn't or won some particular favor of advantage in their rough existence.  That had been shocking and made him wary of touching their minds, unsure of the thoughts he'd find there.

Walking away from Master Control had lessened both the feelings of his own righteousness and the unease he was picking up from the others, but it seemed like some sort of wedge had been put upon them, one that he hoped would fade quickly and prove to not be permanent.  It hurt a little when Jenna kept giving him what she must have thought were hidden glances.  And not her usual hidden glances.

Having a monster crash out of the darkness is almost a relief, something real to fight against that isn't the unease that seems to live in this place.  The random appearance of the thing, creates its own sense of wrongness and Corros once again calls on the Library to deal with his enemies, twisting his fingers into intricate patters as he moves to his position in their battle lines.

Corros
29/35 HP, AC 13
Casting Eldritch Bolt x2, +7 to attack, 1D10+4 damage each successful hit
1 HD expended for HP (result:3)

Little punk, Frostbeard thought to himself about Corros, who now had the most valuable treasure they had found.  Ulfgar was already thinking out easy it would be to transform into something stealthy and take the crystals and papers once they were back out in Baylefire.  He'd bide his time until --

What the fuck?

Another monster.  Of course.  Whatever the Weapon was, it was a monster magnet.  Well, it had to be dealt with.  Eventually, so would Corros...

Ulfgar Frostbeard
Stopping as soon as he sees the creature, color Green.
Casting Faerie Fire centered on the creature.  DC 15 DEX Save to resist, otherwise, advantage to all attacks made against the creature.
As a bonus action, casting Shillelagh
AC: 15, HP: 27/54

Nicolai keeps watch outside the Control Master chamber but one ear is tightly attuned to Corros' arcane manipulations.  He catches himself flexing his wrist to feel the hilt of his sleeve-knife and forces himself to stop; it's a tell he shouldn't have, and one his companions may have learned by now.  But it's clear Corros has his own agenda for the recovered information, one which doesn't involve sharing the expedition's spoils with the rest of the group.

(OOC: Spending 2 ranger hit dice and 2 rogue hit dice for refresh.)

Nicolai keeps his face impassive but his mind is picking away at the possibilities for ambushes.  Even as he leads off around the ring, he's thinking about ways to separate Corros from Ulfgar and Gronk.  The witchling and Jenna are inseparable, of course, so he'll have to deal with the priestess too...

Perhaps it's the Ardani's murderous thoughts that cue him to the ambush awaiting him within the crevasse, or maybe it's a lifetime of avoiding more ably-set traps than this.  Regardless, he's in motion before his conscious mind catches up with the threat lumbering toward him, rapier and shield coming up to interpose themselves.  "Thing!" he calls out, backing to give himself some maneuvering room.  It's not his most articulate warning but the seemingly-random assemblage of flesh defies more precise description.  It's still flesh, though, so presumably it can bleed...

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 35/38; Superiority Dice 4/4
Move: Into melee with the thing
Bonus (optional): If no advantage gained from spells, Feinting Attack maneuver (-1 superiority die)
Attack: +1 rapier (attack +7 w/ advantage; damage 1d8+2d6+4 [+1d8 if Feinting Attack used])

Gronk moves up to stand beside Nic. When the Ardani strikes, Gronk is right there with him, launching a vicious attack of his own.

Gronk
AC 16; HP 52/56
4/4 superiority dice/combat maneuvers remaining
Attacking Monster as soon as it is in Range

-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:21, Tue 17 May 2016.

As the grotesque creature lumbers towards its prey, the party magic-users batter it with spell attacks.

Jenna's Guiding Bolt staggers it, highlighting the monster with Arma's scorching radiance (O1 -24HP). Corros' pair of Eldritch blasts slow it further (O1 -23HP), allowing Ulfgar to illuminate the aberration with green Faerie Fire before it reaches Nic.

Nic can't miss. The tip of his rapier disappears into the monster's gaping maw, piercing its tongue and the palette underneath (O1 -18HP). The creature's jaws clamp down on Nic's extended arm, releasing its toothy grip only when the spiked head of Gronk's morning star impacts with a meaty thud against its side (O1 -13HP). Nic quickly withdraws both arm and rapier from the monster's unclenched jaws; the rotting carrion stench emanating from the wound suggests that it's worse than it appears (Nic -12HP; Nic is diseased!).

The monster isn't finished, lashing out at Gronk and Jenna with its two tentacle-like appendages. Gronk parleys the creature's miss into more offense of his own, smashing the offending tentacle aside (O1 -21HP) with Spike. The foul beast's second tentacle harmlessly bounces off of Jenna's armor.

The mouthy, three-legged, three-armed monster is badly wounded, but there's still some fight in it left.


Your Turn.

-

Ulfgar stands back, away from melee, concentrating on the maintaining the Faerie Fire spell.  The green hue was useful in aiding his allies attacks against the tentacled creature.

Ulfgar Frostbeard
Staying behind the front rankers
Keeping concentration for FF on the creature.

Corros watches as his two mystical bolts slam home into the nasty creature, glad that they inflicted damage it.  When the beast clamps down on Nic's arm, instant alarm and concern crashes into the warlock's mind that is only confirmed when the rogue withdraws his freed arm and reveals the two nasty punctures on either side oozing blood and ichor.  When the creature's other attacks fail to find purchase, Corros breathes a sigh of relief that is replaced with new emotions, grim satisfaction that Nic has proven that he is less than Corros, and concern that the others are still strong enough to menace him and his prize.

"Where..." he mumbles aloud in a confusion of his mind's devising, seeking some source of these thoughts.  But then the creature still continues to glow and if it doesn't die soon, it might turn it's attention to him before he can make use of his spoils.  He draws forward more magic to make sure that doesn't happen.


Corros
29/35 HP, AC 13
Casting Eldritch Bolt x2 again at the creature

"Get away from me!" Jenna hisses the words as the thing's tentacles flay impotently at her shield, venom dripping from her lips. Normally she would have tried to place herself between Corros and the impending threat, but this time she leaves the half elf Warlock to look after himself. After all, he has all of that new found knowledge does he not? A twisted thought courses through Jenna's mind, to step away, to see if what he has learned will help defend him against the creature.

Her lips curl into a smirk... it was tempting...so very, very tempting...but another thought pushes it aside, the desire to see this thing join the trail of death they are leaving in their wake as they move through this strange place. Letting out a wild cry Jenna lunges forward, Arma's Blessing raised high above her head, her right arm bringing the hammer down with all the force that she can muster, the blow aimed at what she takes to be the thing's eyes.

Jenna
AC: 17, HP29/38
Attacking thing with warhammer (1d8+1)
Using War Priest for bonus attack

Nic hisses inarticulately as he snatches his arm out of the creature's maw.  His sword-hand is throbbing as if it's already beset with a bone-deep infection.  He slings the shield off his right arm, letting it clatter against the wall, and transfers the blade to his weaker - but, for the moment, intact - right hand before whirling back at the monster.

