Secrets of Silvermoon
Things have been hectic of late, and in truth with all that's going on in Alexandria it's been hard to focus on the fact that Silvermoon has cut ties with the great city. It was done suddenly and without warning. One day messages were flowing through as they always did, and the next they were gone. No one could teleport there, no one could scry there, nothing. It was as though the great sovereign nation had simply up and vanished except that they were still turning away merchants. Which is how you're all getting there in fact.
This small ever-hopeful merchant's caravan is taking you to Silvermoon in the hopes of trading Alexandrian silk for good elvish wine. The entire trip however they spend talking about how this is the sixteenth such mission they've been on without any success. They /always/ get turned away at the border.
As you make your way through the less familiar forest around Silvermoon a thick fog begins to creep up, begins to slide over the ground and waft through the trees. It's a rather unsettling fog actually, and you can tell just by how thick it is and how high up in the branches it goes that it's not a natural phenomenon but the merchants don't seem to mind it at all. They just keep trucking through.
"...I mean if it's a security issue, I can understand closing the border. But they should at least TELL someone it's a security issue." Mikilos repeats, again. With no new information, the elf has been going over the same arguments for a while now. He might be concerned.
Delilah, for her part, takes advantage of the fact that she's escorting a caravan by riding on one of the caravans. The golden haired sorceress isn't idle though; sitting wherever she can find space to sit, she's busy cleaning her dragonspitter, carefully and thoroughly going over each part. Not quite as thorough a clean as she might do sitting at a table that's not wobbling along behind a horse, but one does what one can. "...Oh good, unnatural fog," she mumbles. "Well... I mean I guess it's not hostile yet?"
The wee, ebony-skinned Gobbo plays a sombre dirge as the mists climb high into the trees. She lays upon the back end of one of the wagons, swinging her feet back and forth off the side. "Fifty-six bottles of grog on the wall, fifty-six bottles of grog. Take one down, smash it on down, fifty-five bottles of grog on the wall. Fifty-five bottles of grog on the walll..."
Merchant caravans are awesome! Rather than riding like a guard, Alaryn has her own wagon -in- the caravan. After all, she is a merchant. She is in a good mood as she drives her wagon along. She is good at playing 'Follow the Leader' this way, and she does her best to be personable and friendly with everyone. It is obvious that she is in a good mood.
Merek has taken his time to put on his loose black attire, which is adjusted about his frame. His cloak about him, hood up, while he makes his way with the group, waving to Acedia as well as any others that he knows. He places palm upon hilt of his longsword, longarm on back, dragonspitter on hip, while he nods, "Speculating won't do us any wonder, we will find what the issue is," he says with a husky drawl as well.
The fog thickens until the road is barely visible. The trees are like great whales on the ocean, rising in and out of the white only to disappear again. Two figures appear out of the fog, one on either side of the road. They're both wearing amour bearing the crest of Silvermoon on it. Their slender frames suggest that they are elves, but they're hard to make out. Together they hold out their hands and stall the caravan where it is. The merchants sigh and one of them clammors out of the wagon to see what the trouble is. "This way is blocked. There's no access to Silvermoon."
The words are spoken first in elvish and then in tradespeach with just a touch less politeness. The merchant looks at the two elves - who even this close are difficult to make out in the fog. "Please sirs. We just want to make trade."
The only reply is a few quiet words. "You'll have to come back some other time merchant. Go back."
Craning her neck to peer forward, Alaryn's wagon is like fourth in line in the convoy, so doesn't exactly have a front row seat here. But either way, she is curious and looks around to the others. "So, what's up?" she asks
Acedia lifts a foot and wiggles her toes at Merek in response to his wave, and then bounces up onto her feet. Her violin is quickly stored in its case, and then the Gobbo is up and scrabbling over the wagon's top. Dropping down beside Alaryn, she whispers, "Should be any time now, iff'n the rumours are right." She listens to the Elf as he demands the caravan turn around.
Delilah puts her pistol back together the rest of the way, and slips it into its holster just as the elves are busy blocking the path and turning the caravan away. She hops down off the cart she was riding on, pausing for a moment to straighten her wide-brimmed hat upon landing. That done, she saunteres her way up to the elvish guards, hands clasped behind her back. "So... why?" she inquires. "Why is Silvermoon closed? Seems awfully weird, don't you think?"
