Boyd collapses against the wall; his knife clatters to the floor, magically reappearing in his open hand then clattering to the ground several times before he grabs it and puts it back in his sheathe, but the keys remain in a white-knuckled grip in his other hand the whole time. Slowly, he performs the apotropaic gesture that accompanies the words he murmurs "Procan protect." Slowly he stands up. "Let's not do that again, eh? Thought I was goner there..."
He opens his hand in jerks, as if its natural position was in a death grip around the keys. "Are these magicked? Or was that the... thing... what did that to me?" He points toward the explosion of inky gore coating the south side of the room. "Don't know if I want to know what these open, but I reckon it's what we're after, eh?" He looks to theLord of Autumn for confirmation that the Firbolg still wants to continue his mission down here.
While the group plans what to do and which corridor to take next, Boyd approaches Meresaa. "Thanks for that. For the magic, I mean, or whatever it was what brought me back from the brink. I felt like I was on a sinking ship days from shore." He reaches out his hand to shake the scientist's hand in thanks. The hand bears a deep imprint of the keys and his flesh looks... freezerburnt?
The frenzied flurry of feathers and claws tearing inky blobs to bits whirls, then slows, then stops and staggers, Faila's breath coming in ragged, shallow heaves. Her dilated predator's eyes whip around, settling on each companion in turn, as if making sure that there are no more interlopers, no more threats. And then she starts to shrink, the brilliant feathers squaring out into a patchwork cloak, the scales melding together into dark skin and homely rags.
Faila's dark human eyes look out once more from her face. She blinks once, then twice, the urchin waif looking as though some terrible vision had appeared before her, though there is nothing there. Then she looks at Meresaa, and at Nikita, and then at Boyd. Her lower lip trembles, and she cries out, "STUPID! Stupid! Touching everything! Looking straight into things that will detach your mind and kill you! Touching the water! Stealing keys! Playing with forces you don't understand! You are all going to get yourselves killed! This place will kill all of us, because you are not careful! You think nothing can touch you! You must not, you must NOT be so stupid! Or we will all DIE!" It's the loudest the quiet urchin girl has ever spoken, and her thin body is shaking with anger, her eyes wide like a cornered animal's.
A moment later she is looking down at her own hands, curling her fingers like claws, as if stunned.
Nikita holds her bladesong, humming almost low, beyond hearing, slightly easing the dread of this fell place. Thumbtack glides back to her shoulder.
She gives the grizzled man a relieved smile, only ruined slightly by her livid facial scar. "Yes, I thought we lost you, Boyd. Lady Meresaa healed you, I assume? And the Lord of Autumn took a mighty blow. I have two healing potions left. Is anyone else injured? I am unhurt, but-"
Nikita cuts off, jaw open, as Faila reverts from sauro-avian form into that of an urchin, a furious one, then launches into her tirade. This from the same girl who was so eager to set things ablaze in the fight with the boggles and below the mansion with the animated plants? She is not wrong, though. We must proceed with caution in such a place as this. And it is good to see her speak her mind with confidence, despite her shock at her own shape change.
"You are right, Faila. We must be careful, and we may well perish despite all caution. You are right to blame me for suggesting we steal the keys when we could have followed the strange bird instead. Yet we cannot be frozen by our own fear. Always fearing to take a risk carries its own danger. Timidity alone will not avail us, as you have just shown us yourself with your primal ferocity... Druid. We are not dead yet, nor done cleansing this place."
Nikita's voice is low, but carries an edge. I am done running. She hands Boyd a Potion of Healing and turns to the firbolg.
"My Lord of Autumn. You are wounded. What do you advise? Lady Meresaa, could you tend to him?" Nikita smiles a private, inner smile. "Thumbtack and I will scout the eastern passage where the creature was bound before we interfered."
With that, she pads down the eastern passage to peer into the gloom with the owl, looking around corners, all while remaining in eyeshot of the party.
Though the blow from the Formless Spawn appears grievous, the Lord of Autumn seemed hardly phased by the ordeal. As Faila lands the felling blow upon the creature, he straightens up from his combat stance and rolls his shoulders. A slight gritting of his teeth as he maneuvers his bicep betrays his appearance of otherworldly immunity to pain, though he is quick to mask it with the same warm grin from earlier. He nods towards the battered crew and speaks in a hearty tone, "Well fought."
"Don't know if I want to know what these open, but I reckon it's what we're after, eh?"He looks to the Lord of Autumn for confirmation that the Firbolg still wants to continue his mission down here.
The firbolg gazes upon Boyd and solemnly responds, "There is a chance the bounty sought lay beyond the threshold by which these keys guard. And should this not be true, all have done well to sow our entrenchment amongst these foul halls. Verily, the bounty this company shall claim will be well deserved indeed."
"STUPID! Stupid! Touching everything! ... Or we will all DIE!"
"You are right, Faila. We must be careful, ... We are not dead yet, nor done cleansing this place."
The Lord of Autumn shifts his gaze to Faila and Nikita now, seemingly unsurprised by the shift in appearance for the druid. He clears his throat and starts to speak again in solemn meter, "In sooth, recognize that while change is inevitable, growth is optional."The firbolg takes a moment to let the wisdom sink in before continuing, "Resisting the natural order to bring about change, be it in hesitation of purpose or stagnation of action, is to withhold the opportunity to become that which needs to be present in the here and now. Heed these words."
