Hunky Horror Construct Show
Log Info
- Title: Hunky Horror Construct Show
- Emitter: Jinks
- Characters: Paenitia, Faranmidahn, Aryia, Mercy, Seyardu
- Place: Franks and Steins
- Time: Monday, October 18, 2021, 2:00 PM
- Summary: Adventurers come up to the lab, to see what's on the slab. It's a hunk of Hunky burning love, and in just seven hours it can make you a man! The all-woman team wants none of that and beats the construct down, very quickly. There's also a Ms. Curielle who gets away. Very troubling.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order =-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Faranmidahn 3'3" 35 Lb Halfling Female Albino Lucht woman. Knight of Spiders. So, SO Fluffy. Aryia 4'8" 110 Lb Shadow Elf Female A heavily scarred mul with a resolved look about her. Mercy 5'5" 150 Lb Human Female A platinum haired Aesir woman, in flamboyant black. Seyardu 5'6" 150 Lb Sith-Makar Female A friendly silver sith-makar with a perpetual squint. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- As the GM =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
There's a light. Over at the "Franks and Steins" place.
Luckily enough, that's where you're headed.
It's job for the Temple's materials-gathering efforts by way of the Society for the Progressive Arcanists that somehow involves the Watch (who has in turn requested aid from the Adventurer's Guild). There's going to be SO MUCH paperwork. It goes something like this: the Arcanists had planned a donation only to find materials from their stores missing. Research revealed theft by a groundskeeper. Something about the arrest of the groundskeeper is beyond the usual scope of the Watch.
So here you are. Walking towards Franks and Steins, a Lucht-run establishment known for its sausages and bitter, hoppy beers. You're not going inside. Into the light and out of the rain. That would be too easy. No, you're meeting the unconventional convention at the mouth of an alley NEXT to it.
There's a quartet; the culprit and three member's of the watch. A pale half-Sil with dark hair stands in her green smock-like gardening attire. An odd pair of Lucht watchmen flank her; a fellow with a stomach bulging against his breastplate, long, wispy blonde hair and a ghoulish mien then a female with a large mane of curly red hair and a slapdash approach to her crimson lipstick. An old Eldanar with wavy, receeing salt-and-papper hair and brass glasses sits in a wheelchair with a longrifle strapped on the back.
All four stand under a tarp and out of the rain, silently staring out from the alley waiting as you approach.
Approach Paenitia does, riding on Ramirez, her Ivory Peacock-Andalusian hippogryph who has splashes of crimson and red eyes on his feathers. He is quiet, she clanks, her rust red armour not doing well in the rain, especially after being crushed and beaten back into shape.
As the Red Knight is also a lucht, she would love to go inside and feels herself pulled towards the carousing and the warmth. Yet, duty calls, and Ramirez high-steps his way up to the tarpaullen. "Hola the Watch. I am Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Haranna, Knight of the Pillar and Paladina of Tarien, although they will not admit it."
"I am here for the doing of things that need doing."
Unto the establishment rides a Knight of the Purple Rose, astride a glossy black Hunstman spider the size of a large mastiff, clad in polished studded black leather barding.
Faran, the pale, fluffy Rose in question looks about along the way, considering the high places it may become necessary to cover if things go spectacularly awry.
She spares a glance to her fellows, then, to the gathered, "And I am Sir Faranmidahn Waywalker, of the Order of the Purple Rose, here at the behest of the Explorer's Guild, well met." after the opening from Paenitia, once Torrent has skittered up into the shelter alongside the hipogriff.
A job? That involves the Watch? Aryia's suspicions were sky high as she accepted the request.
A scarred mul'neissa in an open verdant green jacket with softly clanging buckles rolls up to the meeting spot, her pulling her grey cloak closed in the rain. Only to doff it as she gets under the tarp. She raises a hand to Paenitia in greeting, and nods in agreement. She too is here for the doing of things that need doing.
She grins at the sight of Fara. Oh. This would be fun. She waves to the fluffyknight.
The black and platinum wearing inquisitress is again covered in a seaman's Oilskin, more of a dark charcoal that true black. It's open at the front however giving her a access to her weapons and a clear view of the symbol of Daeus on her chest. ONE of her many crossbows is exposed on her back as well. It's her 'precious' the nasty black one with the odd angular grip, like that on a one-handed fire belcher except more angular. The stock is odd too, hollow you could say, just a butt plate with two non-parallel rods connecting it back to the repeater.
Girded for action she walks along to the rear and side of the party where hopefully they won't mess with her sightlines. Her hat is keeping water out of her grim visaged face and off her stiff neck. She appears to expect serious opposition to her pursuit of JUSTICE! and is read for it.
She directs her 'Stern Gaze' (TM Inquisitor) at the group under the awning but is polite enough.
"Greetings Watchmen and Citizens. I am Reedemer Mercy Hjarlhundr, Shepherd in your tongue, of the Order of the Radiant Sun, Here to protect the Innocent and mete out JUSTICE! can I trouble you for a bit of your time?"
Seyardu was one of those working with the temples, and finding these strange objects was odd. But, a need nonetheless. Seyardu Joined the request, if there was a need to deal with the thieves, perhaps they could be spoken to, so she offered to join along.
The silver makari was waiting near the building with little care for the rain, and she turns to wave to those she recognizes, and are likely not there for the tavern.