Merek lifts up his gloved hand to wave to the two elves, then he takes a moment to move to them from the cart he is on with the wagons, "We have supplies, we know it is a bit much to ask, but we can even pay for the passage if we need," he says, while he shifts his cloak about him also. <sildanyari>
Mikilos steps foreward, keeping his hands visible, but stepping close enough to be seen. "I am Mikilostravia Abrioudelanarchie Mithralla, Lord of Estranillia, nephew of Lady Maritha Son'Doriel. I would enter my homeland."
GAME: Acedia rolls perception: (17)+9: 26 GAME: Alaryn rolls perception: (16)+9: 25 GAME: Merek rolls perception: (15)+14: 29 GAME: Mikilos rolls perception: (1)+19: 20 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Merek rolls will: (1)+12: 13 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Alaryn rolls will: (11)+2: 13 GAME: Delilah rolls perception: (15)+0: 15 GAME: Acedia rolls will: (4)+4: 8 GAME: Merek rolls will: (8)+12: 20 GAME: Delilah rolls will: (13)+4: 17
The merchant that Alaryn speaks to shrugs his shoulder, but Aceida answers the question after a fashion. The two guards meanwhile look at Delilah with displeasure, one of them shaking his head. "It's not our place to question why. Just to follow orders." There's something there in what he says that makes it sound like he /does/ know; but that he's not telling /you/. Merek's suggestion gets a sneer, or what can best be guessed at through the fog is a sneer. It's not a pleasant expression in any case. "We don't want your /money/."
Then Mikilos steps forward and his introduction causes the two to look at one another. “Lord... Lord Mithralla. We're sorry, but we can't let you through. It's..." The one speaking is hushed by his companion suddenly and he nods, not continuing what he'd been about to say. "You'll have to understand that we're on orders."
"Don't want money?" asks Alaryn. She shakes her head and looks to Acedia, "Everyone wants money. Something is -wrong- with these people." She sighs and shrugs, "Maybe there's someone else we can speak with? Someone in authority? Your bosses?!" she calls out. Someone saying that they don't want money just sounds about like they were saying, 'I want to stab myself in the eye!' to her.
Delilah's pistol snaps up to her hand, and she holds it arm extended, staring down the sighs at one of the guards. "Get back," she snaps to the lead merchant. "Leave your wagon, head for the rear and wait." She pulls back the hammer on her weapon, and her eyes narrow. "And you," she states, eyeing up the guards, "You can go ahead and drop the illusions. I can see through 'em. You're not elves, you're hideous. Drop the illusions or I'll shoot you right between your black eyes."
The Gobbo stands up and peers at the Guards, and then cups her hands to her mouth. "Is it the plague, sir Guard? Has Silvermoon closed her borders to protect herself from the plague? Or... is she protecting the outside world from her own plague?" She gives Delilah a very odd look, and squints at the Guards, then eyes Delilah again, then looks at the Guards. "The plague affects you differently, then."
LORD Mithralla, nephew to the ROYAL house, sighs slowly, and nods. "I understand your position. However, I also understand there is a demon-" and then Delilah's talking. And then there's a blade in Miki's hand, and a glow in his eye. "....yeeees. Something like that." Merek seems to think about it, then he steps forward to the one sneering at him. He then nods a bit, "We came across a few from here, who were ill... We took them in, we assisted all of them, we saw what they went through. Now listen, all this Merchant stuff, don't even worry about it, I come as a Seer of Eluna, to assist Silvermoon. We are worried about the people, now if you think your orders," he then lifts his brow to Delilah, while he steps back also as well.
The guards draw their weapons in an instant, but... also seem to deflate. They look at one another and then they look at Mikilos. "Sir." One of them says the word imploringly to him, but Mikilos' deadly glint in his eyes disways them. "Please do not attack us because of what you see."
With that the illusion falls and you can all see them for what they are. They've mouths like wolves, but just the mouth full of grinning teeth, black eyes on black, on black. So that they look blind somehow. Claws deadly and long mark their hands and yet in spite of all this they /do/ wear the uniform of Silvermoon.
Acedia jumps down from the wagon and runs up to the front. Unarmed. She stops before the two guards and pulls back the lids of one of her eyes... showing off that her own sclera has turned black too. Though the effect is different, since her irises are red, like many Gobbos. "I had the plague. I have been cured. But I bear the same scars, here and there..." She strikes a bit of a defiant pose. "Let us help you. Let us in."