After another slight pause, the firbolg looks to the remains of the Formless Spawn, "Verily, the cleansing must continue."He regards both Faila and Nikita, takes a deep breath through the nostrils and exhales with a grin, "Care to assist?" The firbolg points his glaive towards the corpse as he holds up his fingers as if ready to snap them once more.
Boyd looks relieved as the creature reverts back into Faila. "Just a bout of bad luck." He says with a reassuring smile - it looks fake, like he doesn't even believe himself. "We'll be more careful moving forward."
He cranes his head as if trying to look for feathers and scales on Faila. "How are you doing? I was worried that was some Faerie curse or something, but you look right as rain now."
He accepts the healing potion with a murmur of thanks from Nikita and takes a sip. Scrunching his face up like he just had a mouthful of the bitterest lemon ever, he plugs his nose and swallows the rest of the potion in one gulp.
"Alright, Lord of Autumn, where to next? Don't forget your promise once we help you out."
As you press forward, a dense mist cloaks the walls and low-lying ceiling, shrouding the passage in mystery. The path stretches on, stretching down into the depths, vanishing from sight. Your elvish ears serve you well, for amidst the gloom, the faint murmur of running water tickles your senses. The dank and mossy aroma lingers, a reminder of the stagnant and repugnant surroundings. You find yourself treading carefully, drawn onward by the allure of the unseen.
Thumbtack's Perception
Ahead of you, soaring through the mist, your loyal companion, Thumbtack, scouts with palpable unease. Even without your psychic link, you sense her nerves. Vivid images flood your mind, revealing a descent of stairs leading deeper into the temple's heart. The owl glides cautiously down the steps, her movements concealed by the shadows.
Your mind's eye is alight with the sight of a glowing brazier, its flickering flames piercing the dense mist. Beyond Thumbtack's position, to the east, a sturdy bridge spans over murky green waters. Passageways veer north and south from her location. The pungent stench assaults your senses, growing stronger as the temple's depths beckon.
Gazing northward through the fog, Thumbtack's vision reveals the all-too-familiar sight of crimson stains, marking a path leading from a lifeless form. Anxiety courses through her, and you feel it like a storm brewing. Determined not to face the darkness alone, she hastens back to you, perching on your shoulder, and hisses into your ear, "Danger awaits ahead!"
While the group plans what to do and which corridor to take next, Boyd approaches Meresaa. "Thanks for that. For the magic, I mean, or whatever it was what brought me back from the brink. I felt like I was on a sinking ship days from shore." He reaches out his hand to shake the scientist's hand in thanks.
Meresaa smiles warmly and pat's Boyd's hand with her other, long-fingered hand. "You gave us quite the scare, Mr. Nilsson. Maybe we could avoid such situations for a while."
Faila's dark human eyes look out once more from her face. She blinks once, then twice, the urchin waif looking as though some terrible vision had appeared before her, though there is nothing there. Then she looks at Meresaa, and at Nikita, and then at Boyd. Her lower lip trembles, and she cries out, "STUPID! Stupid! Touching everything! Looking straight into things that will detach your mind and kill you! Touching the water! Stealing keys! Playing with forces you don't understand! You are all going to get yourselves killed! This place will kill all of us, because you are not careful! You think nothing can touch you! You must not, you must NOT be so stupid! Or we will all DIE!" It's the loudest the quiet urchin girl has ever spoken, and her thin body is shaking with anger, her eyes wide like a cornered animal's.
The Lord of Autumn shifts his gaze to Faila and Nikita now, seemingly unsurprised by the shift in appearance for the druid. He clears his throat and starts to speak again in solemn meter, "In sooth, recognize that while change is inevitable, growth is optional."The firbolg takes a moment to let the wisdom sink in before continuing, "Resisting the natural order to bring about change, be it in hesitation of purpose or stagnation of action, is to withhold the opportunity to become that which needs to be present in the here and now. Heed these words."
Dark blue skin wrinkles slightly as hairless eyebrows raise. "He's quite right, you know." A long, lean hand cups Faila's chin and gently lifts her face to meet the deep, almond-shaped eyes peering down at her somberly. "Whether it's for personal growth or scientific discovery, we must continue forward. To be paralyzed by fear of the unknown is to stagnate, wither, and die. There will always be risk. But without risk, there are few rewards to be found."
She cocks her head to one side and lightly grasps Faila by the shoulders. Taking a short step back to hold her at arms length, she gives the girl a once over and shakes her head in disbelief. "Not a scratch on you after all that... You are truly a remarkable young woman, do you know that?"
"My Lord of Autumn. You are wounded. What do you advise? Lady Meresaa, could you tend to him?" Nikita smiles a private, inner smile.
Meresaa clears her throat softly and shoots a steely glare at Nikita out of the corner of her eye.
"Indeed. How are you feeling, M'Lord? I have healing potions in my pack. Give me just a moment and..." She riffles through her satchel and produces a small bottle filled with silvery liquid. "I'm afraid I've exhausted my own resources for healing until I'm able to recover a bit. But these should carry us through for a bit...assuming we don't have more interactions like this one."
Nikita innocently removes the smile from her own face at Meresaa's glare, but not long before her brow creases in genuine worry at Thumbtack's scouting.
Well done, friend. Stay close, now. I think we must brave the danger.
She and Thumbtack return to the party, and she quietly relays what they have seen and sensed to the east (see spoiler in post 287 above).
"East is where the unfortunate, cursed bird was bound before touching the keys transformed them. The temple goes deeper, and so must we, I think."