"How'd you do. I see you've--" the shackled gardener begins-- only to be interrupted by a "Quiet you!" from the male Lucht. Leaning against his bardiche as he is the fellow almost seems to have a hunched back. The half-Sil smiles and licks her lips in amusement, unrepentant even if she's caught.
"Now, now," calms the aged Eldanar as he pats the air. He's not a native Alexandrian if the accent is any indication. While the other three seem taken aback by the arrival of the fantastic menagerie of mounts and mercenaries he takes it all sitting down. "It is gut that you are here. I am Sergeant Schott. Thees are Squmm and Violet und the apprehended ist a Ms. Curielle."
"So many titles... I'm just a--" the half-Sil begins again, only to be nudged and hushed by the female Lucht this time. This whole affair seems to be quite the joke to the Llyranesi-kin.
"Ja..." Schott sniffs, smoothing at the plaid blanket covering his legs in the wheelchair. "Ms. Curielle has stolen goods meant for the Temple's gatherings. She lives beneath the restaurant-- in the basement-- but claims there ist a dangerous construct guarding the supplies. And perhaps an... Eddie? Who ist also trouble."
"Edithopoles." Curielle adds with a hungry smile.
"Ah!" Paenitia says, head nodding to the explanation. She turns her ever grinning mask towards Ms. Curielle. "And you power up Edithopoles?"
She looks around, "It is a thing you want smashed? Talked to surrender?"
"So, did she steal these things?" Seyardu asks with a raised brow. "How did this come about then, where they have the things but they cannot be retrieved?"
"I take it this is why we are here, then. But can we trust anything shared?"
Mercy ponders and just maintains situational awareness. She says nothing and watches the surroundings in sharp-eyed silence.
Aryia scratches her head, glancing to each of the Watch members, though her gaze settles on Violet.
Wrong Violet. She pouts slightly.
She looks over to the others in the party asking questions, her nodding in agreement. Smash? Talk? Aryia is great at the former. Somewhat subpar on the latter.
GAME: Aryia rolls sense motive: (2)+15: 17 GAME: Mercy rolls sense motive: (14)+10: 24 GAME: Paenitia rolls sense motive: (7)+11: 18 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls sense motive: (17)+7: 24 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls knowledge/arcana: (16)+10: 26 GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/arcana: (9)+5: 14 GAME: Seyardu rolls sense motive: (1)+sense potive: 1 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Faranmidahn casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 8 DC: 14 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls will: (12)+8: 20
The two Lucht are a bit weird-looking but they're not acting especially fishy. Neither is the Sgt. The gardener lady seems entirely unmoved by the fact she's being arrested.
Which is weird.
Sir Waywalker gives a considered nod toward the prisoner, then spares her countrymen a quick lookover before she brings up a hand in a strange posture.
As she flicks and flexes her hand through a quick set of arcane flourishes, she whispers, "Magic forces sweeping earth to sky, reveal your flow to my focused eye." <halfling>
She turns a gaze, irises a solid, luminous pink, toward the group while the others start to ask questions to various shades of answer or flippancy in response.
Whatever she sees makes her blink, then narrow her eyes, "Sergeant, what means have you used to take this person into your custody?"
Without looking from the quartet, she asides to her companions, "The good news is, it's likely not an enormous construct, but it will be trouble, nonetheless, though we can only guess at it's particular quirks."
The Ash-Blonde inquisitress's head twists towards the Gardener her eyes sharpening with suspicion. She peers as if trying to figure out what the woman is up to. Her crossbow comes off her back and she cocks a bolt into it. The stock is tucked into her shoulder and her hand is on the pistol grip. However, her finger is out of the trigger guard and the bow is pointed down. Mostly un threateningly... unless you're worried about your kneecaps. She steps further aside. While she's confident of her point blank shot she doesn't want anyone crossing her sight lines. She sweats a little under her oilskin and usual accoutrements. Something ISN'T right and she doesn't know what.
"We would recover what ist left of the stolen materials. You must destroy the construkt." Schott answers before turning his head, looking up at the half-Sil and inviting her to speak.
"Eddie is an... old flame. Bit of an... old hat." Curielle chuckles at this, her white teeth revealed when her lips pull back in amusement. "Assembling the construct has been... rocky. But you should be able to recover some of the materials I had acquired. You'll need this to get inside," up comes her shackled hands and she wiggles a finger with a signet on it. "A ring to prove you're no joker." The two Lucht ready weapons when she lifts her hand up just to be safe.
All the readying of weapons makes the gardener quirk an eyebrow and smirk coquettishly. "Oh my."
The sergeant considers the spider-mounted cavalier with a bit of a puzzled expression. "We were watching at her hatch as she came home from work, made sure she was unarmed, und slapped the cuffs on her."
Paenitia twists in her seat, watching her fellow knight go through her eldritch motions. Her fellow-in-arms continues to amaze her, but all expression is hidden by the wide grin of her mask. Only her dark eyes betray a curiosity and her interest. Then, she twists the other way to look over her companions. Nothing suspicious leapt out at her. Something suspicious might leap out soon.
"Is it the time to arm up?" The Red Knight asks cheerfully, pulling her shield into position on her left arm. She points accusingly at the gardener with the rusty finger of her gauntlet. "Do you weight the same as the duck? Are you the witch? the demon? Answer before we build the bridge out of you to be sure!"