Nicolai
Diseased
AC 17 15; HP 23/38; Superiority Dice 4/4
Attack: +1 rapier (attack +7 w/ advantage; damage 1d8+2d6+4)
Optional: if attacked and missed, spend 1 superiority die for riposte (additional rapier attack, +1d8 to damage)
This message was last edited by the player at 23:55, Tue 17 May 2016.

Corros puts the foul monster down with a second pair of Eldritch Blasts, but that doesn't stop Jenna, Nic, and Gronk from making sure that it stays down, alternatingly bashing and stabbing the felled creature until the matter is beyond all doubt (Otyugh is dead!).

An almost overpowering stench erupts from its battered carcass, still faintly glowing green from the lingering effects of the Faerie Fire. The smell escaping from the creature's wallow in the deep darkness of the crevice is even more nauseating. Perhaps there is an item of value buried in some fetid corner of the  den, although retrieving any such treasure without vomiting, or assuming the reek of the monster's leavings on one's person, will be almost impossible. It's that disgusting.

Nic isn't feeling very well, his injury more than a simple flesh wound. The creature's saliva must behave like some kind of slow-acting poison, and it's already in his blood.


The jealousy and antipathy the others felt towards Corros earlier has diminished significantly, leaving but a tinge of suspicion and resentment lingering on the trailing edges of consciousness.


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 02:40, Wed 18 May 2016.

Jenna turned away from the thing that now lay before them on the ground, but the Priestess was too late to avoid the stench that assails her nostrils, raw, putrid. Foul. A split second later she felt the sudden rush of bile rising from the pit of her stomach. Instinct takes over, the slim blonde bending at the waist, just in time, for a split second later vomit spewed from her mouth and splattered over the floor of the tunnel, narrowly missing her boots.

"I'm sorry" she muttered to the others as she straightened up, moved further away from the carcass. Reaching for her waterskin she took a deep drink to try and wash away the taste, looking around at the others, at Nicolai, Gronk, Ulfgar. And Corros. Corros. Memories of the last hour or so come rushing back, culminating in the thoughts that she had had as they were attacked. She would always place herself between the Warlock and any danger, protect him with her armour, her faith. Her body. She had broken her arm defending him on the way back from Yonder's Hole.

But this time she had left him to protect himself. Had thought that he would betray them, take the knowledge for himself. Why would she think that about her friend? Jenna shook her head, looked away from Corros, partly embarrassed, hoped that he had not seen her looking at him as she walked up to Nicolai.

"You're hurt." The Priestess said. "Let me look at that." It was a command not a request, as closed her eyes, as her lips moving in a silent prayer to Arma as her hands closed around his arm, a warm tingle coursing over the rogue's skin.

Jenna
Casting Lesser Resoration on Nicolai

Corros grins with self satisfaction when his magical attack fells the disgusting beast.  He only wishes the stink would have faded with its life.  The vomit that Jenna adds to the mix doesn't really help, but given the foulness coming from the creatures lair, it doesn't really hurt either and he gives her what he hopes is an encouraging smile.  It seems like the anger and suspicion that was coursing through his mind is fading with the rush of combat.

"Something that gross has to be protecting something of value, yeah?" he asks moving forward cautiously.  He touches Jenna's mind briefly, almost a caress of concern and support, withdrawing before he can draw a complete picture of her thoughts, picking up only the briefest impression of her promise of protection.

The stench ahead stops him cold with a wretch, saliva rushing to his mouth to flush the taste of rot and filth away.  Corros spits and wishes he hadn't opened his mouth at all.  "A little light," he chokes at Ulfgar. "I can search from here with a spell. With a grimace, Corros call forth a translucent hand and starts to push through the muck.

Ulfgar pulled out a wineskin full of pirate whisky.  He took a long draw from it, replacing the stopper and stowing back in his bag when finished.  "Ok, let's get this over with," he said as the warm liquor hit his empty stomach.  He took a couple of deep breaths and readied himself for Corros to bring out the look with his mage hand.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Thu 19 May 2016.

"Moritasgus' balls," Nicolai swears quietly but fervently at the stench.  "That's..."  He flails at the air as words fail him, then quietly slumps against the wall.

As Jenna's shadow falls over him, he flinches away, then relaxes and looks up.  "Ah.  Yes.  Not feeling so good."  He glances at his arm, which is already beginning to swell and darken.  "What I get for fencing with a festering pit."

As Jenna's magic suffuses his damaged limb, he lets out a hiss of relief.  "That's much less bad."  With his undamaged arm, he fumbles in his pack and comes up with a small silver flask.  "Here.  This will help get the taste out of your mouth.  And guarantee you can't smell much of anything for a few minutes."

OOC: Nic will assist with assessing any loot once it's separated from the filth (perhaps with Prestidigitation if Corros has that?).  Lesser Resto should get him out from the poisoned condition, so he'll be as functional as he ever is once he's caught his breath.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:10, Fri 20 May 2016.

With Ulfgar providing illumination, and Gronk, Jenna, and Nic keeping watch behind them, Corros reaches into the crevice with a large, incorporeal hand. He sorts through the offal, more by sight than by feel, until the light from Ulfgar's lantern glints off of something shiny. He plucks the object out between magical thumb and forefinger and extracts it from the mess. A little water rinses the worst of the offending scum clinging what turns out to be a simple ring crafted of a jet black metal or stone. It's hard to hold on to with bare hands, hard to see, even, suggesting some sort of enchantment.

Added to BoH: 1 Jet-black ring

Storing the ring with the Five's other tunnel loot, the party leaves the otyugh's foul lair and continues roughly west, passing another quiescent myconid colony along the way. The nothic spoke true- as long as they give the intelligent spores a wide berth, the mushroom people show no aggression.

The tunnel has grown colder, not by much, but enough to be noticeable. The Five approach another chamber entrance in the outer wall of the tunnel. By dead reckoning, this chamber is located in the same spot as the nothic's haunt was encountered on the direct opposite side of the loop. Apparently, the builders of this massive tunnel valued symmetry.

As they draw nearer to the chamber, the adventurers pick out many low but animated voices speaking, presumably to one another, coming from its darkened interior. The Five could probably pass by the chamber in the shadows on the far side of the tunnel (if they're willing to extinguish the lantern flame), or they could continue to approach and investigate.


Your Turn.

-

Nicolai, in the lead again, freezes at the sound of murmuring and holds up a hand in warning.  Voices ahead, he thinks at Corros.  I can try to get closer but I'll need to be able to see without the lantern.  Can you relay to Ulfgar that I need him to enchant my eyes again?