Regarding the Lord of Autumn's query about assisting with cleansing the Formless Spawn's remains, Nikita does not know Prestidigitation or any other fire-based cantrip. When they met, she had been concentrating on Flaming Sphere during a prior battle and had regretted not using it to cleanse the upper portion of the temple after the battle was over when the Lord of Autumn used Create Bonfire to cleanse it himself. But at this point, Nikita is concentrating on a different spell and does not wish to expend more of her non-cantrip magic. Instead, she freely uses her Mage Hand cantrip to the extent it is effective to clean away the worst of the mess, while looking to the treasure goblin (Aruum) and firbolg.
"I think you two have better, more reusable magical flames to cleanse the filth than I. As does Faila, I can tell you from experience."
Dark blue skin wrinkles slightly as hairless eyebrows raise. "He's quite right, you know." A long, lean hand cups Faila's chin and gently lifts her face to meet the deep, almond-shaped eyes peering down at her somberly. "Whether it's for personal growth or scientific discovery, we must continue forward. To be paralyzed by fear of the unknown is to stagnate, wither, and die. There will always be risk. But without risk, there are few rewards to be found."
The Firbolg gives an approving nod towards Meresaa, his silence speaking volumes to the wisdom that he undoubtedly seems driven by.
Meresaa clears her throat softly and shoots a steely glare at Nikita out of the corner of her eye.
"Indeed. How are you feeling, M'Lord? I have healing potions in my pack. Give me just a moment and..." She riffles through her satchel and produces a small bottle filled with silvery liquid. "I'm afraid I've exhausted my own resources for healing until I'm able to recover a bit. But these should carry us through for a bit...assuming we don't have more interactions like this one."
The Lord of Autumn beams a hefty smile and takes the tiny vial in his big, meaty paws. Carefully taking the stopper off the top, he raises the vial in a toast and speaks in warm tones, "My thanks to you, Lady Meresaa of Ravnica. Verily, the hearth that you share is profoundly inviting and generous."
Carefully drinking the liquid, the massive figure wastes not a delicate drop of the liquid. Healing Potion: 8
Regarding the Lord of Autumn's query about assisting with cleansing the Formless Spawn's remains, Nikita does not know Prestidigitation or any other fire-based cantrip. When they met, she had been concentrating on Flaming Sphere during a prior battle and had regretted not using it to cleanse the upper portion of the temple after the battle was over when the Lord of Autumn used Create Bonfire to cleanse it himself. But at this point, Nikita is concentrating on a different spell and does not wish to expend more of her non-cantrip magic. Instead, she freely uses her Mage Hand cantrip to the extent it is effective to clean away the worst of the mess, while looking to the treasure goblin (Aruum) and firbolg.
"I think you two have better, more reusable magical flames to cleanse the filth than I. As does Faila, I can tell you from experience."
"Very well,"the Lord of Autumn replies in a respectful manner, "Know that your honesty and forthcoming is very much appreciated by the Autumnal Court, Nikita Tantsora of the Faerie Kingdom of Celene on Oerth."
The firbolg gives a respectful nod to Nikita and turns to Faila with both his gaze and outstretched hand, fingers ready for the snap as his cloak of leaves bristles with excitement at what will follow soon.
Boyd brushes himself off and tries to crack his back - he fell down hard when the formless monster rammed him - but he is unsuccessful. "Well, alright then, let's clear this tar out of here. The bird was going that way ((east)) but it came from here ((west)). Maybe we should check where it came from; there's one less giant killer blob that way and the keys might just as likely fit a door that way."
"True, west where the stricken bird came from may stand us just as good a chance. I did peer down that passageway earlier when I chased the serpentfolk as it fled in that direction. I do not remember seeing anything of note, but the view was hazy and the bird had my attention."
Nikita sighs as her bladesong ends and her steps, though still light, return to normal. Nevertheless, she continues to concentrate on Protection from Evil and Good. If everyone looks amenable to Boyd's westward suggestion, she quietly leads the way, scouting along with Thumbtack.
It is too dangerous here, as you have seen, my friend. Stay on my shoulder, I ask you, and be a second pair of eyes and ears with me.
With wide, gleaming eyes, Aruum has been entranced by the aftermath of the formless spawn's demise for several minutes. However, Nikita's call jars him from his captivation. "Careful, Nikita Golds-trader," he warns in a hushed voice, his trepidation evident. "More evils in this placeses!"
He shuffles towards the repugnant piles of muck and filth left behind by the recent battle, cautiously setting fire to the small patches of pitch, burning them away. "More evil than this lies aheads! Aruum knowses, evils spiritses abides in this placeses!" His body quivers, apprehension flooding his thoughts as he contemplates venturing further into the temple's depths.
Nikita - Can I have stealth checks from yourself and Thumbtack?
Faila blinks her stinging eyes, her gaze still stubborn on Meresaa's. "It's not being paralyzed, to not stick your hand in the fire. Or to run away and climb a tree while a wild animal is trying to eat you. It's doing things smart. It's surviving. You can learn a lot of things without getting maimed for it. We're lucky that Boyd isn't dead, we're lucky that you aren't dead, in a world where the evil isn't even natural, and it's much more dangerous than the world we came from. This isn't like the place where we came from. The rules are different. You have to obey the rules!"
