Allister catches the rapier Nenne throws to him while walking towards the slaad. He grabs the handaxe from his belt, throws it with full force and buries the weapon in the slaad‘s shoulder. He screams „Get your ugly ass over here and die!“
The slaad quickly assesses the battlefield and retreats back to the secret corridor. It's obvious that Boosey is just a thing in its way to a better position. The thing falls over Boosey sinking its teeth into the bard's shoulder (5 piercing damage) and knocking him solidly to the side of the passage with the pommel of its greatsword (12 slashing damage). When these blows don't take the bard down, it tries a straight thrust aimed to run the gnome through, but Boosey has enough wits about him to lay up against the passage wall out of the way of such a deadly attack.
Vaguely aware of the combat space, Nenne stumbles toward the wall to give Glimbul a clean shot (move to H3). Blood and sweat crawls down her face as she maintains concentration on her spell of blessing. She raises her hand to point at the creature and feels her amulet radiate an intense heat.
"I can only do this once!" she calls out to the others. "Give it everything you have!"
A cloud of red dust falls on the slaad as Kelemvor's divine censure takes hold. (Path to the Grave)
Pure anger and fury guide Allister‘s attacks. The slaad is still regaining its footing from the missed attack against Boosey when the flaming rapier pierces its backbone. The crack of vertebrae is heard through the tomb when Allister twists the blade with both hands. The slaad‘s scream of pain is nearly unbearably loud but pure music for Allister. He kicks the fiend off the blade, smashing it into the wall. As it collapses on the floor and tries to grab Allister’s throat he steps aside and pins its arm to the wall. He creature realizes it is doomed, stands straight and smiles evilly at Allister. When it opens its mouth to speak its final words Allister’s cutlass interrupt those words as it pins the slaad‘s jaws with an upward stab together. Allister pulls both blades out simultaneously and the slaad collapses ont he floor like a gray sack of rotten meat. He turns to Nenne, tabs his forehead and says „Always a pleasure, ma‘am.“
Nenne takes a few shaky steps toward the fighter when her legs finally give out from under her and she falls to her knees. Panting from exhaustion and relief, she offers him a bright smile as she rests on the cool floor.
"We missed you," she says. "So glad...you came back to us."
With the Slaad still convulsing on the ground, Boosey stumbles into the cauldron room ashen faced and bleeding. He stumbles his way towards the nearest wall and almost collapses, finding a place against the wall to lean up against.
“Well. That went well!” He says to the world at large. “Give me a minute, and if everyone agrees I will start the process to conjure the hut. We all need it after that.”
Boosey finishes summoning the hut and begins to concentrate on the amulet. He'll figure it out soon enough, but the party notices something about twenty minutes into the rest. A scratching followed by a plop near the heavy door signifies a grotesque occurance. Nearly a dozen crawling, severed hands, varying in size, squeeze through the holes cut into the door and plop down on the floor in Papazotl's chamber. They begin crawling all about the chamber around the opaque dome.
A few of the severed hands leave the same way they came in. Some of them skidder into the recesses of the room, hiding like spiders might and two hop up onto the dome to crawl around on it. An hour later, none of this has changed.
"Well, it seems our company is here to stay," Nenne says quietly, glancing at the nearest hand with a dour expression on her face. She sighs and looks at the fighter and rogue. "I fear we may have to rely upon you to deal with that. The storyteller and I...we gave everything we had. And with the injuries we sustained..." She looks down in shame.
"But it doesn't have to be now," she concludes lamely.
She casts a worried glance at Boosey. "Storyteller...How...are you feeling?"
The gnome, still looking pretty beaten up rubs his face for a moment then looks closely at the back of his hands.
“Weeeeell,” he says in reply to Nenne. “All things considered, I feel better than before. But,” and he rolls up his sleeves in turn and looks at his arms carefully, “there is something a little, odd happening.” He reaches under his shirt to feel his chest. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” he says with a somewhat puzzled look on his face.
Looking towards the hands crawling around outside. “We should leave them be. If they’re still here after the hut drops we can deal with them. It may be prudent to expect something outside this tomb. Be on guard!”
