# Forum > Play-by-Post Games > Ongoing Games (In-Character) >  Out of the Abyss IC

## RandomWombat

It was yesterday that Borthan was dragged through the dark by his captors, to a nearby drow outpost. Though he had been shackled and blindfolded, he could hear the sound of a waterfall, its peaceful white noise drowning out the sound of his crunching footsteps on the gravelly floor of a massive cavern. Through many years as a guide and hunter in the dark, size of a cavern was something Borthan had some sense of, even with sight beyond him.

The creaking of rope and pulleys from above is followed by the drow captors shoving him unceremoniously into some kind of life, which begins to rise. The hand-operated lift leaves him with a swaying sense of weightlessness as it drags him up away from the solid ground below, even as thousands of tons of ground lie above. The snarling grunts of quaggoths doing heavy lifting greets him at the top.

Then two sets of wooden bridges. As he crosses the first, Borthan can feel flecks of water hitting his face, the sound of the waterfall right beside him to his right. A drow blade jabs him in the back to keep him moving.

Into a dank, stinking hole in the wall he is thrown. "You can take off your blindfold now, meat," a voice snarls in unfriendly Elvish, followed by a metal door slamming shut and locking behind him.

Removing the blindfold reveals that Borthan is in a smaller cave. It's damp inside, and some small white bioluminescent mushrooms are growing in the corners, providing roughly as much light as a candle. Behind him is a metal door, with no handle on the inside. A window with three bars is set into the door, and looking outside reveals some of the outpost interior, built into the wall of the large cavern, and the second wooden walkway he was led across.

To his left, beside the door, is a small wooden bucket that stinks of waste. The prisoners' chamberpot. Not that there are any prisoners aside him, yet. The cave is silent and empty, its darkness eerie and enveloping.

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## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating on:

Borthan stepped slowly and purposefully as he was dragged forward. It may have cost him a jab or two with that blade, but it also let him count his paces. _Six... seven... eight.._. He growled in pain when he was poked and almost lost count. When he was shoved into the lift, he then began counting the seconds it took him to rise. One step, one second at a time he was coming up with a half-assed map of this place. Nothing precise enough to count on, but it would help him get back to where he came from if that was the best way out. And he would get out. He'd promised himself when he earned his freedom from Vrek and the Dueregar that he'd never be chained again. He'd get out. Or die trying.

_Thirty five... thirty six... waterfall on the right. Thirty seven, thirty eight, second wooden bridge. One... two... three..._ He hoped that Nilvae had gotten away. He had tried to impress on her how important it was that she keep her distance while he finalized the hand off to the Drow, but he didn't know how seriously she had taken him. Didn't know how seriously she took anything, really. He hadn't know her long, and thought her crazy to want to come down to the Underdark for no sensical reason, but he still hoped she got away. Dying to a hook horror or a cave fisher was a mercy compared to what the Drow were capable of. He should know. He'd delivered people to their tender mercies before.

He should have known something was off. Should have cut and run. The meet up was supposed to be with some members of the Dewunill house guard- flunky males who would do as they were ordered and not ask questions. But for a granddaughter of the House to show up meant one of two things- either the package was a lot more important than he'd realized, or they already had him made. Either way, when you're playing the part of a male drow and a female priestess orders you to kiss her hand, you kiss the damn thing, magical disguise or no. He may never know if Wyrna knew what he was before or after the kiss, but the disguise didn't hold up to her scrutiny. One immobilization spell later and he was tied up, knocked out, and dragged halfway to who knows where to whatever hell pit the Drow had prepared for him. But he would escape. Escape or die.

"You can take off your blindfold now, meat,"

Borthan reached up and removed the blindfold immediately, turning quickly and trying to get a glimpse of his captors before they locked him in. After that, he took in his surroundings silently, using his darkvision to examine every inch of the cave. That done, he pressed his face to the bars and took in everything he could make out from the cell window. Doing his best to commit everything to memory, he eventually went to the back of the cave next to the luminescent fungus, trying to find the driest place to sit that he can. He slid a hand down his inner thigh, checking what he had stashed there. While he was tied but before they'd taken his weapons he'd managed to saw off a small length of the rope they'd bound him with and slipped it down his inner pant leg. Finding it there, he smirked and immediately drew his hand out of his pants. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He took a moment to rub at the bruises their boots and hilts had left on his body before laying down. Tomorrow the work started. Tomorrow he'd be staring out of those bars, taking in every patrol, memorizing every face, and checking to see if there were other prisoners here. Escaping alone seemed unlikely, but he could wait for others. The cell certainly seemed spacious for just one prisoner. If necessary he could wait a long time. But he would get out. He would escape... wouldn't he? *Shut up, Bort. No thinking like that. Now, as punishment, instead of sleep you get to do sit ups till you can't move. Maybe next time you'll think twice before doubting yourself again, idiot.* He chuckled to himself and started doing sit ups, meaning to follow his own order to the letter before he allowed himself to sleep.