Upon receiving the druid's magical aid, he creeps forward toward the chamber's entrance, pausing after each step to scan for any traps or obstacles that might betray his presence.  His sword remains sheathed but one hand is on its hilt, ready to lash out at any sign of attack.

OOC: If attacked and missed, will spend a superiority die for a riposte.

Ulfgar casts a spell and touches Nic.  The Human's eyes suddenly see through the darkness.

Casting Darkvision on Nic
-1 2nd Level Slot

Gifted with night vision by Ulfgar's druid spell, Nic cautiously approaches the entrance to the chamber. What he sees inside defies rational explanation.

An amorphous mass, like a tall scoop of naked muscle, pierced along its height by dozens of... mouths, opening and closing, chittering away in at least a score of different languages, occupies the center of the chamber floor. The monstrosity is producing a gibberish beyond comprehension, a muttering collective of insanity. It's got nearly twice as many eyes as mouths, but they don't appear to have spotted the interloper.


Your Turn.

-

Nicolai draws back from the chamber's entrance in horror.  He spends a few seconds scrabbling for words, then gives up.  Instead, he draws a shaky breath, focuses on Corros, and projects an image of the... thing... at the witchling.

No, he manages to send once he's shared the image.  Just... no.  Not unless you brought a fucking lot of fire.

I don't even...okay we'll sneak past this...thing.  Keep watch, Corros sends back to Nic.  Horror is the only word or emotion that the half-elf can bring to mind.  The tiny bolts of fire he can conjur aren't going to be able to strike this thing from existence, not in the scale of bonfire Nic is suggesting.

Trying suppress a shudder, he turns to the others, drawing them close and reaching out to their minds in turn, building and showing a plan to try and get past the creature.  Ulfgar, Gronk, Corros, Jenna, moving slowly one at a time.  That's the plan.  Then Nic can make his way back to the group.  If everything works.  If.

By keeping to the side of the tunnel opposite the chamber entrance, and continuing to eschew use of the lantern, the Five manage to pass the hideous, mouthy abomination described by Nic.

After that, the rest of the journey is relatively straightforward and uneventful. On a couple of occasions, the party encounters rust monsters, but the giant, metal-eating insects, apparently aware that the numbers are not in their favor, stay out of the bipedal intruders' way.

The Five arrive at the mirror image of the chamber where they were ambushed by the mimic; it has collapsed, leaving a large, partially rubble-filled cavity gaping in the outer wall of the tunnel. They move on.

A faint white glow appears up ahead, just around the gentle curve of the tunnel wall. It soon reveals its source- the jagged gash in the roof of the underground complex, through which the party gained entrance. Objectively, that was about 9 or 10 hours ago, but it seems to the adventurers like many days have passed since they last saw and felt the sunlight.

They return to the spot from which they began their subterranean trek and find a single set of five tracks leading away south into the depths of the tunnel, one pair featuring a deliberately notched heel. The strange circle is complete.

The Five ascends the rubble stair into the cold light of day to find the overworld dusted with a thin layer of fresh snow. The hike out of the shallow crater bowl and into the ruined city. They return the way they came, threading their way through mountains of debris. There are signs that the Five are being watched- a fleeting glimpse of movement, a sudden rock fall, inhuman tracks in the snow. The Five arrive at the edge of the city- they can see the snow blanketed steppe through the fallen towers up ahead. So close...

Corros hears the watchers- their "voices" inside his head- before he sees them.

They return.
They must be strong.
They look weak.
We are hungry.
They are few.
We are thrice as many.
Not thrice.
Close enough.
Let us feast.
Some of us will die.
More soft flesh for the rest of us, then.
We must eat.
We will eat.
Attack.
Attack.
Attack.

Thirteen human-sized, six-limbed insectoids, several armed with wicked-look double-head polearms, slowly materialize in a rough circle around the Five, their exoskeletons grey-dappled white now. Slowly, they close the noose on the weary adventurers.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:07, Mon 23 May 2016.

”Bydded i'r rhai sy'n byw yn ôl gwenwyn, farw trwy gwenwyn!” Ulfgar cried out as he summoned powerful druidic magic to defend the group.  Suddenly snakes appeared!

”Attack these the insects!  Kill them all!” Ulfgar said.  And as the words echoed but once, he transformed into a Direwolf, turned from the semi circle, and fled at top speed!  Barks of encouragement spilled from his muzzle as he fled what was certain to be an ugly melee.

Ulfgar Frostbeard
AC: 15, HP: 27
Action: Cast Conjure Animals (Giant Poisonous Snakes) centered on the maximum number of bugs.  Command the summons to attack the insects.
Bonus Action: Turn into a Dire Wolf (AC: 14, HP: 37, Move 50’)
Move Action: Run 50’ away from the insects.  (Keeping the concentration spell up)
(Purposefully trying to generate opportunity attacks if the Insects decided to pursue Ulfgar.  The snakes move 30 ft have a 10 ft reach, so that could be quite painful depending on final spacing)

1) Giant Poisonous Snake, AC: 14, HP: 11, Bite: +6, 1d4+4, Reach 10 ft, Target must make a DC 11 CON save taking 3d6 on a failed save or 1/2 on a successful one.
2) Giant Poisonous Snake, AC: 14, HP: 11, Bite: +6, 1d4+4, Reach 10 ft, Target must make a DC 11 CON save taking 3d6 on a failed save or 1/2 on a successful one.
3) Giant Poisonous Snake, AC: 14, HP: 11, Bite: +6, 1d4+4, Reach 10 ft, Target must make a DC 11 CON save taking 3d6 on a failed save or 1/2 on a successful one.
4) Giant Poisonous Snake, AC: 14, HP: 11, Bite: +6, 1d4+4, Reach 10 ft, Target must make a DC 11 CON save taking 3d6 on a failed save or 1/2 on a successful one.
5) Giant Poisonous Snake, AC: 14, HP: 11, Bite: +6, 1d4+4, Reach 10 ft, Target must make a DC 11 CON save taking 3d6 on a failed save or 1/2 on a successful one.
6) Giant Poisonous Snake, AC: 14, HP: 11, Bite: +6, 1d4+4, Reach 10 ft, Target must make a DC 11 CON save taking 3d6 on a failed save or 1/2 on a successful one.
7) Giant Poisonous Snake, AC: 14, HP: 11, Bite: +6, 1d4+4, Reach 10 ft, Target must make a DC 11 CON save taking 3d6 on a failed save or 1/2 on a successful one.
8) Giant Poisonous Snake, AC: 14, HP: 11, Bite: +6, 1d4+4, Reach 10 ft, Target must make a DC 11 CON save taking 3d6 on a failed save or 1/2 on a successful one.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:17, Mon 23 May 2016.