Nenne's sharp eyes catch what Boosey is checking for, and she doesn't react except for a tiny, thoughtful purse of her lips. After a moment, she looks him anew. "That is not precisely what I was referring to," she says. There's a glint of deeper concern in her eyes. They seem to darken from graphite to charcoal. "And I think you know that."
She touches his face gently and opens her mouth as if to say something else. Instead, she gives him a little smile and withdraws. Shooting a pensive glance at Allister, she fishes her prayer book from her pack and attempts to read to distract herself from her suspicions.
By the end of the second hour, the hands have crawled all over the tomb. They don't seem to have any one goal or stay grouped in any fashion. Somewhere in the third hour, something tries and fails to open the door to Papazotl's tomb.
While the hands crawl around the tomb Allister takes out the notebook, rips a page out and starts writing. After several minutes he stops, folds the paper and stashes it deep inside his backpack. „Can you all listen for a moment, please? In case I don’t make it out alive or with my head all messed up, please take the letter I wrote and try to find Gordon and Shamayla Halving in Neverwinter. They will probably live near the docks or where tailors have their shops. Give them the letter and whatever valuables I have. Thank you.“ For a long time he just looks at his hands and hums a song that even Boosey doesn’t know.
Nenne takes in the fighter's request in contemplative silence. Flushes of peach start to intermingle with her Winter's blue, and she moves over to him and places a gentle hand on his necrotic wound so he doesn't have to look at it.
"Gordon and Shamayla?" she repeats. "I won't forget."
She moves her hand to his palm and gives it a little squeeze to try to catch his eye. "Hey," she says softly, so only he can hear. "You came back when we needed you most. You always do. You have a strength of will that even magic cannot destroy. He is dead," she nods toward the slaad. "Don't let him take more than he has. Because we still need you, and not for this." She taps the flametongue mark Eku gave him. Then she lifts two fingers, but instead of poking him in the forehead as she usually does, she pokes him in the heart.
Calming bronzes glitter in her curls as she smiles kindly and steps away. Her countenance strengthens and she surveys the hands and door.
"So," her voice is suddenly businesslike as she addresses the group, "it is time we deal with these unholy pests...and whoever is at the door."
Allister gets up and streches his muscles. „Do you have something sprcial planned for those hands? I gotta admit I have made some bad experiences lately with being touched. Let’s hope they don’t give me more ugly patches of skin.“
Nenne nods at Allister. "I know you have, and that possibility is at the forefront of my mind. Which is why I believe we should take advantage of this dome and attack them at range, stepping out to fire and falling back to safety immediately. I can also try to turn or destroy them by channeling Kelemvor's power, but I am uncertain it will work given their...peculiarities."
Boosey looks up from studying the backs of his hands as Allister speaks, and once the fighter is finished talking, he listens curiously to the song he is humming. The gnome gets up painfully and stretches, before tottering unsteadily towards the fighter. He gives him a weak slap on the back.
"Don't talk like that my friend, who else will teach me that song of your overs an ale or five in the taverns of Neverwinter? You'll be delivering that letter yourself, be sure of it, and together we'll be telling some wild tales and living like kings." He gives the fighter a playful punch in the arm. "Remember, we need each other as witnesses to this place, or nobody will believe a word, so you're going to make it out of here alive, if it kills me." He stops short at what he's just said, and laughs. "Well, maybe not quite that far, but you get the idea. I'll be mightily peeved if I have to tell this tale without you!"
He turns to the others. "Someone should step outside the hut for a moment to see if they react at all."
Allister grins at Booseyˋs and Nenneˋs comments. „You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I haven’t given up. I just take my moment when I remember. That’s how I deal with the things on my mind. I don’t forget, I just decide when to remember them. Now, let’s get out and kick some hands.“
The corners of the eladrin's eyes crinkle in fondness. "Now that sounds like my Allister. Very well," and she unstraps her crossbow from her pack, "let us be swift and canny about this. You, the marksman and I should select a target and fire simultaneously while the storyteller maintains the barrier. If we miss, or if we deal insufficient damage, they will likely converge on us, so we must duck back into the dome. Try to avoid letting them near you in case they can siphon life-force. Pick them off from afar. Does this sound acceptable to you all?"