The urchin girl looks down, still upset, but she gives Meresaa a hug before going over to join Aruum, taking a deep breath and concentrating on adding to the fires he lights with her own magic power. It's stronger here. Comes with a thought almost... I have to be careful, I've been trying to be careful, but I must be even more careful.She shakes her head, as if trying to simultaneously remember something and jog a bad memory loose. She remembers the past hour or two as if in a fog. Everything seemed primal, immediate, black and white. There was no discovery, no intrigue, no pondering the mysteries of life or the whys. No questioning. Just perception and reaction along deep-running instincts. It colors her memories strangely. Uncomfortably. Faila doesn't like it. I don't like to be like that. If we survive all this, if Meresaa and Nikita don't get us killed poking at EVIL things, I will try to be better.
NikitaStealth: 14 ThumbtackStealth: 4 (OOC: I'd argue Thumbtack is just sitting on Nikita's shoulder and not moving in her own right, but a 4 is a 4).
((No worries, even scrapping Thumbtack's check and using Nikita's, it would still be too low.))
Nikita's checks:
Nikita's Perception
As you walk westward, the passageway reveals its secrets. To the North lies the path from which the strange key-bearer emerged, extending some 50ft before culminating in a small, barred cell. The air feels suffocating, and the mere sight of the cell sends a shiver down your spine, hinting at the horrors that may have occurred within its confines.
Southward, the passage stretches beyond your vision, seemingly endless. The sight of cells lining the eastern side of the passage raises unsettling questions - Why would a temple harbour a row of holding cells beneath its surface? The walls seem to whisper ancient secrets, and you can't help but feel a sense of foreboding, uncertain of what lies hidden within those dark enclosures.
Thumbtack's Perception
"Movement,"Thumbtack relays telepathically to you. "The second cell to the south harbours a prisoner. Be wary, Nikita, for it seems the creature is trying to conceal itself within the shadows. I have no doubt it's aware of our presence, and its intentions remain shrouded in mystery."
Vivid images flood your mind, revealing a gruesome scene of a lifeless corpse surrounded by pooling blood. It appears that the figure was recently slain, likely by the very entity Thumbtack witnessed. "These might be prisoners, Nikita, but that does not make them our potential allies,"she cautions. "Who can say what horrors unfolded in that dark and forsaken cell?"
As you contemplate the unsettling news, Thumbtack's gaze turns northward. She confirms that the passageway opens up, revealing additional cells. In addition, she notes that the stench emanating from the North is significantly more repugnant than the South.
Nikita pads back to the group and reports what she and Thumbtack have seen and sensed (see spoiler just above).
"You are no doubt right Aruum. More evil lurks here. There are cells north and south, along the eastern wall of the passage, and an vile smell to the cell to the north. Something awful has happened there. A corpse, recently slain in pooling blood... and there is a prisoner still alive in the second cell to the south. Aware of us and hiding, but Thumbtack has her uncertainties about their nature."
She looks to the Lord of Autumn. "The decision should be yours as the rest of us (save Aruum) are interlopers here. Which way first, my lord?"
Boyd smiles warmly at Faila, this time free from any uncertainty. "You're a sharp one. You take to this place like fish to water. Procan... I wish I was back at home in bed..."
Trying to shake off his near death experience, he slaps himself lightly on the cheeks, as if keeping sleep at bay. "Alright, Lord o' Autumn, Point us in the right way." Boyd keeps around the middle of the group, knife in one hand and key clutched tightly in the other.
Faila blinks her stinging eyes, her gaze still stubborn on Meresaa's. "It's not being paralyzed, to not stick your hand in the fire. Or to run away and climb a tree while a wild animal is trying to eat you. It's doing things smart. It's surviving. You can learn a lot of things without getting maimed for it. We're lucky that Boyd isn't dead, we're lucky that you aren't dead, in a world where the evil isn't even natural, and it's much more dangerous than the world we came from. This isn't like the place where we came from. The rules are different. You have to obey the rules!"
The Lord of Autumn raises an eyebrow at the final statement made by the druid, though politely waits until she has finished her embrace with Meresaa before speaking in a respectful tone, carefully metering his speech to sound more instructive rather than belittling,
"The belief that this realm operates on the premise of rules is akin to belief that a fallow field must always return a plentiful harvest: a seemingly valid assumption with dangerous consequences should there be complications unforseen. And yet, Falia from yet another world different from Oerth, know that rules proliferate like weeds amongst the wheat across the Courts and companies in this realm, serving to provide comfort to the young and false assurance to the malleable."
The Lord of Autumn turns to the rest of the party now, drawing forth a query, "Forsooth, does this crew truly believe that these Courts and companies always follow the rules set across sovereigns? Or merely that these entities abide at convenience when respect is of value?" The firbolg pauses to let his rhetorical question sink in, then continues, "Like the wheat, the Lord of Autumn wishes this crew to recognize that self-preservation is harvested when separated from the chaff of rules, as survival comes from the exceptions that rules yield."
"You are no doubt right Aruum. More evil lurks here. There are cells north and south, along the eastern wall of the passage, and an vile smell to the cell to the north. Something awful has happened there. A corpse, recently slain in pooling blood... and there is a prisoner still alive in the second cell to the south. Aware of us and hiding, but Thumbtack has her uncertainties about their nature."
She looks to the Lord of Autumn. "The decision should be yours as the rest of us (save Aruum) are interlopers here. Which way first, my lord?"
Trying to shake off his near death experience, he slaps himself lightly on the cheeks, as if keeping sleep at bay. "Alright, Lord o' Autumn, Point us in the right way." Boyd keeps around the middle of the group, knife in one hand and key clutched tightly in the other.