Jenna simply looks at the creatures as they materialise around the group and begin to slowly advance. As they come closer she begins to circle around, her hammer held in her right hand, her shield strapped to her left. "So, you think you will slay us?" Her voice is low, her tone taunting. Almost mocking. A random snowflake lands on her cheek, its touch chill. Perhaps it was her destiny to die this day. Perhaps not. But other things had already tried to kill her. And failed.

"You should flee now, whilst you can, and pray to whatever God you believe in that we are merciful. For others have tried. They have all died. Every last one of them. So who amongst you wants to be first to try? Who wants to be first to die? You?" The slim Priestess doesn't even know if they can understand her but it is cathartic as she raises Arma's Blessing, points it at one of them. She's vaguely aware of Ulfgar shape shifting, of the slithering of serpents around her as the dwarf wolf sprinted from the circle. "You?" The hammer shifts to point at another of the creatures.

She didn't blame Ulfgar for running, perhaps she would have done too if she could. But her faith holds true. Jenna blinks, her eyes shifting from blue straight to black, no white this time. "You? We will destroy you all. Every last one of you. And when we are done we will rip your carcasses apart and mount your heads on spikes for all to see. So who is first? Who will be the first to die?"

The hammer points towards another. "You." It was not a question these time, but a statement. Jenna takes a deep breath, launches a bolt of radiant energy at the creature she is pointing at.

Jenna
AC: 17, HP29/38
Trying to sound like one badass bitch
Launching Guiding Bolt at random creature (Level 2)

Nicolai sighs wearily.  He'd like to say something snide but Jenna has already claimed pre-battle monologue duty for this round.  Instead, he exploits the momentary distractions she and Ulfgar have created by simply drawing his rapier, pivoting, and driving the blade toward the nearest creature's eyes.

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 23/38; Superiority Dice 3/4
Move: Into melee with enemy #3
Bonus: Feinting Attack (-1 superiority die) on enemy #3
Attack: +1 rapier (attack +7 w/ advantage; damage 2d8+2d6+4)
Contingency: If attacked and missed, will expend a superiority die for Riposte
This message was last edited by the player at 22:03, Mon 23 May 2016.

Corros spins slowly in place as the creatures surround their little group.  Part of him is processing their once again betrayal at those they thought dealt with.  Another part is dealing with the movement of his companions around him.  The final sliver of his mind is making a note to look a little more at the followers of Arma, because Jenna just jumped off the dock and went headlong into the sea of bad ass.  And truth be told, the whole black eyes thing makes him a bit nervous.  Not deal breaker nervous but,-

Hey stupid, bad guys. Right.

I think you will find that we are not an easy meal. Corros sends, then begins drawing power around him.

The snakes are headed out.  The direwolf/dwarf has a plan.  Jenna is about to smite her enemies and Nic is getting stabby with the pointy end of a sharp sword.  Corros does what Corros does.  He drops Shatter on the group opposite Jenna to soften them up for Gronk, and preps for a hellish rebuke.

Corros
AC 13, 26/25 HP
Casting Shatter on a group for Gronk to go bananas on
Will use Hellish Rebuke if hit

Gronk loves a good, straightforward toe-to-toe fight; this is rapidly turning into anything but. Bug-men, magical snakes, a wolf that used to be a dwarf, now hightailing it out of the fight (or so it seems to the half-orc) at full speed, and the rest of his companions, each doing his or her own thing.

Normally, he'd move alongside Nic in melee- the pair had, so far, fought very well as a two-man bash-and-slash team. But, surrounded as the companions were, someone had to keep the bugs off their backs. He spun around to face west and prepared to meet the approaching enemy.

Gronk
AC 16; HP 52/56
Ready action; will use Action Surge to make second melee attack; riposte reaction on tap

-
This message was last edited by the player at 03:38, Tue 24 May 2016.

Ulfgar lays down a squirming carpet of vipers at the feet of the insectoids forming the eastern face of the ring, then, transformed into a direwolf, dashes between two of them. They both swipe at the passing Ulfgar-wolf with their polearms but, beset by biting snakes, their attacks are distracted and clumsy; only one succeeds, slicing into the direwolf's right side as he runs by ( T2 -11HP, T3 -16HP, T4 -15HP, T13 -24HP; Ulfgar-wolf -5HP). Ulfgar-wolf quickly moves out of range of the bug-men's long-hafted weapons, but the painful wound breaks his concentration, banishing the serpentine summons.

Jenna is next to act, launching a Guiding Bolt into a bug-man on the Five's right flank. It reels back, still glowing from the aftereffects of Arma's power (T7 -14HP & grants advantage to next attacker).

In the blink of an eye, the tip of Nic's rapier darts outward, piercing what, on a human, would be its right cheek (T3 -14HP). Stung by the impact of the slim blade, the insectoid pulls away. Backpedalling, it swings its double-ended halberd-like weapon at the Ardani, but Nic easily evades the blade. His slashing riposte strikes the bug-man's head from its shoulders, killing it instantly (T3 -15HP = T3 is dead!). Two allies on either side of its now headless body counterattack but neither manage to connect with the slippery rogue. (Nic -2 superiority dice)

Corros centers his spell's intended impact point on the northern trio of thrikreen (this, he senses, is what they call themselves) and let's fly. The powerful thunderstrike staggers all three, the two just left and right of center receiving the worst of it (T11 -26HP, T12 -13HP, T1 -26HP).

Gronk turns around to face the insectoids attacking from the rear. When his chosen opponent draws within striking range, Gronk bashes it hard with a forehand blow, then catches it again on the backswing (T9 -24HP) with his morning star. It's flanking companions flail at the half-org with polearms and barbed forelimbs, striking him thrice (Gronk -16HP). He tries to respond, but fails to connect with his counterstrike. (Gronk -1 superiority die)

The trio of thrikreen wounded by Corro's Shatter spell attack the young warlock. The first to strike him erupts in a gout of flame, then collapses, burned to death (Corros -5HP; T11 is dead!). Undaunted, its companions press on, continuing the assault, and Corros nearly falls under the rain of blows (Corros -20HP).

Three insectoids close in on Jenna but the priestess manages to turn away most of their polearm blows with her shield (Jenna -5HP).


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:42, Tue 24 May 2016.

Corros knows that his spell hit its target hard, but he is a little disappointed that all three of his targets continued forward to maul him.  An attempted twist away leaves a blade scrape my across his ribs that The Library takes offense to, ripping the thikreen from this life in a blast of fire.  He would celebrate, the warlock is driven to the ground with a shout of pain by two other blows that leave blood flowing into his mouth coming out in spurts.

Corros is hurt bad and he knows it.  Jenna is in danger of being overwhelmed, he's afraid to distract her, and the others could fall alone as well.  A weak hand reaches for his wand, calling forth three magic missiles that streak out towards their targets.