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Allister catches the rapier Nenne throws to him while walking towards the slaad. He grabs the handaxe from his belt, throws it with full force and buries the weapon in the slaad‘s shoulder. He screams „Get your ugly ass over here and die!“
The slaad quickly assesses the battlefield and retreats back to the secret corridor. It's obvious that Boosey is just a thing in its way to a better position. The thing falls over Boosey sinking its teeth into the bard's shoulder (5 piercing damage) and knocking him solidly to the side of the passage with the pommel of its greatsword (12 slashing damage). When these blows don't take the bard down, it tries a straight thrust aimed to run the gnome through, but Boosey has enough wits about him to lay up against the passage wall out of the way of such a deadly attack.
Vaguely aware of the combat space, Nenne stumbles toward the wall to give Glimbul a clean shot (move to H3). Blood and sweat crawls down her face as she maintains concentration on her spell of blessing. She raises her hand to point at the creature and feels her amulet radiate an intense heat.
"I can only do this once!" she calls out to the others. "Give it everything you have!"
A cloud of red dust falls on the slaad as Kelemvor's divine censure takes hold. (Path to the Grave)
Pure anger and fury guide Allister‘s attacks. The slaad is still regaining its footing from the missed attack against Boosey when the flaming rapier pierces its backbone. The crack of vertebrae is heard through the tomb when Allister twists the blade with both hands. The slaad‘s scream of pain is nearly unbearably loud but pure music for Allister. He kicks the fiend off the blade, smashing it into the wall. As it collapses on the floor and tries to grab Allister’s throat he steps aside and pins its arm to the wall. He creature realizes it is doomed, stands straight and smiles evilly at Allister. When it opens its mouth to speak its final words Allister’s cutlass interrupt those words as it pins the slaad‘s jaws with an upward stab together. Allister pulls both blades out simultaneously and the slaad collapses ont he floor like a gray sack of rotten meat. He turns to Nenne, tabs his forehead and says „Always a pleasure, ma‘am.“
Nenne takes a few shaky steps toward the fighter when her legs finally give out from under her and she falls to her knees. Panting from exhaustion and relief, she offers him a bright smile as she rests on the cool floor.
"We missed you," she says. "So glad...you came back to us."
With the Slaad still convulsing on the ground, Boosey stumbles into the cauldron room ashen faced and bleeding. He stumbles his way towards the nearest wall and almost collapses, finding a place against the wall to lean up against.
“Well. That went well!” He says to the world at large. “Give me a minute, and if everyone agrees I will start the process to conjure the hut. We all need it after that.”
Boosey finishes summoning the hut and begins to concentrate on the amulet. He'll figure it out soon enough, but the party notices something about twenty minutes into the rest. A scratching followed by a plop near the heavy door signifies a grotesque occurance. Nearly a dozen crawling, severed hands, varying in size, squeeze through the holes cut into the door and plop down on the floor in Papazotl's chamber. They begin crawling all about the chamber around the opaque dome.
Nenne watches the hands with a mixture of disgust and exhausted apathy, hoping none look familiar.
A few of the severed hands leave the same way they came in. Some of them skidder into the recesses of the room, hiding like spiders might and two hop up onto the dome to crawl around on it. An hour later, none of this has changed.
"Well, it seems our company is here to stay," Nenne says quietly, glancing at the nearest hand with a dour expression on her face. She sighs and looks at the fighter and rogue. "I fear we may have to rely upon you to deal with that. The storyteller and I...we gave everything we had. And with the injuries we sustained..." She looks down in shame.
"But it doesn't have to be now," she concludes lamely.
She casts a worried glance at Boosey. "Storyteller...How...are you feeling?"
The gnome, still looking pretty beaten up rubs his face for a moment then looks closely at the back of his hands.
“Weeeeell,” he says in reply to Nenne. “All things considered, I feel better than before. But,” and he rolls up his sleeves in turn and looks at his arms carefully, “there is something a little, odd happening.” He reaches under his shirt to feel his chest. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” he says with a somewhat puzzled look on his face.
Looking towards the hands crawling around outside. “We should leave them be. If they’re still here after the hut drops we can deal with them. It may be prudent to expect something outside this tomb. Be on guard!”