The firbolg cracks a massive grin at the reports and requests given by Nikita and Boyd. Snapping his fingers, the shapeless corpse bursts into flames from a spontaneous bonfire, further accentuating the deep features on the Lord of Autumn's face. [Create Bonfire]
"Verily, as we discovered from our previous combat, the stagnation permeating throughout these foul-sodden halls still holds the advantage in secrets and subtle dangers throughout. The Lord of Autumn wishes to shift this advantage to favor of this crew through resolving that which can still be impacted by force of change. By seeking out this prisoner that Nikita Tantsora of the Faerie Kingdom of Celene on Oerth speaks of, then information, allegiance, or elimination of another shifting threat may yet be reaped."
Still aglow from the warm glare emanating from the bonfire, the Lord of Autumn hefts his massive glaive back upon his should and begins to proceed to the south.
As you venture south, a sense of trepidation fills the air, accompanied by an overpowering stench that assaults your senses. The dimly lit hallway, with only a few flickering sconces, seems to draw you into an ominous void. Dampness hangs in the air, the walls are covered in a slick sheen of moisture and green mildew, and the stagnant water pools send shivers down your spine.
As before, the oppressive smell of decay and rotting plant life fills the passage, you'd have thought the ancient temple was long abandoned, save for the fact that a short while before you encountered some of its inhabitants. The shadows play wicked games in the flickering candlelight, moving and contorting, seemingly alive with sinister intentions; as though the very walls had eyes.
After some 30ft, an almost imperceptible passage beckons to the east, its darkness a foreboding invitation to the unknown. As with the previous eastward passage, it appears as though it drops down after some distance to a lower level. With each step, the air grows heavier, laden with the weight of unseen dangers lurking just beyond your sight. Your heart races with curiosity and anxiety as you continue deeper into the corrupted temple. It is as though the temple itself is seeking to unnerve you.
Continuing southbound, you reach a wrought iron door with a rusted lock. The ancient metal bears the scars of time, telling a tale of torment and suffering etched upon its surface. It does not look like it has been used for some time; whether or not this is a good sign, you are unaware.
Amidst the eerie silence of the corrupted temple, your ears catch faint echoes of distant sounds. The soft trickle of water resonates through the dark hallway, its rhythmic cadence hinting at hidden streams and further damp passages. Otherwise, you hear no sign of life.
Boyd collapses against the wall; his knife clatters to the floor, magically reappearing in his open hand then clattering to the ground several times before he grabs it and puts it back in his sheathe, but the keys remain in a white-knuckled grip in his other hand the whole time. Slowly, he performs the apotropaic gesture that accompanies the words he murmurs "Procan protect." Slowly he stands up. "Let's not do that again, eh? Thought I was goner there..."
He opens his hand in jerks, as if its natural position was in a death grip around the keys. "Are these magicked? Or was that the... thing... what did that to me?" He points toward the explosion of inky gore coating the south side of the room. "Don't know if I want to know what these open, but I reckon it's what we're after, eh?" He looks to the Lord of Autumn for confirmation that the Firbolg still wants to continue his mission down here.
While the group plans what to do and which corridor to take next, Boyd approaches Meresaa. "Thanks for that. For the magic, I mean, or whatever it was what brought me back from the brink. I felt like I was on a sinking ship days from shore." He reaches out his hand to shake the scientist's hand in thanks. The hand bears a deep imprint of the keys and his flesh looks... freezerburnt?
The frenzied flurry of feathers and claws tearing inky blobs to bits whirls, then slows, then stops and staggers, Faila's breath coming in ragged, shallow heaves. Her dilated predator's eyes whip around, settling on each companion in turn, as if making sure that there are no more interlopers, no more threats. And then she starts to shrink, the brilliant feathers squaring out into a patchwork cloak, the scales melding together into dark skin and homely rags.
Faila's dark human eyes look out once more from her face. She blinks once, then twice, the urchin waif looking as though some terrible vision had appeared before her, though there is nothing there. Then she looks at Meresaa, and at Nikita, and then at Boyd. Her lower lip trembles, and she cries out, "STUPID! Stupid! Touching everything! Looking straight into things that will detach your mind and kill you! Touching the water! Stealing keys! Playing with forces you don't understand! You are all going to get yourselves killed! This place will kill all of us, because you are not careful! You think nothing can touch you! You must not, you must NOT be so stupid! Or we will all DIE!" It's the loudest the quiet urchin girl has ever spoken, and her thin body is shaking with anger, her eyes wide like a cornered animal's.
A moment later she is looking down at her own hands, curling her fingers like claws, as if stunned.
Nikita holds her bladesong, humming almost low, beyond hearing, slightly easing the dread of this fell place. Thumbtack glides back to her shoulder.
She gives the grizzled man a relieved smile, only ruined slightly by her livid facial scar. "Yes, I thought we lost you, Boyd. Lady Meresaa healed you, I assume? And the Lord of Autumn took a mighty blow. I have two healing potions left. Is anyone else injured? I am unhurt, but-"
Nikita cuts off, jaw open, as Faila reverts from sauro-avian form into that of an urchin, a furious one, then launches into her tirade. This from the same girl who was so eager to set things ablaze in the fight with the boggles and below the mansion with the animated plants? She is not wrong, though. We must proceed with caution in such a place as this. And it is good to see her speak her mind with confidence, despite her shock at her own shape change.
"You are right, Faila. We must be careful, and we may well perish despite all caution. You are right to blame me for suggesting we steal the keys when we could have followed the strange bird instead. Yet we cannot be frozen by our own fear. Always fearing to take a risk carries its own danger. Timidity alone will not avail us, as you have just shown us yourself with your primal ferocity... Druid. We are not dead yet, nor done cleansing this place."