That makes Alaryn stand up in her seat, her Thunderbelcher that she kept by her seat up in her hands, stock pressed to her shoulder. She doesn't fire, but she -is- making it clear that whomever started this up front has backup. Not a word is spoken by her. Merely her actions speaking for her.
"Can we not move right to wishing to assail anything that doesn't look normal?" Merek asks then, while he looks a bit to the woman, then it's back to the two, "As I said, it looks like the ill that is taking to you all isn't doing you well, we've encountered people that required a form of cannibalism because of this, we are here to assist."
Mikilos hair rises, literally, violet arcs sparking between the hairs. But the archmage hesitates. "....I suggest you explain. Quickly."
"They have the plague...", the Gobbo says to Mikilos. "See my eyes? They're like the Guards' eyes."
One of the guards hunches over, actually going to his knees before Mikilos and the weapons drawn against him, but the other steadfastly holds his weapon. "We can't explain. We were elves. We were like /you/, then we began to change as though nature itself was redesigning us. It began months ago, and we thought that we could fix it but our magic... It was as though our magic made us change faster. Now we are as you see us. All of us who live here have changed in some way. We couldn't stop it." The one on his knees is talking too-quickly and the one on his feet is glaring. Defying you all to say it's his fault. "That's why no one is allowed in. Everyone that comes, becomes like us... if not something worse."
Okay. That could explain not wanting money. Alaryn lets the Thunderbelcher waver a bit before she lowers it, making sure the barrel is pointed away from anyone. Mostly at the ground beside the wagon. She watches the others now, brows lifting as she waits to see what folks do and/or say.
Mikilos hesitates another moment, and sighs, putting his blade away as violet sparks float off and fade like butterflies. Shrugging off one shoulder of his pack, the mage reaches his arms into the bag... up to the shoulder... and pulls out a small bottle, shaking it vigorously before tossing it lightly to the kneeling guard. "Drink that. It's not a cure for the Plague, but it is a treatment." he frowns mildly. "It's also very salty and tastes awful, unfortunately I can't fix that. but if you're afflicted by a similar plague to what hit Alexandros, it should help." He frowns. "And if you're lying in some way, it's likely going to end poorly for you."
Delilah frowns, and for a moment the wheels turn in her mind. Then she eases the hammer on her pistol back down, and returns the weapon to its holster. "I'm sorry." She takes a step forwards, and holds her hands up more peacefully. "I saw you under your illusions, and assumed the worst. If it is as you say, then I was wrong." She glances to Merek, and nods once before looking back to the elves. "Look... maybe us coming to your lands is a bad idea, and maybe it isn't, but it's time for you to reach out for help, yes? Prideful isolation isn't going to get you any further than it already has."
Merek seems to think about it a moment, then he looks to Delilah while he nods, then to Acedia also, "They have a point, even if we can not come in, you can share with us what the issue is, we can take it to the proper folk to handle it," he says.
GAME: Merek rolls diplomacy: (6)+16: 22 GAME: Delilah rolls diplomacy: (1)+11: 12 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Mikilos rolls diplomacy: (8)+12: 20
The guard kneeling takes up the bottle gently and rises slowly to his feet. It's odd to watch him talking as he utters a brief word of gratitude. Words should not come from a mouth like that. The other guard seems less impressed with the offering. "You can say whatever you like," says the second, more unyielding guard. "But the decision isn't to be made by us. Those in power have decided that this is a problem we will deal with ourselves and so we will."
He turns slightly and pulls the 'cure' from his companion's grasp and smashes it on the ground. "You can take your half-measures and your empty promises and go." He doesn't seem to notice how heartbroken the act leaves his fellow guard looking.
"If you are following orders, then send a message to summon someone who -gives- you your orders so that we can talk to them." suggests Alaryn. "That way, it's out of your hands, and we still have a chance to do some good and help some folks who need help, regardless of whether -you- are too prideful to accept the help or not. Think of the rest of your people, not your own ego." she adds.
GAME: Merek casts Mending. Caster Level: 5 DC: 13
Merek seems to be bristling a moment, then he's looking to the guard which is treating his fellow like that, "Apologize to him," he then steps up while he speaks to them, while he takes a moment to pick up the material on the grass, so that he can begin to fix it, while he takes a moment to look towards Mikilos, "Do you have any extra?" he asks.