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## RandomWombat

*The First Day*

In the split second before his captives leave to their posts, Borthan is able to catch sight of one of them through the barred window. His face stands out, scarred by claw marks and burns, the long hair so often in drow fashion cut short with bald spots here and there left by acid burns. He is clad in the ornate armor of an elite warrior, but his eyes are downcast and brooding, not the arrogant pride of his less stand-out subordinate.

The hours tick on. Keeping track of time in the Underdark is always a tricky business, but the familiar gnaw of hunger does much to alert Borthan to the passage of time and absence of food. So when the smell of something hot and distinctly edible wafts in through the window, it gets his attention.

On the other side of the door is the scarred drow from earlier. His eyes are dull and tired, with deep bags and dark lines under them, as if he has not been trancing as often as he should. Borthan picks out a notable limp in the elf's left leg, and scars running up his left arm. The drow opens a thin slot in the door and slides through a tray, with a single shallow bowl of mushroom gruel in a watery broth.

*The Second Day*

Borthan is woken from sleep - or perhaps the illusion of sleep - by movement. Multiple sets of footsteps against the wood of the bridges. A glance out the window sees a dwarf, restrained with iron chains and lurching as if heavily sedated. No doubt measured doses of drow poison to keep a troublesome prisoner compliant. It's nothing Borthan hasn't seen before.

"Step away from the door, meat," one of the drow spits venomously at Borthan; by the voice, the same one that called him that before. The scarred drow is nowhere to be seen today, a different one taking his place.

To Dworic, everything is a blur. The world swimming around him, his muscles struggling to actuate. The words spoken ahead of him echo and reverberate, as if in a dream.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Dworic is suffering from level 3 Exhaustion, as a result of being dosed with tranquilizers.

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## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating on:


*Day One*

Bort immediately picks up the bowl of mushroom gruel and begins scooping it into his mouth. He'd need every bit of strength to get out of here, and he wasn't about to turn his nose up and food, no matter how unappetizing. Once he completed his meal he slid the small bowl back through the slot. He had no desire to get insects in this hole, and there were advantages to being considered a model prisoner. Then he went back to watching and waiting. For as long as it took.

*Day Two*

Obligingly stepping out of the way of the door, Borthan waits for the dwarf to be shoved inside, ready to put an arm under him and keep him supported. He looked strong. He could use that strength.

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## RandomWombat

*The First Day*

It must come as a surprise to have the bowl returned, and so soon, because it clatters to the stone ground outside. Borthan hears one of the drow calling out, "Go pick it up!"

Moments later, the scarred drow limps his way back with an annoyed expression, plucking the bowl up off of the floor and carrying it away.

*The Second Day*

After Borthan makes room, the drow unlock the door and predictably shove the drugged dwarf in without any care to his condition. The door is swiftly shut behind him and locked again. "Make sure the new meat sobers up. There's work to do tomorrow," the snobby drow sneers through the bars at the two of them, then turns and follows his supervisor away.

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## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating on:

*The Second Day*

Speaking in Undercommon, Borthan throws an arm under the dwarf's and tries to escort him to the best spot in the cave- the driest spot. Not truly dry, but still the spot that Bort favored. C'mon, biggun. Let's get you to where you can rest. Need to get that poison outta your system if yer gonna help get us out of here. Do you even speak Undercommon? Should I try something else? He cleared his throat and spoke in Dwarvish, though his Gray Dwarf accent was distinct. You should rest. You'll need your strength, biggun.

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## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (3) 
Concentrating: -- 

Dworic's head swam; the world seemed to float by as he stumbled and was shoved forward. His mind a thick haze, he felt only confusion and shame - one thing he knew, he wasn't dead and therefore must have been captured alive. This seems confirmed by the constant reverberating rattling of chains with every step.

He hears the evil Drow tongue all around him and feels defeated. The world falls away with a push and someone catches him, propping him up, and he hears the familiar sound of a door being barred. He tries to focus on the person holding him and becomes rapidly confused when seeing those violet eyes staring at him and speaking some dialect of dwarfish. He frowns heavily and tries to speak, the words feel thick like mud. *"Don... sully mah peeple langash wif yor... eevol tong, eebon skeen,"* he says in drugged Undercommon. *"Yoo haf cap... captur... capshuured mee... leaf mee to die nao."* He then feebly struggles away from what must be one of his captors.

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## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating on:

*The Second Day*

Whoah there, biggun. If that poison is affecting your eyes I'll let that one slide, but if you take a good look you'll see my skin is far from ebon. I prefer to think of it as a sensual chocolate, myself. Bort sticks with Undercommon for now. No need to piss his new guest off. Furthermore, you'll notice that I'm on the wrong side of the door to be one of them, with no weapons, no armor, and nothing I can hurt you with short of my bootlaces. Locked in here just like you, and aimin to remedy that soons as can be done. Bort guides the dwarf down to the ground, leaving him on the cold stone. You sleep now. Maybe once you're not more drugged out than a drunk wyvern we can talk more intimately about getting the hell out of here. Dusting off his hands, Borthan returns to the door to check for guard patrols.