Nikita's voice is low, but carries an edge. I am done running. She hands Boyd a Potion of Healing and turns to the firbolg.
"My Lord of Autumn. You are wounded. What do you advise? Lady Meresaa, could you tend to him?" Nikita smiles a private, inner smile. "Thumbtack and I will scout the eastern passage where the creature was bound before we interfered."
With that, she pads down the eastern passage to peer into the gloom with the owl, looking around corners, all while remaining in eyeshot of the party.
Nikita Perception: 24
Thumbtack Perception: 16
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Though the blow from the Formless Spawn appears grievous, the Lord of Autumn seemed hardly phased by the ordeal. As Faila lands the felling blow upon the creature, he straightens up from his combat stance and rolls his shoulders. A slight gritting of his teeth as he maneuvers his bicep betrays his appearance of otherworldly immunity to pain, though he is quick to mask it with the same warm grin from earlier. He nods towards the battered crew and speaks in a hearty tone, "Well fought."
The firbolg gazes upon Boyd and solemnly responds, "There is a chance the bounty sought lay beyond the threshold by which these keys guard. And should this not be true, all have done well to sow our entrenchment amongst these foul halls. Verily, the bounty this company shall claim will be well deserved indeed."
The Lord of Autumn shifts his gaze to Faila and Nikita now, seemingly unsurprised by the shift in appearance for the druid. He clears his throat and starts to speak again in solemn meter, "In sooth, recognize that while change is inevitable, growth is optional." The firbolg takes a moment to let the wisdom sink in before continuing, "Resisting the natural order to bring about change, be it in hesitation of purpose or stagnation of action, is to withhold the opportunity to become that which needs to be present in the here and now. Heed these words."
After another slight pause, the firbolg looks to the remains of the Formless Spawn, "Verily, the cleansing must continue." He regards both Faila and Nikita, takes a deep breath through the nostrils and exhales with a grin, "Care to assist?" The firbolg points his glaive towards the corpse as he holds up his fingers as if ready to snap them once more.
Boyd looks relieved as the creature reverts back into Faila. "Just a bout of bad luck." He says with a reassuring smile - it looks fake, like he doesn't even believe himself. "We'll be more careful moving forward."
He cranes his head as if trying to look for feathers and scales on Faila. "How are you doing? I was worried that was some Faerie curse or something, but you look right as rain now."
He accepts the healing potion with a murmur of thanks from Nikita and takes a sip. Scrunching his face up like he just had a mouthful of the bitterest lemon ever, he plugs his nose and swallows the rest of the potion in one gulp.
"Alright, Lord of Autumn, where to next? Don't forget your promise once we help you out."
Healing Potion 7
Nikita's Checks:
Nikita's Perception
As you press forward, a dense mist cloaks the walls and low-lying ceiling, shrouding the passage in mystery. The path stretches on, stretching down into the depths, vanishing from sight. Your elvish ears serve you well, for amidst the gloom, the faint murmur of running water tickles your senses. The dank and mossy aroma lingers, a reminder of the stagnant and repugnant surroundings. You find yourself treading carefully, drawn onward by the allure of the unseen.
Thumbtack's Perception
Ahead of you, soaring through the mist, your loyal companion, Thumbtack, scouts with palpable unease. Even without your psychic link, you sense her nerves. Vivid images flood your mind, revealing a descent of stairs leading deeper into the temple's heart. The owl glides cautiously down the steps, her movements concealed by the shadows.
Your mind's eye is alight with the sight of a glowing brazier, its flickering flames piercing the dense mist. Beyond Thumbtack's position, to the east, a sturdy bridge spans over murky green waters. Passageways veer north and south from her location. The pungent stench assaults your senses, growing stronger as the temple's depths beckon.
Gazing northward through the fog, Thumbtack's vision reveals the all-too-familiar sight of crimson stains, marking a path leading from a lifeless form. Anxiety courses through her, and you feel it like a storm brewing. Determined not to face the darkness alone, she hastens back to you, perching on your shoulder, and hisses into your ear, "Danger awaits ahead!"
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Meresaa smiles warmly and pat's Boyd's hand with her other, long-fingered hand. "You gave us quite the scare, Mr. Nilsson. Maybe we could avoid such situations for a while."
Dark blue skin wrinkles slightly as hairless eyebrows raise. "He's quite right, you know." A long, lean hand cups Faila's chin and gently lifts her face to meet the deep, almond-shaped eyes peering down at her somberly. "Whether it's for personal growth or scientific discovery, we must continue forward. To be paralyzed by fear of the unknown is to stagnate, wither, and die. There will always be risk. But without risk, there are few rewards to be found."
She cocks her head to one side and lightly grasps Faila by the shoulders. Taking a short step back to hold her at arms length, she gives the girl a once over and shakes her head in disbelief. "Not a scratch on you after all that... You are truly a remarkable young woman, do you know that?"
Meresaa clears her throat softly and shoots a steely glare at Nikita out of the corner of her eye.
"Indeed. How are you feeling, M'Lord? I have healing potions in my pack. Give me just a moment and..." She riffles through her satchel and produces a small bottle filled with silvery liquid. "I'm afraid I've exhausted my own resources for healing until I'm able to recover a bit. But these should carry us through for a bit...assuming we don't have more interactions like this one."
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
Nikita innocently removes the smile from her own face at Meresaa's glare, but not long before her brow creases in genuine worry at Thumbtack's scouting.