Aryia wasn't feeling to sure about most of this, but she does narrow her eyes at the gardener. Thankfully, the mute doesn't have any weapons to bring to bear, nor does she make a fuss as such weapons do rise. But she does motion one thing to anyone and no one in particular, "Not going to lie, getting kind of tired of people fucking us adventurers over. I don't want this shit to go ass up."
<Handspeech>
"So, there is a construct. You do realize the danger of creating what I can only assume is an actively hostile construct, yes?" Seyardu asks, crossing her arms. The squints at the captive and the ring. "You seem remarkably calm about telling us this. Do you expect us to be injured badly going to investigate?"
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (10)+10: 20 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (13)+10: 23 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (2)+10: 12 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (6)+10: 16
The albino Lucht holds up her hand, "This 'gardener' has interesting hobbies." she notes, a subtle hint of distance in her voice as she maintains her mystical scrutiny.
Again, holding her gaze on the sil in custody, she turns her head slightly to the side to, "There is an aura I haven't quite pinned down, yet... I believe she's being watched, and I'm certain that's not her true guise."
Ramirez gives a wary glance at Torrent. He knows his fellow-in-saddle, but also remembers large spiders sometimes explode. His large eyes meet the multiple ones, seeking some signs of pending combustion.
The 'gardener' is up to no good and it's making Mercy's Inquisitor-Sense Tingle.
Typically Mercy doesn't shoot people on suspicion like a bad cop.
The Luchts shift and glance between each other, their polearms leveled at the 'gardener's' back as Faranmidahn relays her arcane observations. Sgt. Schott reaches over his shoulder and looses the rifle, a mastercrafted piece of artifice with a barrel ending in a polished-gold head of an open eagle's beak.
Curielle slowly pulls the ring off of her finger and levels a hungry, deliberate look at the alibno Lucht. After an odd pause she speaks, "Come down to the lab. See what's on the slab. I see you shiver with antici..."
The half-Sil tenses...
Jinks pages Faranmidahn with ‘You hear the half-Sil in your head, echoing. "Oh, you deliciously clever thing..."’
Mercy raises her bow that the 'Gardener' in a bit of Alarm. She's anticipating an attack but JUSTICE! says she has committed no crimes yet.
<OOC> Paenitia says, "well swift to challenge, move action to dismount," <OOC> Paenitia says, "sense motive to see who the guards are planning on attacking?" <OOC> Paenitia says, "draw warhammer as part of the dismount/move" GAME: Paenitia rolls sense motive: (15)+11: 26
The guards look ready to join the melee, but they're in the inquisitrix's situation. They don't want to stab prematurely.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+19: (16)+19: 35 GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon5: (13)+9+2: 22 (+2 Flanking) GAME: Paenitia rolls damage5+6: aliased to 1d8+1+6: (6)+1+6: 13 GAME: Mercy rolls weapon1: (11)+5: 16
"No! Do not say! Ramirez, I dismount!" Paenitia orders, sliding down the hippogryph's wing to land in front of Curielle, her warhammer following and rising. "You will fight only me. Do not cast!"
She's casting.
The Red Knight swings, leaning into it. Her blow barely connects, the crowding of the other guards giving her the opportunity. As she lands a solid thump, there's a hissing from her hammer. "She has the seeming!"
The crossbowwoman Curses loudly in Draconic. "FEWMETS, fouling the HOARD!" as her bolt flies wide but at least doesn't hit anyone else. She slings it back... looks over at Paenitia and loosens her sword. Ready to draw either weapon as she decides to need to.
"...-pation!" The half-Sil finishes, her lips now a dark blue surrounding a maw of pointed fangs. There's an ozone pop and her form seems to tear and stretch before disappearing.
The ring she was holding clatters to the ground near where her feet were.
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls spellcraft: (6)+7: 13
So much happened in such little time. Aryia was just getting herself ready to launch into a fight, but instead she found herself wanting. "... fucking. Mages," she comments with a gesture before spitting on the ground. "Guess we're going into that lab. Except this time we're not getting our backs stabbed." <Handspeech>
"Sergeant Schott!" Cries the male Lucht watchman, alarmed, when their prisoner vanishes into thin air.
"Violet!?" Schott asks, wondering if the female Lucht can espy the creature.
"Squmm?" She looks to her partner with a shake of her head. What happened?
Nearby there is an angled door that leads into the basement below Franks and Steins. A heavy black chain with an odd-looking padlock secures the handle to the stone frame.
The rain continues to pitter-patter out onto the tarp and the greater world beyond.
"That explains why they were so calm about everything going on." Seyardu sighs, relaxing their grip on the polearm they pulled out. "Everyone appears alright for now, but they are gone."
"Let us not linger, but do not touch that ring until we know more."
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls perception: (10)+4: 14
Well, now she's hearing voices....
Faran seems startled by something and a hand rises half toward her hood before she spits back a, "Mind yourself, varlot!"
Her fingers are forming the first of what will probably be a chain of arcane sigils, as the other hand goes for her longblade.
Torrent, feeling the familiar vibrations, tenses into combat readiness.
Though... is it all for naught?
She looks about for signs of where the creature went, rooftops, corners, eyes still alight, "See her?"