Gronk, he calls out, unable to speak around the fluid flooding his lungs and mouth. Help me.

Corros
1/35hp, AC 13
Magic Missile wand, 3 charges, 4 remaining
2 missiles at T1, 1 at T9
1d4+1 each

Jenna can feel the force of the creatures' blows reverberate through her shield as it absorbs most of them, although a sudden sharp pain shoots through her left arm, followed a moment later by a feeling of wetness against her skin as one of them manages to catch her with a glancing blow.

Her attention is focused solely on her three attackers now, those obsidian eyes shifting from one to the other. Somewhere over her shoulder she can hear Corros cry out in pain. Arma was surely testing her, measuring the strength of her faith. And Jenna would not be found wanting. Her lips form a humourless smile as she lunges forward, swinging Arma's Blessing through the air, every ounce of power she could muster behind the blow as she tried to strike down the creature that the Warrior had illuminated for her (T7), her lips moving in a silent prayer to the Goddess to guide her blow. And when that one falls Jenna will turn to the next one, send it on the same journey as its companion.

Jenna
AC: 17, HP24/38
Warhammer +1
Using War Priest for bonus attack and Divine Favour for extra 1d4 damage
Primary target T7, secondary target T5

Gronk hears Corros' psychic plea, and he reacts quickly to help his physically fragile half-elf friend.

Trusting his shield to protect him from the three bug-men he's now choosing to ignore, Gronk pivots right and picks out the insectoid closest to Corros.

"I'm gonna squash you!" he shouts in the creature's bug face, trying to capture its attention. The half-orc gladiator's attack is designed to goad his opponent into a hasty counter-attack. With some luck, the monster will ignore the severely wounded warlock and turn its attention to Gronk instead.

The half-orc's instinct is taking over, channeled fury building to the point where he feels less pain as he doles out more.

Gronk (enraged)
AC 16; HP 42/56
Goading attack v. T12; Riposte on tap

-
This message was last edited by the player at 19:55, Tue 24 May 2016.

With the Summons gone, there was no possibility of kiting any of the insects, so Ulfgar turned around and dashed back into the fray.  He looked for an opportunity to threaten one of Nic's opponents, while Nic threatened one he was planning to chomp on.

Dire Wolf (AC: 14, HP: 37, Move 50’)
Move: 45' feet to a position near T4 and T13
Action: Attack T13 - Bite +5, Damage 2d6+3.  Must STR save vs. DC13 or get knocked prone.  Using Pack Tactics to gain Advantage.

This message was last edited by the player at 19:49, Tue 24 May 2016.

The sound of large blades cleaving flesh draws an involuntary wince from Nicolai even as he kicks away the corpse of his first victim.  A quarter-turn to force one of his oncoming opponents to veer around the other also gives him the chance for a glance over his shoulder.  Corros is gravely wounded but Gronk is clearly on the move in that direction --

-- and there's a furry blur heading back into the fight behind the creatures closing on Nicolai.  A grim imitation of a smile creases Nicolai's face as he maneuvers to hold his opponents' attention for a few more seconds.

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 23/28; superiority dice 2/4
Move: Maneuvering toward T13 for synergy with Ulfgar
Attack: Against T4 with +1 rapier (attack +7 w/ advantage; damage 1d8+2d6+4)
Contingency: If attacked and missed, will expend a superiority die for Riposte

Three incandescent violet darts shoot from the tip of Corros' Wand of Missiles. The thrikreen just east of north falls backward, steam venting from two mortal wounds burned through its abdomen (T1 is dead!). The thrikreen formerly facing off against Gronk is struck as well, but to lesser effect (T9 -4HP).

Gronk's attack against the surviving bug-man still threatening Corros (T12) is perhaps too enthusiastic, getting its attention but passing harmlessly wide of the mark. Otherwise, the half-orc's ploy works perhaps too well. He draws attacks from no less than three of the instectoids (T8, T10, & T12), four of which connect with his unprotected flesh (Gronk -12HP). He fights back desperately, capitalizing on his chosen opponent's miss with a powerful counterblow (T12 -18HP). A fourth bug-man (T9), badly wounded by the half-orc's earlier attacks and Corros' solitary Magic Missile, hesitates for a few heartbeats, then stalks forward, weapon lowered at the grounded warlock.

On the Five's southern flank, Jenna fights off three bug-men by herself. Arma's Blessing cracks one opponent's hard shell (T7 -8HP), but her follow up attack can't replicate that success. The war priestess' three attackers (T5, T6, & T7) hack away at her with their polearms, producing a fresh trio of painful wounds (Jenna -15HP).

As Nic maneuvers to grant himself and his lupine ally the advantage of complementary flanking attacks against the easternmost pair of instectoids, Ulfgar-wolf launches himself back into the fray, biting at the nearest monster's legs (T13) from behind. His canine teeth glance off of the insectoid's hard, rounded outer shell. The bug-man turns on its attacker and hacks at wolf, but Ulfgar manages to pivot out of the way of both blows.

Nic's rapier again pierces exoskeleton. When the wounded bug-man misses with a pair of rushed counterstrokes, the Ardani deftly answers with with a quick thrust through its thorax, dropping it, mortally wounded, to the ground (T4 is dead!). The insectoid now behind Nic (T2) somehow manages to miss the Ardani- twice- with its sweeping halberd attacks, making its presence known in the process.


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:43, Wed 25 May 2016.

Relief floods through Corros when Gronk arrives at his side.  Watching another of the thrikreen fall helps, but the five are still badly outnumbered and on the edge of catastrophe. With several of their enemy showing signs of severe injury, Corros lifts the wand again and spreads out reach of the missiles in an attempt to even the score a little more in The Five's favor.  Or to at least stay alive for another few seconds.


Corros
1/35 HP, AC 13
Wand of Magic Missiles 3 charges, 1/7 remaining
1 missile each at T7, T9, and T12

Jenna’s thigh is slashed, the material of her breeches ripped, blood running down her leg. The Priestess can taste more blood in her mouth as she faces her foes. Still three of them, for the first one had yet to fall, her second blow missing its mark.

The blows to her body are blows to her faith as well. How much more did Arma wish to test her? Had she not proved herself time and time again in the subterranean City? But still the Goddess wanted more. Jenna would give all that she had, but she could feel her strength ebbing from her with her blood. And as her strength fades, the realisation is dawning that she does not expect to survive this fight.

So be it. She will give her life defending her friends.

The slim Priestess deftly unbuckles the straps that hold her shield in place, let it fall to the ground so that she can heft Arma’s Blessing in both hands, lets out a wild cry as she lunges at her enemy, determined to see at least one of them dead before she falls.