Well done, friend. Stay close, now. I think we must brave the danger.
She and Thumbtack return to the party, and she quietly relays what they have seen and sensed to the east (see spoiler in post 287 above).
"East is where the unfortunate, cursed bird was bound before touching the keys transformed them. The temple goes deeper, and so must we, I think."
Regarding the Lord of Autumn's query about assisting with cleansing the Formless Spawn's remains, Nikita does not know Prestidigitation or any other fire-based cantrip. When they met, she had been concentrating on Flaming Sphere during a prior battle and had regretted not using it to cleanse the upper portion of the temple after the battle was over when the Lord of Autumn used Create Bonfire to cleanse it himself. But at this point, Nikita is concentrating on a different spell and does not wish to expend more of her non-cantrip magic. Instead, she freely uses her Mage Hand cantrip to the extent it is effective to clean away the worst of the mess, while looking to the treasure goblin (Aruum) and firbolg.
"I think you two have better, more reusable magical flames to cleanse the filth than I. As does Faila, I can tell you from experience."
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
The Firbolg gives an approving nod towards Meresaa, his silence speaking volumes to the wisdom that he undoubtedly seems driven by.
The Lord of Autumn beams a hefty smile and takes the tiny vial in his big, meaty paws. Carefully taking the stopper off the top, he raises the vial in a toast and speaks in warm tones, "My thanks to you, Lady Meresaa of Ravnica. Verily, the hearth that you share is profoundly inviting and generous."
Carefully drinking the liquid, the massive figure wastes not a delicate drop of the liquid. Healing Potion: 8
"Very well," the Lord of Autumn replies in a respectful manner, "Know that your honesty and forthcoming is very much appreciated by the Autumnal Court, Nikita Tantsora of the Faerie Kingdom of Celene on Oerth."
The firbolg gives a respectful nod to Nikita and turns to Faila with both his gaze and outstretched hand, fingers ready for the snap as his cloak of leaves bristles with excitement at what will follow soon.
Boyd brushes himself off and tries to crack his back - he fell down hard when the formless monster rammed him - but he is unsuccessful. "Well, alright then, let's clear this tar out of here. The bird was going that way ((east)) but it came from here ((west)). Maybe we should check where it came from; there's one less giant killer blob that way and the keys might just as likely fit a door that way."
"True, west where the stricken bird came from may stand us just as good a chance. I did peer down that passageway earlier when I chased the serpentfolk as it fled in that direction. I do not remember seeing anything of note, but the view was hazy and the bird had my attention."
Nikita sighs as her bladesong ends and her steps, though still light, return to normal. Nevertheless, she continues to concentrate on Protection from Evil and Good. If everyone looks amenable to Boyd's westward suggestion, she quietly leads the way, scouting along with Thumbtack.
It is too dangerous here, as you have seen, my friend. Stay on my shoulder, I ask you, and be a second pair of eyes and ears with me.
Nikita Perception: 14
Thumbtack Perception: 21
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Aruum
With wide, gleaming eyes, Aruum has been entranced by the aftermath of the formless spawn's demise for several minutes. However, Nikita's call jars him from his captivation. "Careful, Nikita Golds-trader," he warns in a hushed voice, his trepidation evident. "More evils in this placeses!"
He shuffles towards the repugnant piles of muck and filth left behind by the recent battle, cautiously setting fire to the small patches of pitch, burning them away. "More evil than this lies aheads! Aruum knowses, evils spiritses abides in this placeses!" His body quivers, apprehension flooding his thoughts as he contemplates venturing further into the temple's depths.
Nikita - Can I have stealth checks from yourself and Thumbtack?
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Nikita Stealth: 14
Thumbtack Stealth: 4 (OOC: I'd argue Thumbtack is just sitting on Nikita's shoulder and not moving in her own right, but a 4 is a 4).
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Faila blinks her stinging eyes, her gaze still stubborn on Meresaa's. "It's not being paralyzed, to not stick your hand in the fire. Or to run away and climb a tree while a wild animal is trying to eat you. It's doing things smart. It's surviving. You can learn a lot of things without getting maimed for it. We're lucky that Boyd isn't dead, we're lucky that you aren't dead, in a world where the evil isn't even natural, and it's much more dangerous than the world we came from. This isn't like the place where we came from. The rules are different. You have to obey the rules!"
The urchin girl looks down, still upset, but she gives Meresaa a hug before going over to join Aruum, taking a deep breath and concentrating on adding to the fires he lights with her own magic power. It's stronger here. Comes with a thought almost... I have to be careful, I've been trying to be careful, but I must be even more careful. She shakes her head, as if trying to simultaneously remember something and jog a bad memory loose. She remembers the past hour or two as if in a fog. Everything seemed primal, immediate, black and white. There was no discovery, no intrigue, no pondering the mysteries of life or the whys. No questioning. Just perception and reaction along deep-running instincts. It colors her memories strangely. Uncomfortably. Faila doesn't like it. I don't like to be like that. If we survive all this, if Meresaa and Nikita don't get us killed poking at EVIL things, I will try to be better.
((No worries, even scrapping Thumbtack's check and using Nikita's, it would still be too low.))
Nikita's checks:
Nikita's Perception
As you walk westward, the passageway reveals its secrets. To the North lies the path from which the strange key-bearer emerged, extending some 50ft before culminating in a small, barred cell. The air feels suffocating, and the mere sight of the cell sends a shiver down your spine, hinting at the horrors that may have occurred within its confines.