Hearing the concern about the ring, she remarks, "It isn't enchanted, Seer, but that doesn't necessarily make it safe, either."
GAME: Paenitia rolls knowledge/local: (10)+10: 20
"Careful, that the lovers' ring," Paenitia says with more confidence than she should. "It swap places, or take to the bedside." The Red Knight advances, looking at the chained door, the ring again.
"Or, I am wrong. It the key to the lock." She picks it up, puts it on, fist-bumps the lock and rotates her wrist. The padlock opens and the chain goes slack.
"She can go all the places, but I think the basement with the construct is where we find her." She shoots a quick glance at Faranmidan, such a grin, "Ramirez, guard! I think we once more ducking into the places my friend."
Paenitia pulls the chains free and opens the doors.
There's no sign of the half-Sil in the alley or on rooftops within your line-of-sight. You can't feel her hungry eyes on you, either. Her invitation remains in her wake; the door down to her home-- the lab?-- is open now, the portal waiting at the paladina's feet.
GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (6)+22: 28 <OOC> Aryia spend one ki before heading down to use Barkskin! +3 AC
Aryia blinks as the doors are thrown open. Yep. This was a trap. At least they knew it was before it became a problem. A tinge of fear, a smarting of anger, then a firmness settles on her visage. The mute pugilist cracks her neck and rolls her shoulders. Right. Let's do this.
The mul'neissa of the group was ready.
The stairs down into the basement are narrow and the lip low. Paenitia has no issue descending them but Faranmidahn has to hug her spider. The descent for the larger folk isn't uncomfortable but it's still worth making a point not to bump your head on the way down.
The room beyond is almost what you'd expect from a basement; packed earthen floors covered with faded rugs, a pair of narrow closets for storage, and another set of stairs leading to the interior of the upper floors-- though those are stacked with boxes and crates giving you the impression they're no longer used.
There are signs that the place has been re-fit for living; a bed and chest of drawers to the south, a work table to the north. The large, fogged-glass tub burbling in the middle of the room is... unusual. There are arcane runes smeared across the surface here and there. Rivets rust where water leaks at a glacial pace. The quiet sounds of people in the eatery above are muffled by the intervening wooden structure.
GAME: Seyardu casts Bless. Caster Level: 8 DC: 15 GAME: Seyardu casts Magic Circle Against Evil. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Faranmidahn casts Invisibility. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16 <OOC> Faranmidahn says, "aryia is invis"
There's no immediate sign of the half-Sil (or whatever she is) named Curielle. The basement place is lived in, the bed unmade, and Seyardu can already see half-empty sacks and a few small crates underneath the workstation with the Arcanist's Society insignia stenciled and stitched on them.
The tank taking up a good chunk of floor space burbles and slops, the rainbow-colored fluid within sloshing around as a large shadow begins to move. The metal framing on the tub groans and a few rivets pop, water spilling out with increasing rapidity. You've enough time to brace before the glass cracks and smashes outward, alchemical fluid filling the room with an awful acrid stink of rust, overcooked meat, and exotic plants. This just went from good, to bad, to meat ogre.
The construct is revealed, over-muscled and dim with glittering golden briefs protecting whatever modesty a creature like him might have. The flesh is discolored with bruises and covered in stitches and staples. He looks almost like a gigantic, piecemeal human. Golden blonde hair sticks, dripping, to his scalp. "RELIIIIIIIEVE TENSION!" He bellows, flexing to threaten a popped stitch (or twenty).
There's a clatter from the southern closets, things falling off shelves as a small rodent of some kind jumps around.
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls knowledge/arcana: (19)+10: 29
Last time she'd seen a golem there was a time warping of some kind involved. It was inert, that time, but this, "Flesh golem!" is very much awake now it seems.
The Purple Rose pulls her lance from the carrier on Torrent's saddle as she calls, "Most magic won't work on it, use adamantine where you can, and we have to drop it fast or it will go mad!"
She slaps her visor into place with a clank, and she further advises, "Surround him in a staggered format, martial, caster, martial, guard to one side and you're be able to capitalize on it's inattention."
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d100: (67): 67 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d3: (3): 3, "Slams on Paenitia" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+13: (14)+13: 27 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+13: (8)+13: 21 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+5: (10)+5: 15 GAME: Jinks damaged you for 15 points. 43 HP remaining.
"BYOO-TEE-FUUUUUULL!" Cries the hunk, lurching forward to consider the room with empty, glass eyes. It rolls its shoulders forward, pectorals pressed together and flaring as the definition of its triceps' definition ripples. Then it swings both arms like an enraged ape at the paladina, battering her with one but missing the other.
<OOC> Paenitia says, "swift to challenge and full attack back, take a 5' step to get flanking" GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon5+2: (1)+9+2: 12 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon5+2-5: (11)+9+2+-5: 17
"Ufffn!" Paenitia brings up her shield in time to block the slam. It shoves her across the floor. There is the sound of crumpling metal, a pinging as rivets pop and a strap pulls free. Her rusty armour is showing its weaknesses.
"Igno...rrr.. oop!" Paentia shouts, bringing her warhammer up and losing her grip on it. All that fluid spraying about made the handle slippery. She bobbles it, getting ahold of the weapon to swing crossways, issuing her challenge again, "Ignore me at your Peril. Fight only me Sunshine!"