Acedia takes a few desperate steps towards the bottle as it's smashed. "It's not a half measure. WE HAVE A CURE. I AM CURED!" The Gobbo stomps one of her little feet. "You would cast aside offers of help because you want to reinvent the wheel yourself? You will be lost to the plague if you do that. Help us help you. Then help us put an end to the one who is spreading the plague. We have the key to both of these things."
Mikilos frowns, considering a long moment, then spits an arcane phrase, sending a wave of energy at the 'mean' guard. One of three things will happen, and he has no idea which.
GAME: Mikilos casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 12 DC: 21 GAME: Mikilos rolls 1d20+12: (13)+12: 25
Mikilos cast's his spell and as the magic weaves its way into the second guard the man falls to the ground. Immediately he begins to seize there, flopping on the ground like a fish out of water. Black ichor spews from his mouth, begins to bubble up out of his /skin/. The powerful spell works through him causing darkness to seep from his body and the first guard screams. "What did you /DO/?"
The members of the caravan are /done/. They back it the heck up and start to leave you to fend for yourselves. Angry elves are one thing. Strange creatures dressed as elves maybe another. But bubbling ooze coming out of elf-monsters? Nope.
Delilah stares, watching these series of events unfold. With the guard writhing and oozing and screaming, she... takes a step back, and then another one. She casts her gaze at Mikilos, her eyebrows having gone way up. "Yeah..." she inquires, "What... the hell did you do?!"
Well, Alaryn isn't planning to block the other merchants. She sits down and clucks her tongue to her mules, turning her cart to get it out of the way even while her eyes are locked to the guard oozing black sludge. "Hey um. That's not normal. Not even for magic." she says to the others as she wheels about closer in and pulls to a stop basically behind Mikilos.
Mikilos sighs, grabbing from his bag again, a simple jar with bubbles. Soapy water. Always keep a little on hand. "Triggered the Plague's self-defense mechinism. It's highly unplesant, but not fatal. I am sorry, but I had to be sure."
Again the Gobbo moves forward, and looks to the first Guard. "He's cast some sort of magic that attempts to cancel other magic. What you are seeing is the plague, made living creature... a slime. It's INSIDE all those who have the plague, and comes forth when you try to cancel magic. I have puked up one hundred and twenty seven of these thing." At this point, Acedia looks to the others. "Any of you have blunt weapons? We need to bash it to death... and uh, don't get any in your mouth, or on you."
GAME: Merek rolls spellcraft: (10)+15: 25
Merek looks to the guard, while he nods a bit. He notices what the spell actually is, so he does take a moment to watch while that is managed.
GAME: Delilah rolls spellcraft: (15)+8: 23
Garak rides up the road. Extreme rearguard for the caravan? Extreme, -secret- rearguard? No - in reality he had only learned of their trip after they had left, and had been more or less following them and just caught up. Despite the distance from Alexandria those fortunate enough to have access to Serriel's blessing have resources and opportunities when it comes to travelling. Only...they are not always precise. A Wind Walk spell might allow horse and rider to fly across continents in a matter of hours, only to spend half an hour upon landing trying to pick up the caravan's trail. In any case he finally makes his belated arrival.
The ooze forms up around the man on the ground and it's hard to tell if he's alive or dead. Mostly because the ooze is all over him now, wiggling and jiggling. It rears up and without any sort of warning what-so-ever throws itself at Mikilos.
GAME: Garak casts Create Water. Caster Level: 11 DC: 14 GAME: Delilah casts Mage Armor. Caster Level: 4 DC: 16
Garak barely makes out the activity and spurs his horse closer. At the sight of plague ooze trying to engulf Mikilos - not an unfamiliar sight unfortunately - he responds with one of the tried and true tactics. A bucket's worth of water appears in the air above the ooze and falls to splash the part reaching for Mikilos.
Delilah has absolutely no idea what's going on here, except that everything has gone hideously wrong, and now one of the guards is a puddle of angry goop. "Bugger," she curses, taking a step back; then another, and then several. She takes up a position with some of the others between her and the pissed off pudding that used to be a mutant elf. "I..." She shakes her head, clearly indecisive. As she traces a glowing rune in the air, her eyes and brands glow, and then the air briefly shimmers and hardens up around her.