Southward, the passage stretches beyond your vision, seemingly endless. The sight of cells lining the eastern side of the passage raises unsettling questions - Why would a temple harbour a row of holding cells beneath its surface? The walls seem to whisper ancient secrets, and you can't help but feel a sense of foreboding, uncertain of what lies hidden within those dark enclosures.
Thumbtack's Perception
"Movement," Thumbtack relays telepathically to you. "The second cell to the south harbours a prisoner. Be wary, Nikita, for it seems the creature is trying to conceal itself within the shadows. I have no doubt it's aware of our presence, and its intentions remain shrouded in mystery."
Vivid images flood your mind, revealing a gruesome scene of a lifeless corpse surrounded by pooling blood. It appears that the figure was recently slain, likely by the very entity Thumbtack witnessed. "These might be prisoners, Nikita, but that does not make them our potential allies," she cautions. "Who can say what horrors unfolded in that dark and forsaken cell?"
As you contemplate the unsettling news, Thumbtack's gaze turns northward. She confirms that the passageway opens up, revealing additional cells. In addition, she notes that the stench emanating from the North is significantly more repugnant than the South.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Nikita pads back to the group and reports what she and Thumbtack have seen and sensed (see spoiler just above).
"You are no doubt right Aruum. More evil lurks here. There are cells north and south, along the eastern wall of the passage, and an vile smell to the cell to the north. Something awful has happened there. A corpse, recently slain in pooling blood... and there is a prisoner still alive in the second cell to the south. Aware of us and hiding, but Thumbtack has her uncertainties about their nature."
She looks to the Lord of Autumn. "The decision should be yours as the rest of us (save Aruum) are interlopers here. Which way first, my lord?"
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
Boyd smiles warmly at Faila, this time free from any uncertainty. "You're a sharp one. You take to this place like fish to water. Procan... I wish I was back at home in bed..."
Trying to shake off his near death experience, he slaps himself lightly on the cheeks, as if keeping sleep at bay. "Alright, Lord o' Autumn, Point us in the right way." Boyd keeps around the middle of the group, knife in one hand and key clutched tightly in the other.
The Lord of Autumn raises an eyebrow at the final statement made by the druid, though politely waits until she has finished her embrace with Meresaa before speaking in a respectful tone, carefully metering his speech to sound more instructive rather than belittling,
"The belief that this realm operates on the premise of rules is akin to belief that a fallow field must always return a plentiful harvest: a seemingly valid assumption with dangerous consequences should there be complications unforseen. And yet, Falia from yet another world different from Oerth, know that rules proliferate like weeds amongst the wheat across the Courts and companies in this realm, serving to provide comfort to the young and false assurance to the malleable."
The Lord of Autumn turns to the rest of the party now, drawing forth a query, "Forsooth, does this crew truly believe that these Courts and companies always follow the rules set across sovereigns? Or merely that these entities abide at convenience when respect is of value?" The firbolg pauses to let his rhetorical question sink in, then continues, "Like the wheat, the Lord of Autumn wishes this crew to recognize that self-preservation is harvested when separated from the chaff of rules, as survival comes from the exceptions that rules yield."
The firbolg cracks a massive grin at the reports and requests given by Nikita and Boyd. Snapping his fingers, the shapeless corpse bursts into flames from a spontaneous bonfire, further accentuating the deep features on the Lord of Autumn's face. [Create Bonfire]
"Verily, as we discovered from our previous combat, the stagnation permeating throughout these foul-sodden halls still holds the advantage in secrets and subtle dangers throughout. The Lord of Autumn wishes to shift this advantage to favor of this crew through resolving that which can still be impacted by force of change. By seeking out this prisoner that Nikita Tantsora of the Faerie Kingdom of Celene on Oerth speaks of, then information, allegiance, or elimination of another shifting threat may yet be reaped."
Still aglow from the warm glare emanating from the bonfire, the Lord of Autumn hefts his massive glaive back upon his should and begins to proceed to the south.
Early Evening - Day 1 - Cause and Effect
As you venture south, a sense of trepidation fills the air, accompanied by an overpowering stench that assaults your senses. The dimly lit hallway, with only a few flickering sconces, seems to draw you into an ominous void. Dampness hangs in the air, the walls are covered in a slick sheen of moisture and green mildew, and the stagnant water pools send shivers down your spine.
As before, the oppressive smell of decay and rotting plant life fills the passage, you'd have thought the ancient temple was long abandoned, save for the fact that a short while before you encountered some of its inhabitants. The shadows play wicked games in the flickering candlelight, moving and contorting, seemingly alive with sinister intentions; as though the very walls had eyes.
After some 30ft, an almost imperceptible passage beckons to the east, its darkness a foreboding invitation to the unknown. As with the previous eastward passage, it appears as though it drops down after some distance to a lower level. With each step, the air grows heavier, laden with the weight of unseen dangers lurking just beyond your sight. Your heart races with curiosity and anxiety as you continue deeper into the corrupted temple. It is as though the temple itself is seeking to unnerve you.
Continuing southbound, you reach a wrought iron door with a rusted lock. The ancient metal bears the scars of time, telling a tale of torment and suffering etched upon its surface. It does not look like it has been used for some time; whether or not this is a good sign, you are unaware.
Amidst the eerie silence of the corrupted temple, your ears catch faint echoes of distant sounds. The soft trickle of water resonates through the dark hallway, its rhythmic cadence hinting at hidden streams and further damp passages. Otherwise, you hear no sign of life.
Map:
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)