Although the hammer-head flies through empty space, her attack is easily overlooked.
GAME: Aryia rolls stealth+20: (20)+16+20: 56 <OOC> Aryia CEASES EXISTING
This was the first time that Aryia was given a spell that affected her like this. She'd never been invisible. It's really hard being invisible, when your entire shtick is using your body to batter folk into a pulp. And when the sense of sight doesn't match up with how things feel, there's an odd sort of feeling in her gut that reminded her of being sea sick.
And a freakish golem busts free from its intubation. She hops in the air a bit as liquid spread out along the floor, her slipping on some glass and doing an odd split without anyone seeing. There is some muttered cursing in hissed Undercommon before the foot prints... cease existing.
Unknown to even Taara herself, the Arcanist's society's goods were being reverse pilfered. It's not stealing if you're returning it!
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+13: (17)+13: 30 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+5: (6)+5: 11 GAME: Seyardu rolls knowledge/arcana: (6)+5: 11 GAME: Seyardu casts Blessing of Fervor. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18
When the tank breaks, Seyardu is close to it, and takes the brunt of the smashing. Then she sees the creature, and the sith-makar squints. "Be careful!" She shouts, heeding the directions and stepping back, taking a blow to her side in the process. She reaches for her holy symbol and holds it up, offering a familiar prayer to most that fills them with unnatural alacrity.
GAME: Faranmidahn rolls knowledge/arcana: (14)+10: 24 <OOC> Faranmidahn says, "ok, swift action, arcane strike, then pokey-pokey with my lance, taking the extra attack from bof" <OOC> Faranmidahn says, "since i'm effectively a lvl 8 caster, i get +2 damage and the lance is considered magic, plus challenge damage" GAME: Faranmidahn rolls weapon15: (15)+7: 22 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls 1d6+1+2+2: (3)+1+2+2: 8 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls weapon15+1: (2)+7+1: 10
Her knowledge of the arcane comes to some use as she realizes her enemy's defense, Faran imbues her lance with a fraction of her arcane might and thrusts at the construct, landing a marring, if not telling blow, "Fire-!" she calls with the first thrust.
Twisting back for the second, it glances harmlessly off the arcane flesh, "Or cold!"
There's a rose eyed glance to her fellow casters, "No lightning!"
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d100: (69): 69 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d4: (3): 3, "He's attacking Sey." GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+13: (14)+13: 27 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+13: (12)+13: 25 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+5: (13)+5: 18 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+5: (9)+5: 14
The creature reacts at the pricking from the albino Lucht on the roof, looking that direction and noticing Seyardu in the general vicinity. "SEVEN. HOURS. OOOOOLD!" It cries, lighting up both fists and bringing them down in a battering, two-pronged slam. It smells awful and the uncanny, pieced-together construction of the monster makes him anything but a glory to behold.
<OOC> Paenitia says, "okay, extra attack from BoF, full attack, +2 for Hunk attacking Sey, Cav, +2 flanking also" GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon5+2+2: (12)+9+2+2: 25 GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon5+2+2-5: (15)+9+2+2+-5: 23 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage5+6: aliased to 1d8+1+6: (1)+1+6: 8 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage5+6: aliased to 1d8+1+6: (5)+1+6: 12 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage5+6: aliased to 1d8+1+6: (2)+1+6: 9
The little lucht, the one in the crumpled red armour not the one on the spider, splashes through the alchemical fluid and swings. "I tell you!" Paenitia shouts.
She swings at a knee. WHACK, "I am the Wild and.." she reverse her swing, hitting the other side of the knee with an even louder noise, "...the untamed thing!"
She whips the hammer around in a wide circle, planting the head into those golden shorts, "I am the bee with the Sting!"
Her blows batter him, knocking the staples holding the skin in place over the stacked muscle to reveal tendon and meat beneath.
"Paenitia mean Pae the attention to me!"
GAME: Aryia rolls stealth+20: (6)+16+20: 42
In the corner of the chaos, of spells and challenges and pokey sticks, there is a shift in the shadow. One by one, the boxes of supplies vanish into thin air. Like they were never there in the first place.
Outside, it is dark and rainy. Amongst the rubbish in the alleyway, a glance away and back would note there was just a little bit more rubbish. Along with a grey cloak thrown over the top of it. Trash. Inconspicuous trash. Nothing more, nothing less.
Aryia, internally: "For fuck's sake I can't see my feet, I twisted my ankle owwwwwww."
Everything is just fine.
Everythign is just fine for everyone.
GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+5+6: (2)+5+6-2: 11 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+5+6: (14)+5+6-2: 23 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d20+5+1: (16)+5+1-2: 20 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d8+3+6+1: (3)+3+6+1: 13 GAME: Seyardu rolls 1d8+3+6+1: (3)+3+6+1: 13
Seyardu grunts again as creature slams into them, and she nearly buckles from the strikes, but remainse on her feet. The cleric takes her polearm and slashes at the creature, before ducking back out of reach of their arms.
"I will be fine, I just need a moment!" She shouts, before wincing and clutching at their side.
