Lost Mine of Phandelver

Ronk keeps dancing left and right as the dullahan keeps blocking him. He doesn't approach any further than when the dullahan initially charged, but keeps feinting along that perimeter, ready to shift his own stance into something more combative at a moments notice.

The dullahan, almost frantic now to keep both interlopers at bay, finally does more than flex and gesture menacingly...Ronks jukes left and right combined with the steady approach and pointed questioning of Garet push the bodyguard to action....the headless brute swings his axe in an overhead chop bringing in right down in front of Ronk, less than an inch from his longest toenail. The weapon smashes into the stage in the bugbear's path and the dullahan briefly lets go of the haft and moves back towards Garet with a meaty hand outstretched which comes to rest flat against the firbolg's chest. Garet could feel the dullahan's fingers - cold a week-old corpse and rough like sandpaper - pressing firmly into his torso.

Though the dullahan had no head or discernable eyes, its other hand stretched out toward Ronk in a gesture that seemed to warn "stay there or else"...

Meanwhile, Rigel easily slipped behind the rear stage curtain, which conveniently covered his path to the other side of the stage (or as far as he would deign to go.)

"W..Where d..did you g..get that f..from?! My f..father! D..did you know h..him?!" Continues Garet. He does not step back despite the could touch of Dullahan

Marcon at this point had started to move closer to the stage, or more accurately towards Garet; both confused and even a touch worried for the Firbolg. He would start to, in any case. But any glaringly obvious moves from the Dullahan that might suggest taking a more lethal swing at his fellows would give pause in step. Because tired as he was, chances did not look good in hindsight of him being able to intercede if it came down to it. Not before the axe tasted blood at least once...

"Uh... Garet? I-I know you're uh... pretty excited 'bout finding possible news on yer pops 'n all. But maybe a different angle of approach would be best?" He suggests.

Ronk curls his toes reflexively as the axe comes down suddenly. He looks down at he feet, at the axe blade, at the dullahan, then back to his feet. He mutters "I could have gotten the axe closer to the feet..." Ronk glares a bit at the dullahan and cracks his knuckles, but does back away a step as he tries to catch the eye of one of the others. If he does,  hewill subtly indicate his ring and mouth the word "Now?"

Once across to the stage left wing, Rigel takes a closer look at the fog machine and explosives making sure to stay as concealed as possible.

Perception or investigation (modifier is the same):13 

The box of explosives were full of fireworks: rockets of various sizes, sparklers, ground-based spinners and others all with fuses protruding from their housings. The box is about three feet square, and is nearly overflowing with items. Rigel judges that it is probably too heavy to lift and carry for him alone.

The fog machine was less of a machine and more of an inverted cone with a fan inside of it, apparently meant to direct fog in a specific area. A tightly sealed metal box accompanying the apparatus was simply labeled "industrial-strength fog" and featured an outflow valve and hose that seemed to connect the box with the cone. A warning etched below the label read "DO NOT OPEN CONTAINER UNLESS EMPTY."

Meanwhile, the dullahan - incapable of answering Garet's pleas for information about his father - stood silently in his attempt to prevent the firbolg and Ronk from pressing further towards Malachai (who was still babbling incoherently to himself...)

"Garet, we need to focus right now okay?" Van asks, turning back to Malachai, "Oi, We're supposed to be talking about me remember?"

Rigel goes to work setting up a distraction of his own. First he removes the lid from the smoke machine then he drapes the edge of a curtain into the fireworks box. He waits apprehensively to see if his hunch that the smoke machine will bellow smoke is correct.  

Rigel struggles to pry open the lid, which was clearly marked with warnings against such activity. Finally, the lid comes off revealing...nothing inside. He waits a beat to see if something happens and sure enough, after a few moments the box begins to spew a dense fog which clings to the floor. Second after second, more and more fog comes pouring forth and soon the entire stage is covered in a blanket of opaque mist nearly a foot thick and quickly rising.

The dullahan shows no reaction, but the floating severed head begins frantically circling Malachai's jar and when that fails to capture the rambling brain's attention, the head flings itself against the heavy glass container, eliciting low rings with each impact. Malachai finally breaks from his mania and becomes once again alert to his surroundings: "What...is...THIS?! I did not call for the fog! Chauncy! CHAUNCY!!! What in the nine hells do you think you're doing?!"