Nenne's sharp eyes catch what Boosey is checking for, and she doesn't react except for a tiny, thoughtful purse of her lips. After a moment, she looks him anew. "That is not precisely what I was referring to," she says. There's a glint of deeper concern in her eyes. They seem to darken from graphite to charcoal. "And I think you know that."
She touches his face gently and opens her mouth as if to say something else. Instead, she gives him a little smile and withdraws. Shooting a pensive glance at Allister, she fishes her prayer book from her pack and attempts to read to distract herself from her suspicions.
By the end of the second hour, the hands have crawled all over the tomb. They don't seem to have any one goal or stay grouped in any fashion. Somewhere in the third hour, something tries and fails to open the door to Papazotl's tomb.
While the hands crawl around the tomb Allister takes out the notebook, rips a page out and starts writing. After several minutes he stops, folds the paper and stashes it deep inside his backpack. „Can you all listen for a moment, please? In case I don’t make it out alive or with my head all messed up, please take the letter I wrote and try to find Gordon and Shamayla Halving in Neverwinter. They will probably live near the docks or where tailors have their shops. Give them the letter and whatever valuables I have. Thank you.“ For a long time he just looks at his hands and hums a song that even Boosey doesn’t know.
Nenne takes in the fighter's request in contemplative silence. Flushes of peach start to intermingle with her Winter's blue, and she moves over to him and places a gentle hand on his necrotic wound so he doesn't have to look at it.
"Gordon and Shamayla?" she repeats. "I won't forget."
She moves her hand to his palm and gives it a little squeeze to try to catch his eye. "Hey," she says softly, so only he can hear. "You came back when we needed you most. You always do. You have a strength of will that even magic cannot destroy. He is dead," she nods toward the slaad. "Don't let him take more than he has. Because we still need you, and not for this." She taps the flametongue mark Eku gave him. Then she lifts two fingers, but instead of poking him in the forehead as she usually does, she pokes him in the heart.
Calming bronzes glitter in her curls as she smiles kindly and steps away. Her countenance strengthens and she surveys the hands and door.
"So," her voice is suddenly businesslike as she addresses the group, "it is time we deal with these unholy pests...and whoever is at the door."
Allister gets up and streches his muscles. „Do you have something sprcial planned for those hands? I gotta admit I have made some bad experiences lately with being touched. Let’s hope they don’t give me more ugly patches of skin.“
Nenne nods at Allister. "I know you have, and that possibility is at the forefront of my mind. Which is why I believe we should take advantage of this dome and attack them at range, stepping out to fire and falling back to safety immediately. I can also try to turn or destroy them by channeling Kelemvor's power, but I am uncertain it will work given their...peculiarities."
Boosey looks up from studying the backs of his hands as Allister speaks, and once the fighter is finished talking, he listens curiously to the song he is humming. The gnome gets up painfully and stretches, before tottering unsteadily towards the fighter. He gives him a weak slap on the back.
"Don't talk like that my friend, who else will teach me that song of your overs an ale or five in the taverns of Neverwinter? You'll be delivering that letter yourself, be sure of it, and together we'll be telling some wild tales and living like kings." He gives the fighter a playful punch in the arm. "Remember, we need each other as witnesses to this place, or nobody will believe a word, so you're going to make it out of here alive, if it kills me." He stops short at what he's just said, and laughs. "Well, maybe not quite that far, but you get the idea. I'll be mightily peeved if I have to tell this tale without you!"
He turns to the others. "Someone should step outside the hut for a moment to see if they react at all."
Allister grins at Booseyˋs and Nenneˋs comments. „You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I haven’t given up. I just take my moment when I remember. That’s how I deal with the things on my mind. I don’t forget, I just decide when to remember them. Now, let’s get out and kick some hands.“
The corners of the eladrin's eyes crinkle in fondness. "Now that sounds like my Allister. Very well," and she unstraps her crossbow from her pack, "let us be swift and canny about this. You, the marksman and I should select a target and fire simultaneously while the storyteller maintains the barrier. If we miss, or if we deal insufficient damage, they will likely converge on us, so we must duck back into the dome. Try to avoid letting them near you in case they can siphon life-force. Pick them off from afar. Does this sound acceptable to you all?"