<OOC> Faranmidahn says, "alas, my fire spell would hose everyone in the room, so, bof extra attack, arcane strike, stabby stabby" GAME: Faranmidahn rolls weapon15+1: (20)+7+1: 28 (THREAT) GAME: Faranmidahn rolls weapon15+1: (20)+7+1: 28 (THREAT) GAME: Faranmidahn rolls 2d6+2+4+4: (5)+2+4+4: 15 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls weapon15: (3)+7: 10
"Seer!" Faran cries out in alarm, then she narrows her eyes, a flicker of amethyst light crosses her irises as she infuses her lance once more, then, with a righteous warchirp of, "HAVE AT YOU!" the little knight twists in the saddle and thrusts forward anew, puncturing the hardened integument of the abomination to a much more distinct degree than before with her lance.
Even as she yanks the weapon free and tries to little avail to sink it home again, she calls over her shoulder, "Are you alright?" as she moves to cover the Silverscale's withdrawl.
GAME: Jinks rolls 1d100: (23): 23 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d2: (1): 1, "He's slamming Fara this time" GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+13: (17)+13: 30 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d20+13: (10)+13: 23 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+5: (13)+5: 18 GAME: Jinks rolls 2d8+5: (10)+5: 15
The meat-hunk of an overbuilt human is staggering to slouch, the stitched framework of his form showing signs of collapsing. "LIIIIIIIIIFE. MIS'RYYYYYYYYY." The flesh over its face sags, a mask slipping out of place. Both arms swing wildly to batter the albino Lucht where her spider clutches to the cieling-- nearly knocking her from her pearch.
By the time he's done swinging the construct has no face. Just naked, glistening meat and dead eyes.
GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon5+2: (9)+9+2: 20 GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon5+2-5: (19)+9+2+-5: 25 GAME: Paenitia rolls weapon5+2: (14)+9+2: 25 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage5+6: aliased to 1d8+1+6: (3)+1+6: 10 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage5+6: aliased to 1d8+1+6: (8)+1+6: 15 GAME: Paenitia rolls damage5+6: aliased to 1d8+1+6: (2)+1+6: 9 <OOC> Paenitia says, "back to 10,7 so it can't rush the others easily"
"Life is Paen!" Paenitia agrees, stepping back in front of the construct as meat falls off. There's an eyeless flesh mask on the floor. Hers is better. The Smiling Man faces upwards as the Dark Lucht plants herself in the path of the Hunk.
"You!" WHAM "Lie DOWN!" SMACK "NOW!"
Three blows for ugly foes, stinking in the cellar.
<OOC> Aryia says, "rushes back in invisible to 11,6 , taking bonus to attack and damage buff from BoF" <OOC> Aryia says, "and as their standard, "trip" <OOC> Aryia says, "+2 from feat, +2 from flanking, +2 from invis, +2 from BoF, +1 from Bless" GAME: Aryia rolls cmb+2+2+2+2+1: (14)+13+2+2+2+2+1: 36 <OOC> Aryia says, "AoO from vicious stomp" GAME: Aryia uses an AoO! 5 remaining. GAME: Aryia rolls weapon0+2+2+1: (9)+13+2+2+1: 27 GAME: Aryia rolls damage0+2: aliased to 1d10+3+2: (4)+3+2: 9 (magic/silver/cold iron)
A breeze that carries smell of petrichor shoots through the lab, rustling loose papers and cloth as it zips by Paenitia. There is a soft sound of exertion, and the golem's leg all of a sudden snaps in half as materializing out of the air was none other than the mute pugilist.
She gets down on her feet as the construct of flesh slowly topples over, winds up, then spins on her heel in a brisk and deadly five-forty pirouette as all that energy sends and elbow shooting out to the side and caving in the skull of the unfortunate creation.
The pugilist sniffs, glancing to the others and doing an up-nod. And gives a thumbs up with a little smirk.
The construct stills. Not dead, inert. It may have looked alive for a time but there was no life, only artifice. An arcane experiment assembled in a lab.
You're standing in an inch-deep awful, foul-smelling alchemical brew. The rugs are soaked and the earth beneath is turning to mud. In the aftermath of the fight you can hear it again; a clattering from the closet. Snuffling and choking. Then, suddenly, shouting in a language not native to this plane.
GAME: Seyardu casts Prayer. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Seyardu rolls 3d8+8: (10)+8: 18, "27 points of healing"
The shouting sounds like barking, snuffling chortles at first. Then angry, clipped syllables of precise demands. Then, oddly, a pleading melody, lost and forlorn. Begging and frustrated.
You paged Aryia with ‘So, the Celestial sounds odd. Slurred by some form of speech impediment but goes "Whatever happened to Ceriday night? When you dressed up sharp and you felt all right? It don't seem the same since cosmic light came into my life. I thought I was divine..."’
Paenitia approaches the closet and knocks on the frame. She hears words, sounds, understands none of it.
Wait! There was barking. "Ha! Are you a dog? Mad or Otherwise?" She barks back, sounding like a happy pommeranian." <gnoll>
"I am coming in, do not attack or it will go badly for you." She pulls aside the curtain.
Seyardu sighs, and takes the holy symbol back again to place a hand to her sighed, breathing again deeply. "Celestial mother, mend this one's wounds."
She sighs when the magic takes effect, and then looks over to the noise. "Is everyone alright?" She asks, moving to pick up the arcanist society marked containers. "And, there is something still here, yes? Be wary."