Jenna
AC: 16, HP9/38
Warhammer +1 two handed
Using War Priest for bonus attack and Divine Favour for extra 1d4 damage
Primary target T7, secondary target T5. If T7 is already dead both attacks to T5
This message was last edited by the player at 07:41, Wed 25 May 2016.

Ulfgar leapt back after his bite failed to penetrate.  He'd need to find a softer part of the bug to sink his teeth into.  The druid knew he needed to kill this foe and quickly move on to fighting the others.  He carefully considered anatomical option on the creature before lunging forward once more to strike.

Dire Wolf (AC: 14, HP: 32/37, Move 50’)
Action: Attack T13 - Bite +5, Damage 2d6+3.  Must STR save vs. DC13 or get knocked prone.  Using Pack Tactics to gain Advantage if possible.

Gronk continues to defend Corros. Despite being badly wounded, the warlock is wreaking havoc with his magic. Gronk can't allow the wizardling to fall. The half-orc turns on the next closest bug-man and attempts to smash through its bony hide with Spike.

Gronk
AC 16; HP 30/56
0/4 Superiority Dice
Finishing T12 or attacking T10

-
This message was last edited by the player at 16:48, Wed 25 May 2016.

Another bugman falls, and another pivot and glance shows Nicolai that the fight is starting to equalize.  Gronk has intervened in Corros' fight - but Jenna, almost as bloody as the witchling, appears to be making a last stand.

Yeah, that's not on.

"Pull this one to me," Nicolai snarls to the skin-dancer, flicking his blade toward his last opponent's eyes for emphasis - and a distraction as he dances out of the sweep of its polearm.  Then he turns, hurtles another overgrown insect husk, and drives straight for the back of one of the two creatures still coming in on Jenna.

Nicolai
AC 17; HP 23/38; superiority dice 1/4
Bonus: Disengage (from T2)
Move: Into melee with T5/T6/Jenna
Attack: Against T5 with +1 rapier (attack +7, damage 1d8+2d6+4)
Contingency/Reaction: If attacked and missed, will expend last superiority die for Riposte

Three more glowing darts leap forth from Corros' wand, each shooting out in a different direction. Two more thrikreen meet their ends, crumpling to the cold earth in fleeting flurries of bright sparks. (T9 & T12 are dead!) The third Magic Missile blasts off one of Jenna's current opponent's four arms (T7 -4HP).

Trading protection for offensive power, the war priestess drops her shield and uses both hands to bring Arma's Blessing down on her opponent's bug head, smashing it in an explosion of yellowish ichor. (T7 is dead!)

Ulfgar channels all of his ursine instinct into an all-or-nothing, open-jawed lunge at his opponent's abdomen. His sharp wolf teeth tear into the bug-man's relatively soft underbelly, spilling its guts in a brief gusher of steaming gore. The creature stumbles as its legs give out, then crashes to the ground dead. (T13 is dead!)

Swinging Spike with a vengeance, Gronk bashes a dent in his target's thorax (T10 -16HP), forcing the creature backwards in obvious distress.

Rapier outstretched, Nic vaults one of the insectoid dead and becomes a human missile. The bug-man sees the flying attack coming and steps aside to avoid being kebabbed.

Without any audible warning, Nic's target and the remaining insectoids leap away from the fracas, each easily clearing about 30' from a standing start. Corros senses fear, disappointment, and resignation swirling in the creatures' hive mind.

They are too strong.
We have lost too many.
I am hurt.
The hive must survive.
We must flee.
Away!

The six survivors of the swarm skitter away, quickly disappearing into the snow-dusted rubble. The Five are left alone on the battlefield, surrounded now by seven battered instectoid corpses, still steaming amidst the churned-up snow and damp earth. In death, their well-camouflaged exoskeletons slowly transition in color from an environmentally appropriate grey-dappled white to an orange-ish brown.

After catching their breath, the Five take their loot and make their way out of the ambush-friendly ruins, emerging on to the open, snow-coated steppe. The horses are gone. The stakes used to hobble them are still in place, but the ropes have been cut. The Five, weary from their wounds, will have to walk home.

After a hike of several hours, the Five arrive back at the wagon trail that runs between Balefyre and Yonder's Hole to find the beginnings of a structure set just off of the tracks, opposite the mounded graves of Old Klem's caravan crew. It wasn't here the last time the Five passed through. A low wall constructed of stacked slate surrounds a rammed-earth floor, with a cellar cut square into one corner. The wall's been covered with a thin layer of straw; some sections are tarped over with oiled sailcloth. Next to the structure, a large corral has been staked out with wooden fence posts. A crude sign beside the unfinished building, facing Balefyre, reads,

Welcome to Pace
Population -
Future Home of the Halfway House Inn


Your Turn.

Congratulations, you have all leveled up!

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:11, Sat 04 June 2016.

As the bug-men left, Ulfgar, who shifted back to his dwarven form, breathed a sigh of relief.  They were a tough foe and he was quite impressed by their chitinous armor's ability to turn away his Dire Wolf form's vicious bite.  As a Druid, Frostbeard admired nature's way of creating adaptations that ensures a species survival.  By his reckoning, mother nature had made a better set of armor for these creatures than he'd been able to cobble together with pelts and hide.  The thought gave him an idea.

"I need just a minute before we set out," Ulfgar said.  He selected the two most intact Thri-Kreen corpse and covered them with his cloak.  Over the rest, he said ancient prayers and set a small stones upon their foreheads.  Then Ulfgar dragged the cloaked corpses behind cover near the ruins.  The dwarf ducked under the cloak and set about his task.  When he was done, he said his venerations and laid two small stones upon the cloak.

"Alright, ready to go," Ulfgar said, patting his bag of holding.

---

"I don't know Pace, but I'm sure he or she wouldn't mind if we laid out bedrolls and got some rest behind these walls," Ulfgar said.  "Especially as I'm happy to pay if'n they show up demanding coin for accommodation."

Frostbeard found a suitable spot and prepared to nap.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:18, Thu 26 May 2016.

Then

"Thank you," Jenna says to Nicolai as she sees the Ardani standing next to her, her eyes turning towards him, pools that are still pure obsidian resting on him for a moment before she closes them, breathes deeply, her chest rising and falling as she sinks slowly to her knees, leans against her hammer, its blunt head to the ground, her hands resting on it. Her face is streaked with whatever had erupted from the innards of the thing that she had slain. Her thigh is throbbing and she is bleeding from at least four different places where her flesh has been sliced open. She can taste blood in her mouth.

Arma had tested her. And she had proven herself worthy again. She felt...strange...weak...but, too, invigorated, for her skin had tingled as she had smashed the thing's head as though the Goddess had thought fit to Bless her with her divine grace.