When the slime suddenly lunges at Mikilos, the Gobbo squeaks and moves to hide behind Delilah. She peeks out in time to watch Mikilos react to the angry goo.
Mikilos is not entirely surprised, this has happened before. Keeping his mouth firmly shut, the elf flings the contents of his jar at the goo. Soapy water, a mage's best friend... sometimes.
GAME: Alaryn rolls ranged: (16)+5: 21 GAME: Alaryn rolls 3d6+5: (8)+5: 13 GAME: Merek rolls ranged: (7)+8: 15 GAME: Merek rolls 4d6: (14): 14
Letting her longgun fall onto her seat with the hammer down so it won't go off, Alaryn reaches behind her back and draws a rod from her belt. She presses a stud as it is brought around and it extends to five feet long with crystal capacitors running along the length of it.
They power up and the main hunk of quartz in the head of the 'staff', which is surrounded by -very- conductive materials like wires wrapped around the stuff... it all begins to hum with power as she lines up her shot. Yeah, it actually has gunsights on the thing... And then she activates her weapon and a blast of lightning flares from her weapon and stabs into the ooze.
GAME: Merek casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 4 DC: 16
Merek lifts up a hand while he throws a scorching ray into the ooze, the flames licking about it while it begins to look like it's getting more from it.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14
The ooze does seem to wilt slightly under the unrush of water, but... not as much as Mikilos' previous experiments suggests that it should. Not /nearly/ as much. In fact his little jar does practically nothing to it at all. Meanwhile it reaches out for him, thumping closer so that he can smell it's odd watery oder. It glimmers dangerously at him and wobbles.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (20)+10: 30 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (10)+10: 20 GAME: Garak rolls fortitude+2: (19)+11+2: 32 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d4+3: (1)+3: 4 GAME: Garak casts Freedom of Movement. Caster Level: 11 DC: 18
The Gobbo squeaks and shakes her head. "Nononono! I SAID BLUNT WEAPONS!" She lets out a lengthy huff of breath. "It's going to get bigger..." Acedia sighs even more. She begins to wander about the forest a little, looking for something on the ground.
Garak raises his holy symbol. Everyone in the party may or may not feel the protection of Serriel. Next Garak hurries to reach Mikilos, before the ooze monster can grab him. Getting this close leaves him open to a stinging blow, but he grits his teeth at the pain and chants a spell, one hand on the Sil's shoulder.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+-2: (5)+-2: 3 GAME: Delilah rolls 1d4+2: (2)+2: 4
Delilah takes a step back, observing how things go with everyone else's activities. She also makes a point not to stand near Mikilos (he's being eaten) or trip over the goblin hiding behind her. "I'm not very sturdy, you might want to stand behind someone tougher," she suggests. "Anyway, uhm, bullets and magic both seem to be off the table, so... I actually have no idea what to do here." Delilah rubs her chin, thinking. If only she knew about oozes. If only she'd paid attention in class. "Well, let's experiment." She lifts one hand, finger extended, and draws a glowing line in the air, more or less straight down; and then a bunch of fiery pebble-sized meteors rain down out of the sky and pummel the ooze.
GAME: Mikilos rolls weapon7: (13)+7: 20 GAME: Mikilos rolls damage7: aliased to 1D8+1: (2)+1: 3
"IT. EATS. MAGIC." Mikilos huffs, smacking the ooze with the flat of his blade. Not the most effective, but these things seem custom built to annoy him... and they try to eat his face. Which is annoying.
GAME: Alaryn casts Shield. Caster Level: 5 DC: 15
Snagging a pouch off her belt, Alaryn snaps it open to spread crystalline powder in the air before her. As it starts to fall, she channels mana from her rod into it... the dust flutters and floats into the air before her to form a shield of powdered force out of said mana.
That done, she steps down out of the wagon and starts to stalk forward even as she tucks her rod into her belt and holds up her fists... pressing crystal studs with her thumbs to activate the fields of force that cover both fists.... preparing to go into close combat.
GAME: Merek rolls melee: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25
Merek makes his way to the ooze, while he tries to place a hand into it. It is obvious that it looks to be wiggling away, then it wiggles at him, he wiggles away also. He then looks at the thing, "Come here, don't be coy, I just want to put my hands on you," he says with a husky drawl. This probably looks as weird as that actually is.