The albino Lucht knight speaks a phrase in her native tongue, her eyes glow, and she carefully examines the room.
Aryia's brows pinch and her ears twitch at the sounds and words. Confusion builds in her features, her putting a hand to the side of her head as she wanders over to the Red Knight. She puts a hand on their shoulder. "... it... sounds like someone is singing? Drunkenly? Something about missing someone...?" she gestures, quadruple unsure of it. <Handspeech>
A disembodied head flies madly about the closet, wrapped in black chains at the end of a tether, smashing into shelves and dislodging what few objects haven't already fallen onto the floor. The room is cool, a larder of sorts, but any food stuffs here have long since spoiled.
The face is monstrous; half-goat, half man, wreathed is ratty black hair and five horns. A portion of the hair has been shorn and a horn removed leaving a long incision stitched closed in full view. One eye is full of fiery madness and anger. The other eye-- the one beneath the incision-- is dull and glassy. Its lips droop on that same side of its face.
It seeks escape but is held firm by the leash.
When it notices Paenitia it pulls against the lead her way, the chains digging into its purple-grey flesh. The tether groans but holds. The Lucht can feel that same mad voice in her head now, echoing. The words remain unintelligible.
"There is the flying goat man head on the chain." Paenitia warns, as the thing flaps towards her and pulls up short. "I hear it in my head."
She rolls her shoulder, adjusting her grip on her warhammer, feeling the ichor creeping up her legs, "It may need the knowledgeable look, but I ready to hit it if that the solution."
Aryia reels back as the head flies out of the closet, her eyes wide. Man, her head hurt. What was that singing...?
She looks back to Seyardu, seeing her go for the boxes. "Hey Seyardu, I already got the boxes while you guys are fighting. I hid them outside and covered it with my cloak," she motions towards her, tension filling her frame as she's probably going to have to get back into action. <Handspeech>
Faranmidahn totters in her saddle from that somewhat hurtful beating she'd taken, cloak and hair hanging a good way toward the floor. The infusion of healing magic from the Seer sets her to some ease, and she reaches out to the silverscale with a warm, "Thank you, friend. Is everyone alright?"
Whoop, wait, not, there's a.... what the hell is that??
"Well you are the ugly thing and I do not want the kiss." Paenitia says, adjusting her stance, adjusting her grip. She bobs forward, it bobs forward. It snarls at her and she laughs from behind her grinning mask.
The odd dance is repeated, lean in, lean out. Lash with the warhammer, clip the head and smash it into the wall, then shakes her warhammer.
"That, much mess."
Savaged and battered, the head finally falls with a thump to the ground. It fades and disappears, drawn back to whatever plane from whence it came. The chains clatter into a pile without a head to hold.
GAME: Aryia rolls perception: (4)+22: 26 GAME: Seyardu rolls perception: (17)+5: 22 GAME: Paenitia rolls perception: (15)+4: 19 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls perception: (10)+4: 14
Seyardu stops and looks over at the creature that is revealed. She squints, and steps a bit closer to the others. Though she sighs when it is killed by Paenitia. "A fiend, yes, the best option is to put it down." She agrees once it is done. "If the things are accounted for, we should be alright, yes? Unless we should take a closer look around to make sure things are alright."
She looks to the creature. "And the body, what should be done, you think?"
"The body is probably the many others." The Red Knight observes, "maybe stolen from the graves, or purchase from barbers. The Mourners should be told."
She takes a good look around, she's standing in the gore already, she might as well. Splish, splash, her stomach churns. "The upstairs would close if they know this beneath their food. The upheaving belly I have."
Faranmidahn sighs softly as the... entity is laid low by the other Knight, "Thank you, Sister."
The little knight guides Torrent to skittering over the fallen brute ad she surveys it from the ceiling, probably out of everyone's way, "As much as I would rather incinerate it, myself, Paenitia is right, the servants of Vardama can best separate the... bodies, and lay the unfortunate souls to rest in Her Mercy."
"If it needs to be brought to the Vardama temple, this one has access to the area, with everything going on." Seyardu notes, wiping off her polearm before putting it away. The rest would need a lot more work, however. "I can see about getting a group of mourners here, to transport it. You are right, leaving it here is not best. Though, this one worries about the one who teleported away."
Aryia grimaces as the head is crushed, but she gives a thumbs up to Fara. Her head felt a lot better now. A nod is giving to Paenitia. Made sense, and those were good people to to tell about this. Even if they were tied up with other stuff right now.
She rubs the side of her skull, discombobulated for a spell before shaking her head and scouring the room for anything else.
Finally, the basement apartment is still. It's a soaked and ruined mess, actually, but at least it's quiet. The reagent gift intended for the holy temples has already been recovered but there are a few other things to find.
The two Lucht knights inspect the boxes stacked on the unused stairwell and find all manner of tokens and gifts. Clothing practical and intimate, baubles, and jewelry.
Seyardu finds freshly-disturbed earth in the second closet, beneath the hanging garderner's clothes. A moment's digging reveals a shallow grave and a robed, not-long dead corpse occupying it.
Finally, Aryia locates a bundle of lust letters in the bottom section of the chest-of-drawers. Three different hands write more than a dozen letters on a variety of parchment. All are full of promises, devotions, and pleas. "Touch me, touch me. I want to be dirty," in a flowing Sildanyari script is stacked with "Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me, creature of the night" in a more deliberate, boxy handwriting of trade. The letters also conspire in the providing of materials and offer aid in building the construct. Offers of anything Curielle could possibly want. Surely enough evidence to locate, interrogate, and incarcerate her accomplices.