The Priestess takes a deep breath, opens her eyes. They are still black. Slowly she rises to her feet, using Arma's Blessing to push herself up, wincing as she feels a fresh stab of pain in her leg. Looking over she sees Corros. She had heard him cry out, but had been so focused on her own fight that she had not realised how badly he had been hurt. She looks over at Gronk, anguish writ large on her face, but a reassuring nod from the half orc sets her mind at least partly to ease. Elsewhere, she can see Ulfgar set about some task.

"I need a minute as well." Jenna says, addressing her comment to them all. Her eyes have not changed colour. "A promise was made." Slowly, tentatively she walks over to one of their slain foes, its head lying on the ground parted from its body. She knew not that it was one that Nicolai had slain. Its weapon lay next to its body, where it had fell. Placing her hammer down on the ground Jenna picks up the decapitated head, holds it in one hand, the other reaching for the thing's weapon, pushing the pointed tip of the polearm hard into the thing's skull, causing more yellowish spray to strike her as she drives the other end of the polearm into the ground, hard.

"I told you that I would mount your head on a spike for all to see." the slim blonde hisses as she steps away, picks up her hammer and shield and then nods. "I am ready." It would be several minutes before her eyes regained their normal colour.

Then

It takes Gronk's help to get Corros back to his feet.  Then it takes a few moments of barf/coughing to clear his mouth of the blood their thrikreen opponents put there via battery to the warlock's body.  A glance down at his body shows the damage.

"Thanks," Corros manages to Gronk, relief thick in his voice.  "I'd be dead..so thanks."  He wasn't sure he would have survived much longer anyway, not if the insects hadn't pulled out when they did.  His fingers had formed the symbols needed to hurl a little more magical punishment at the retreating...backs? But he couldn't clear his mouth in time to speak the words.  The wand they'd been given had proven its worth.

He watches, oddly detached as Jenna mounts a head on spear, finishing her pre-battle oath in gory, if not literal, fashion.  It probably doesn't even matter if it was the same thrikreen, Corros has lost track of which one was which somewhere between being stabbed and the Library burning an insect to crisp.  The length of time that passes before her eyes return to normal, concerns him a little as he notes that each time she gives into battle rage it seems like it's a farther trip back.  Or I'm just imagining it.  What do I know about Arma and justice?

"I'll, uh, need a minute," he says with a grin he doesn't necessarily feel, trying to hide the depths of his injuries. "Just need to catch my breath.  Anyone want to check my injuries?  Make sure the important parts are all there?  Heart? Lungs?  Something to pass the time while Ulfgar is off being Ulfgar?"

---

Corros sits heavily on the small wall, legs, and body, weary from the long walk.  It hadn't been exactly surprising to find the horses missing when they'd returned to where they left them.  More like irritating and a sign of how this place seemed to be working against them.  Like trying to save the world didn't rate assistance from the actual world.  Bastards.

In defiance of their circumstances, the warlock produces a single copper and jams it into a gap between two of the stone.  "Hey look, we're they're first paying customers!"  With hands hiding a tremble of fatigue, he opens his waterskin and finishes what's left.  "Okay, I'll take first watch.  Sleep.  All of you."

Unless you want to talk, he adds silently to Jenna. We can sure make it look like you're sleeping, though.

Then:

"Ungh," Nicolai manages.  He finds a convenient boulder to lean against and contemplates his sword for a minute before cleaning and sheathing it.  He gives Jenna's display a rueful glance but withholds comment.

"Take all the time you want," he says to no one in particular, staring at the leaden sky.  With effort, he transfers his gaze to Corros.  "Hey, Gronk.  Nice save there."

---

Now:

Despite the horses' disappearance, Nicolai's mood and energy level improve steadily as the party leaves the ruined city behind.  By the time they draw into view of the construction site, he's almost cheerful.  "The caravan-master said this would be a good place to put in an inn," he remarks.  "I guess someone took him up on..." his voice trails off.

"Fuck," he says faintly, resignedly.  Then, in something approaching his normal tone: "This wasn't here when we came through before."  He scratches pointedly at his beard, which is several steps closer to a goatee than usual.  "'All the time you want.'  Heh.  Mórag's teeth.  I may want to retract that..."

Then:

Jenna feels a pang of remorse when Corros asks if someone wants to check his injuries. She should have been doing that rather than mounting the dead thing's head like a trophy. There's a further conflict of emotions as she remembers the dark and twisted thoughts that she had had about him in the underground City.

"Let me have a look." She says, walking over to the half elf, limping slightly. She's streaked in blood and whatever squirted out of the creatures, but she ruefully reflects that he looks much worse than she does as she steps up to the Warlock, places her hands on his arms, carefully, so as not to aggravate his wounds. "You need some rest. But on first glance I think everything is still there." It's said with a coy smile, her head dipping as her cheeks colour slightly.

---

Now:

The trek had felt like a long one, one aggravated by the injury to Jenna's leg that soon makes every step painful. She tries to ignore the pain as best as she can, but at one point she has to lean on Nicolai for support for a short while. Given the choice she would rather it were Corros of course, a fact that she suspected the Rogue would be well aware of, but the Half Elf was clearly in no condition to render assistance.

"I wonder where the people are?" She muses almost to herself as Corros thrust a coin into a gap between the stones. Was Arma about to test her again? Hurl more dangers at her? Jenna looks around warily as they make their preparations to bed down.

She's just lay down on her bedroll when she feels the gentle caress in her head that heralds the presence of Corros. It's a welcome sensation, calming, soothing, a contrast to all of the conflicts she is experiencing. The slim Priestess closes her eyes, pulls up her blanket, rolls on to her side. And opens up her mind to the Warlock.

I thought that I was going to die. That we were all going to die. It felt strange. Not scared, I wasn't scared, I had accepted it. But it was as though I had somehow failed Arma. It is as though She wants more than I can give.

Different images flash through her head. A frightened blonde haired ten year old girl hiding as orc raiders slaughtered those around her. A man in the garb of an Armist Priest carrying her away from that place of death. Lessons in the sheltered environment of the Cloisters, being taught how to fight, how to serve the Goddess. The same girl, older now, lurking, unseen, eavesdropping on the elder Priests. They are arguing, one of them thumping the table, another shaking his head. Leaving the Cloisters, setting out with the same Priest who had shook his head. And then burying him days before she had encountered the others. Since the age of ten Arma has been her life.

The crossroads is quiet except for the sounds of adventurers bedding down or preparing to bed down.  Corros doesn't skimp on the watch, the groups safety depends on his alertness for the next couple of hours, but he doesn't simply stare into space, waiting for something to emerge from the forest.  The elven heritage of his mother has granted him the ability to see into the dark, at least somewhat, and that sight gives him enough comfort that he is willing to "speak" to Jenna for a while.  The perch he chooses against the wall is close enough that he can overlook his companions and allows him to lean against the still warm stone.