GAME: Mikilos rolls fort: (4)+10: 14 GAME: Mikilos rolls fort: (4)+10: 14 GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d4+3: (1)+3: 4
This time when the ooze surges forward it manages to collide with Mikilos. It can't hold him for long; not with Garak's spell in place, but it does leave a slimy trail down his clothes as it withdraws it's tendril.
Mikilos says, "...awh, that's not okay..."
GAME: Garak casts Divine Favor/Quicken. Caster Level: 11 DC: 19 GAME: Garak rolls weapon0+3-3+2: (11)+12+3+-3+2: 25 GAME: Garak rolls weapon0+3-3+2: (7)+12+3+-3+2: 21 GAME: Garak rolls weapon0+3-3+2-5: (15)+12+3+-3+2+-5: 24 GAME: Garak rolls 1d3+4+3+4: (3)+4+3+4: 14 GAME: Garak rolls 1d3+4+3+4: (2)+4+3+4: 13 GAME: Garak rolls 1d3+4+3+4: (1)+4+3+4: 12
Garak raises a hand, then pauses. He shifts into a fighting stance. One foot snaps up in a kick, then even as he's lowering it his other foot scissors up and the other lashes out. He finishes by spinning and thrusting his first foot out in one last kick. "Are you certain that blunt attacks will work?" he asks as he surveys the results of his combo.
GAME: Delilah rolls 1d20+5: (11)+5: 16 GAME: Delilah rolls 1d8: (8): 8
"...I have no idea if that helped or not." The golden haired sorceress slowly draws her pistol from its holster -- the one she just got finished cleaning -- and levels it at the ooze. "I... I have no idea if this will really do anything either," she admits, "But here goes." She pulls back the hammer and fires; there's a loud bang and a cloud of smoke and, hopefully, a less... happy ooze. "You know, we could just butt out and call it even?" she suggests, as she's reloading the weapon.
The Gobbo returns in the midst of battle, letting out an almost adorable roar in doing so. She bears a big stick! Well, it's big to her. And it has been shorn of its leaves and knobby bits thanks to her sharp knife. "MELEE! ATTACKS! PEOPLE!"
GAME: Mikilos rolls weapon7: (8)+7: 15 GAME: Mikilos rolls damage7: aliased to 1D8+1: (7)+1: 8
Mikilos coughs and gags a little, frowning darkly. "This seems a new strain. Not certain of anything." But he gamely smacks it with his sword again. At least it doesn't look to feed off that.
GAME: Alaryn rolls melee+3: (16)+3+3: 22 GAME: Alaryn rolls 1d8+3: (4)+3: 7 GAME: Merek rolls melee: (1)+6: 7 (EPIC FAIL)
The rod in her belt sparks with power as it channels energy from its capacitor into Alaryn's armor. The energy flows up her torso, blue-white power rippling as it channels down her arms and coalesces about the invisible force covering her hands. Then she hauls back and jabs at the ooze to make it ripple before an uppercut rips up into the thing, tearing a bit of the ooze from its body. "That's how we do it." she mutters.
Merek keeps trying to touch the ooze, though looks like it is wiggly.
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+10: (10)+10: 20
Leaving a wet trail of goop behind the ooze turns it's attack on Garak, swinging a tendril at him that just barely misses. There's no clear reason why it switched targets. But then the mind of an ooze is difficult to understand at the best of times.
GAME: Garak rolls weapon0+3-3: (9)+12+3+-3: 21 GAME: Garak rolls weapon0+3-3-5: (3)+12+3+-3+-5: 10 GAME: Garak rolls 1d3+4+3+6: (2)+4+3+6: 15 GAME: Garak rolls 1d3+4+3+6: (1)+4+3+6: 14 GAME: Acedia rolls melee: (12)+3: 15 GAME: Acedia rolls 1d4: (3): 3
Garak drops flat to avoid the tendril. It misses so narrowly that a few loose strands of his otherwise perfectly bound hair swag at the rush of displaced air. Even as he drops he's putting both hands on the ground. Using them and a foot for a stable tripod, one leg lashes out in a low kick. As soon as it connects he withdraws it and then kicks again, his time pushing off with his hands to give his blow that little extra bit of power.