"I leave you that." Paenitia tells Seyardu, tromping around the room for one last look. She looks up at Faranmidahn, and nods. "It is the pleasure, but now I want to get out of the wet."
"What was that woman, the bat wolf?" She asks, "I have no idea how to chase the teleport. These red letters though, they may be the help."
Faranmidahn reaches down from the ceiling for a hi(lo?) 5 offered to the silent brawler with a glad, "Well struck, Miss Aryia!"
Their discoveries after, fill the little Knight with a veiled sorrow, her expression is still rather formal, though her tone now has a more subdued ring to it than it had previous.
She looks to Paenitia and replies, "A demon of some kind, perhaps... she spoke in my mind as whatever... that was, had."
She edges a little closer to her fellow knight, then, with a few yips and barks relates, "I can perhaps restore your armour with my magic, it may take me a couple of hours, but it would be no trouble." <gnoll>
Thank goodness that Aryia could not read Sildanyari, else her grey face would be crimson as she finds all the letters. She puts it where she found it, seeing as its incriminating evidence.
She returns back to the group, her giving a smile and a thumbs up to Fara, her other hand reaching low to slap the offered hand gently with a soft >smack<.
The mute woman stretches her back out and sighs. "Alright. The lady is kind of fucked up. Lot of shit in here to get people arrested. Let's see if the Watch can actually do their fucking job. Whoever's good at writing should write one of those report things to cover our ass. Shit, I can do it. I stashed the stuff outside," Aryia relays, already agreeing with Pae and moving towards the stairs. <Handspeech>
"I have to take the bath." Paenitia says, "It will be the long walk to one, I do not want to ride Ramirez like this." She holds a foot up, multicoloured oil dripping out of her sabatons. Her fetlocks look atrocious, they'll be matted if she isn't careful.
Someone is going to need a lot of brushing.
"I will help you write it, Aryia." Seyardu suggests. "Or at least, offer some advice. We will all sign it so that there is merit to what is stated. But this one should make sure, the bodies are tended to."
She sighs when she sees the fresh grave. "It seems the creature replaced them, and was hiding here. It is a common occurrence by fiends."
It was a mess, but one that they could deal with for now. But it was certainly not pleasant in the meantime. Seyardu's nose was a blessing and a curse at times.
Faranmidahn, with some light kicks and a couple tugs on the reigns to convey the message through Torrent's shell, manages to turn the arachnid around and guide him along the ceiling to the hallway beyond before taking a spiral down the wall to the floor, proper, "Agreed, then." she concurs and absently returns her lance to it's place, "I know there is a spell called Share Memory, I've used it. I'll see about retrieving a scroll, we can perhaps show someone at the temple what we were dealing with."
Sgt. Schott accepts the news of events below stoically, finally replacing the rifle in its bag on the back of the wheelchair when the mercenaries give the all clear. Squimm and Violet remain on edge but each give their own sigh of relief. Sure, they didn't charge down to help but rearguard can be an important job, too, right?
Surprisingly, the aging Eldanar offers no pushback when he's told the quintet would like to return the recovered supplies themselves. He just polishes the lenses of his glasses and nods his head. He suggests going through the Adventurer's Guild but can understand if you'd like to see them directly to the Society for Progressive Arcanists. He insists you get a receipt; so many different organizations are involved the bureaucracy is bound to be a nightmare.
The Watch will keep the basement apartment cordoned off, collect the evidence described, and see that any conspirators are located and arrested. The sergeant seems an unusually reasonable member of the constabulary. If you ask about his tolerance for mercenaries he'll admit,
"Mein nephew was an adventurer. Gud lad. His mother never wanted the life for him but he did zo many gud deeds. He was taken by Whitefoot." He laments.
"What a guy," Squimm bows his head.
"Makes you cry," Violet adds, frowning.
"Und... I did." Schott admits.
Map
https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=mnyd8wcr7dr"
First Battle
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
22 Mercy 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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22 Paenitia 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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21 Curielle
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10 Aryia 6 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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9 Faranmidahn 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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8 Seyardu 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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Second Battle
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
22 Faranmidahn 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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16 Hunk
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11 Paenitia 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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6 Aryia 6 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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6 Eddie
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==============================================================================
<OOC> Jinks pages Fara everything, "This golem was born at a very young age..."
<OOC> Faranmidahn says, "That's a tender subject"
<OOC> Faranmidahn says, "Would anyone like more?"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "When men were men, women were women, and fuzzy little green things from Alpha Centauri were fuzzy little green things from Alpha centauri, and the universe was on the whole, tax free"
<OOC> Jinks says, "And, yes, if it wasn't painfull obvious. Curielle was Tim Curry/Dr. Frankfurter, Squmm and Violet were Riff-Raff and Magenta, Sgt Schott was Dr. Scott. The Hunk was Rocky. Editopoles was Eddie. And all the silly song references."
<OOC> Aryia says, "thats great"
<OOC> Aryia says, "i love it"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Well have to get Columbia, Brad, and Janet in when we track down Curielle and deal with her shenanigans. :)"