No one in the party knows who "Chauncy" is, but clearly there must be another henchman or stage hand somewhere...unless the brain has gone completely out of his mind...

Rigel trips the firebrand button on his rod of lordly might and ignites the curtain he put in the box before ducking back behind the curtain at the back of the stage. He makes his way back across to the other wing to observe the fall out.

The stage curtains ignite almost immediately, followed shortly by the boxful of pyrotechnics. Sparks of different colors begin to fly, rockets whoosh and whistle as they go screaming into the air before plinking off the top of the tent and explode in showers of sparkles. While the fog had consumed another foot of visibility at the characters' feet, likewise the upper portion of the internal space began to fill with surfury-smelling smoke....

"Oh, you've done this time Chauncy!" screams Malachai before releasing a lightning bolt that goes careening around the room.

(OOC: everyone make a DC 14 DEX saving throw, taking 8d6 lightning damage on a failed save and half damage on a success.)

(Not sure if danger sense would apply or not, what with the fog 'n all preventing him from 'seeing' it coming. But I'll presume not. Take the 1st roll if mistaken)

Dex Save(DC 14): 12.

At first everything felt to be happening too slow; and then suddenly, there's so much going on almost all at once, Marcon can hardly begin to focus his attention on any one thing before there's suddenly lightning shooting through fog. Between frying nerves and blinding pain, the ex-farmhand can't even be certain if he cried out, or merely imagined having done so...

Save:  22

Damage: 12.5

Save: 12

Save 12

Remaining Dexterity saves:
VANZAREN: 18
DULLAHAN: 18
MALACHAI: 15
DEATH'S HEAD: 15
HARLAN: 23

All failed saves will take 27 lightning damage (half damage on a successful save.)

Malachai's lightning bolt streaks around the room, bouncing off the walls, sending everyone dodging for cover. Only Rigel and Harlan are able to avoid it's effects, but luckily no one dies outright from the out-of-control magic.

The bolt knocks Malachai's jar from it's wooden stand, but the dullahan reacts swiftly and catches the container before it can go smashing to the ground. He lowers the jar to the fog-filled floor and quickly resumes his post, guarding the manical brain from the approaching interlopers.

 (Ah, went by classic lightning bolt rules I see)

In the wake of the rather shocking light show, a thoroughly fried Marcon groaned and struggled to find his footing, before finally being able to take in the surroundings with any semblance of truly registering anything beyond the pain. With pain though came alertness, and soon enough the ex-farmhand forced through sheer force of will his hands through the motions of donning his shield. "Aight, that's it! Ronk, if you would for the love Helm bring out yer friend, and then have'm 'dance' with the big guy, that'd be 'preciated." He whispered tersely to the bugbear, then looked sharply to Garet and Van. "'less ya got somethin. 'cause accident or not, I rather not get shocked again without much reason, ya dig?"

Ronk backs off a bit, the smell of burnt clothes and fur wafting off of him after the lightning. He tilts his head a bit to listen to Marcon, but he keeps looking at the dullahan as his grimace grows deeper. "Yeah.... Yeah, ok..." The bugbear brings the ring closer to his face and mutters the command word before pointing behind the dullahan to summon the djinni there. "I uh... I wish you'd keep the headless guy away from us!"

The large sapphire set into the ring on Ronk's finger flashes bright blue and then goes dark...it begins to hum rhythmically for a few seconds, growing rapidly in intensity. The gemstone then begins shooting gouts of heavy azure and lapis-colored smoke, much thicker than the cloud-like fog collecting at the party's feet or the smoke from the erupting fireworks overhead.

"You are...someone.......new..." an ethereal (and noticeably feminine) voice echoes, seemingly from all directions at once. The dark blue vapor swirls and begins to coalesce into a roughly humanoid shape - at least from the waist up - behind the headless guardian. "Are you...my prison-keeper now?" booms the voice, in a forceful but not quite angry tone at no one in particular, though it was assumed by the party that the question was directed at Ronk.

Finally, a beautiful but fearsome-looking female djinni materializes in the space Ronk had indicated. Those with keen hearing could then pick out the sound of metal scraping against the inside of a scabbard over the assault of fireworks above, or rather three scabbards to be exact...