I was afraid, he admits without trying to hide it.  I was afraid I would die and wouldn't be able to protect you.  Or the others and that everything would have ended up meaningless.  But fear isn't really new.

Images of his own life are brought to the surface and shared.  Pieces of memories at first: a snatch of songs in the elven language, a bright forest, and a slender elven woman with purple hair so dark it is almost black.  Then there is Corros walking into a city, hungry and scared, holding his mother's hand, then standing, screaming in a public square as people walk around him, ignoring the child.  A pack of children arrive, shoving him down and mocking him.  The same children, a few years older, hiding and stealing food from the market.  Acquitors of a blood cult pulling children off the street to do something with. Corros hiding whatever food he could and stealing away into secret places where no one could hurt him.

It was this way until the dreams started.  More visions, this time of a massive library whose geometry gives proof to it's magical origins.  Shelves of books line every wall, the floor, even descending from the ceiling.  Doors that won't open until they want to.  Tables with candles that never burn out where he learned to read, sounding out letters.  Warmth.  Safety.  Power.  For the first time, a power to protect himself.  Then visions of a teenager on the street, rich with with the arrogance of youth despite being a street rat.  Then the attention of the Eleventh Finger and a burning city and being told to leave Silverleaf.  Through it all, there is a strong undercurrent of being alone and scrambling for everything he ever had.  Except for The Library, his one safe place accessible only in his dreams.

Corros is older than his nineteen years.  Experience has taught him to shield his emotions well, but he can't keep the fear of losing Jenna from leaking out in his thoughts.  Or how badly he wants to walk over to her bedroll and kiss her, hard, in celebration of the fact that they are both still alive.

Her eyes still closed, Jenna gazes at the images in her mind, awestruck as she looks on books that stretch for as far as the eye can see, making the library within the Cloisters that represented centuries of knowledge accumulated by the Priests of Arma appear to be no more than a mere cupboard. The blonde haired Priestess tries to reach out in her mind, to touch one of the tomes, but that is when she finds herself gazing on a City that burns. Perhaps it is this Library's way of telling her that she can look but not touch.

Did you...was that your doing? She is referring to the burning City, although as soon as she has thought it she wishes that she could retract it, lest it cause the Warlock hurt. She can hear his other thoughts too, as clearly as though they were sitting in a room facing each other and he was speaking them aloud, feel the emotions that are spilling out.

You are not alone. Not any more.More images flood her mind, shared with Corros, this time of things that have not yet passed. Her, in his arms, his lips finding hers. A room, somewhere, she knows not where, although it is not their current residence in Balefyre. The trappings are luxurious. Her armour is scattered about the floor, intertwined with his robes.

But amongst the images there's confusion too, uncertainty. For the Warrior expects devotion. Dedication. And She does not care to share Her priests with others. With mortals. We need to talk about this later. Alone. She meant when they could be properly alone, rather than a secret conversation whilst their companions lay around them, asleep.

Gronk's toothy, awe-shucks grin stands out in stark contrast to his bright red cheeks. For some reason, kudos from these few, these new friends, mean more than the loudest roar of the biggest Freeport pit crowd.

"Don't mention it guys- you'd all do the same for me."

He lays out his bedroll at the base of the unfinished wall, covers himself in a blanket, and falls fast asleep. The former gladiator dreams not of arenas, or cloisters, or arcane libraries, but of a sexy, dirty-blond city watch commander (none other than Commandant Kara Overmark) wearing nothing but a come hither smile...

"Thanks for saving my city. Again. I wanted to give you your share of the reward, personally. Come here, big guy."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:51, Mon 30 May 2016.

The night passes quietly- the moon in roughly the same phase as when the party last came this way, but tracing a slightly different course in the dark sky.

Long Rest completed.

Dawn comes cold and crisp, a layer of hoarfrost crackling from the party's disturbed bedding. The Five are startled to find that they are not alone. Perched on the low wall, or hopping about just outside, is an unkindness of ravens- nearly a dozen jet black birds of considerable size, considerately refraining from waking the campers by cawing.

The birds make no attempt to cause trouble, and they don't seem interested in anyone except for Nicolai, to whom they pay particular attention. They refuse to be shooed away, not far at least, but they make no effort to hinder the party's breakfast or groggy-headed efforts to break camp.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:53, Mon 30 May 2016.

The ravens come in the Liar's Hour.  Nicolai is on watch, facing away from the sullen fire and into the equally-sullen wind.  He has felt as if he's on the cusp of something otherly since the skirmish with the thri-kreen, so he does not scream when the first orange-eyed corvid settles on the wall in a rattle of wings and speaks to him in a voice of whiskey and disquiet.  A distant corner of him is obscurely proud of that restraint.

"Diarmuid Ma'Thaidhg," and he knows he's in deep, deep trouble because no one still living knows him by that name, "do you know why I'm here?"

An icy certainty that "Nicolai" has been denying for months settles along his spine.  He forces himself to bow as deeply as his seated position allows.  Standing would put his eyes above those of the raven and that seems like a remarkably impolitic act.  "I'm neither bard nor priest nor of sufficient rank to receive one of the Cofgodas at my fire.  So I'm the last of the Reach."

A second raven alights alongside the first.  "Not quite.  There are others.  But none of higher rank remain.  Aisling Tsagairt was the last Castellan.  You knew her as Johanna Salvai.  She fell tonight."

Nicolai thinks of Johanna, of a silk dress and a starmetal dagger and a red-lacquered harp, of two swift and bloody months in Varimor, and does not close his eyes.  "And my oath?"  His voice is low and even.

"You remain bound," chuckles a third raven as it picks at the buckled flap of Gronk's pack.  "Your 'limited evidence' is correct, so far as it goes.  Though the Riordan heir is veiled from me."  All three birds hiss with frustration.

Nicolai lets his own frustration leak into his tone.  "So what would you have me do?  You didn't come here just to tell me of Johanna's death."

"I did.  But not to torment you."  The first raven regards him gravely.  "Think on what it means.  There is no one from whom you can seek orders now.  If you will accept advice," and the bird's tone is dustily sardonic, "continue on the path you've chosen.  Rebuild.  Listen.  You have the tools, and you have my favor," a most un-avian sigh, "attenuated though my touch is this far from the Byrne lands.  And I leave you these.  They will extend your eyes and voice.  And occasionally your reach."

Another double handful of ravens descends upon the camp, eerily silent aside from the flutter of their wings.  They take up station on stumps, atop piles of building supplies, on Jenna's stacked armor - briefly, in the latter case, before hopping away with a somehow apologetic air.  In unison, they fix their gazes on Nicolai - then the otherworldly intelligence slides out of their eyes.

Nicolai breathes deeply.  "The collective noun for you is 'unkindness,'" he tells the former spokesraven.  It chuckles softly in return.