Acedia actually nudges Merek aside, the Gobbo lowering her voice. "Stop tryin' t'touch it! You'll get the plague. You don't wanna be stuck in that dungeon for months." She shrieks then, and raises up her club, and brings it down with a wet thud upon the ooze. "DIE!!"
GAME: Delilah rolls 1d20+2: (9)+2: 11 GAME: Delilah rolls 1d4: (1): 1
Delilah sighs audibly. "Are you *really* certain that only walking up and sticking it manually will work? I mean really? It's metal! Why doesn't shooting it with a metal bullet work?" Delilah honestly can't tell if shooting it was working or not, so... okay, fine, do it someone else's way. She pulls a dagger out of its scabbard with her free hand, and then just marches up to the ooze and slashes at it. She nicks it, just barely, with the tip. ...And then takes a step back. She doesn't want to be eaten by a pudding, afterall. (In Mother Silvermoon, Pudding eat YOU.)
GAME: Mikilos rolls weapon7: (3)+7: 10 GAME: Mikilos rolls damage7: aliased to 1D8+1: (2)+1: 3
Mikilos mutters darkly to himself, and coughs wetly, smacking the ooze yet again.... ONLY TO HAVE THE BLASTED THING BLOW UP ON HIM! ....typical, really. Ew.
Jumping back as the thing explodes, Alaryn lifts her hands up to guard her face. She was told not to swallow any of it, so she uses those force spheres about her fists to block some of the gunk from reaching her face. But when it is all done.. she lowers her hands and turns off the mana flow powering the Titan Fists. "Well, that was awkward." And then she rushes to check on the guard the ooze came out of.
"Yes, lady, smacking it to death with a stick is one of the few ways of killing it. Soapy water being another. MAGICAL ANYTHING MAKES IT BIGGe.." Acedia squeaks as Mikilos makes the ooze explode, and she stands there with streams of the stuff running down her, starting at her hair. "Ewh... Mikilos..."
Merek blinks a bit at the ooze, then he licks that away from his face, wiping it away with his gloved hands also.
Mikilos says, "...that could have gotten better. *cough* Suppose could have gone worse..."
Acedia peers at Mikilos. "You're infected.", she says sadly. "We'll get you to the dungeon, and then I'll find Chay, and we can work on getting you back into the fight." The Gobbo lets out a low breath. "At least we have... figure out what's going on here."
The guard is being tended to by his companion, he doesn't let anyone near his friend, lifting him up into his arms and holding his body away from you all. "I don't know what you did to him, but... don't come any closer. In fact... just go away. I think he might have been right about you after all." He shakes his head like he just doesn't know.
Snorting, Alaryn shakes her head, "Our wizard drove the magic entity infecting him -out- of his body. Where we could destroy it. That is all."
That said, she shrugs and turns to depart. She climbs up into her wagon and offers, "Anyone need a lift? I have some open space in back, and a seat up front."
Garak wipes ooze from his face with his fingertips. Looking at his hands he sighs in resignation. Then he begins sluicing off the gunk from his sleeves and chest. Then he casts his spell to create water again, this time using it to wash off his hands. "Yes," he nods. "It could have hone worse."
Mikilos sighs. "It's a possessive infection. A slime that lives inside your lungs. An anti-magic field will banish it so long as the field remains, but it comes back afterwards."
The Gobbo peers at Mikilos. "I can see why you left, if these two are any indication. We're going to find naught but death if they won't let us help. I can't believe they would be that... dense.”
Delilah shrieks with the ooze explodes; fortunately, she had the prudence to 'raise shields', as it were, so she doesn't get covered in it. She takes a moment to wipe the tip of her dagger on the ground, before holstering both her weapons and backing off to the wagons.
Garak lowers voice until only party can hear him. "Was something wrong with the guards," he adjusts his enchanted monacle. "I thought for a moment, I saw...fangs."
Mikilos shrugs, and waves vaguely. "They're scared, and trying to be protective. But at least I know what I need. The borders are self-closed, and the capital is infected." He sighs. "And I'm mildly confidant this is a new strain of ooze. It seemed resistant to soapy water. I think The Mistress is tinkering with the details."
With that you leave, returning to Alexandria feeling... as you feel. You've learned a lot from this trip, and somehow it doesn't feel like enough. So many questions remain but today will not see the answers.
-End