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## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (3) 
Concentrating: -- 

The dwarf lies down on the damp stone and feels the cold, hard reassuring stone beneath him while the cavern's ceiling seems to spin above him, bioluminescent fungi drawing swirling patterns in his eyes. He closes his eyes hard, trying to force the world to stop. So hard to think, but the not-drow said something important. He wracks his brain searching for it. *"Foocoos,"* he says under his breath, thinking hard and willing some sort of order to his thoughts, until he had it! Escape! The not-drow wants to get out as well!

He half rolls over, grunting with exertion, then gives up. As much as he tries, the words are still slurred. *"Eef not dwrow den whoo yoo?"*

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## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating on:

Borthan Zuek. Bort answered from his position at the door. He reached up and gripped the bars at the window. Half-Drow, half-human, and neither by any choice of my own. Arrested by the Drow while working a job. I hunt bounties for a living. Sometimes I work for unsavory people. In this case, I was working for the damn Drow. Should have known better. He turned his head and spat on the stone in disgust. So now that that's out of the way who are you, friend?



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

"Borthan Zuek" is Dwarvish (specifically Gray Dwarvish) for "strong shadow".

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## RandomWombat

*The Second Day*

It's surely under an hour before Borthan hears footsteps coming in the direction of their cell again, across the sturdy walkways. This time he sees two prisoners in their grasp, one quite literally. A pair of deep gnomes, one unconscious and being carried under one arm by a drow elite, the other led along by the manacles with a blindfold over her eyes.

The same old song and dance, with the drow barking orders to get out of the way. With the door clear, the drow unceremoniously chucks the unconscious gnome inside. When the other one hears the fall, she tugs against her captor and tries to run inside. The drow holding her manacles holds her back with a smug grin, just long enough for her to yank her own arms at an uncomfortable angle trying to pull away, then lets go so she falls forward onto her face.

With a sour laugh, the drow kicks the door shut behind her and locks it.

"Turvy?" the gnome rips off her blindfold and crawls over to the other one. He received a nasty scratch on his shoulder that bleeds through his ragged clothing, but thankfully has not cracked his head on the stones.

The two gnomes look eerily similar, with tall foreheads and thin receding hair lines - which is already more hair on their heads than most deep gnomes can claim. The female twin's hair hangs behind her in two shaggy ponytails, while the mail sports thick mutton chops and a thin beard.

*The Third Day*

It's been days of travel with the priestess and her hunters dragging Faedryl behind. Along the way they'd found more prey; a deep gnome with a large, bulbous nose and a simple silver earring. The little interloper had the gall to challenge the priestess to a round of cards to decide to fate of her prisoner, and for his troubles was clapped in irons. But his mood doesn't seem to have diminished at all.

After reaching a certain point, the two of them were outfitted with blindfolds. "Attempt to remove them, and you will be dosed with poison and duly punished once we arrive," the priestess tells them with a contemptuous voice.

*"Ooh, you gonna use whips? My girlfriend always said no to that!"* the gnome quips, and falls forward with an "oof" when one of the male drow kicks him in the back of the head.

"You have my permission to remove his tongue if he does not shut up," the priestess tells her subordinate, without even looking back. That one gets the gnome to silence himself, at least.

Faedryl can hear the sound of a waterfall ahead. The two prisoners are loaded into some kind of lift, and pulled up towards the ceiling of the cavern. When they arrive, they are guided off and past two quaggoth - Faedryl recognizes their presence by the grunting noises and the smell.


The prisoners' morning meal of gruel is interrupted by the sound of more arrivals. To their surprise, a drow priestess is personally escorting another female drow, and a third svirfneblin, both blindfolded. "Back," the priestess orders imperiously.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

After one day, Dworic's Exhaustion reduces to 2.


*Meanwhile...*

Nilvae finds herself in a sticky predicament. After taking off from the deal-turned-sour that had Borthan captured by the drow, she wound up lost in the tunnels with only her animals for company. It took a couple days for the drow to track her down, with a pair of giant spiders of their own.

Now, Nilvae is hanging from the wall in a web cocoon, as the drow make camp in an alcove below. Muttley is cocooned next to her and whining, while the drow seem to have taken a liking to Mister Spide and are treating him to a feast of fresh lizard carcass. The two spiders belonging to the drow stalk around Nilvae on the wall, and one of them is eyeing Muttley hungrily.

She can hear the drow below talking about butchering the mutt now, before its whining brings unwanted attention on the trip back.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Nilvae is Restrained. She can still attempt to perform spells with somatic components, as her hands are not completely immobile inside the cocoon.

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## Amnestic

Faedryl had limited options on where to focus her attention while blindfolded, so she focuses on what she does have - taste, probably not so important here (nothing she could smell she wanted anywhere near her mouth), but touch, sound and smell moreso. She tried counting how many steps it had been since they were blindfolded, how many steps since it felt like they'd entered...a camp? No, an outpost, given the lift. That alone was too much infrastructure for just a camp but there wasn't enough of a 'drow' smell for it to be a town or city. They were taking their sweet time bringing her back to Mother Dearest, not that Faedryl was complaining about that. Every opportunity to make an opportunity to escape. This thought trail made her lose all grasp of how many steps they'd taken. So much for that at least. It didn't help that every step sent shooting pains up her legs. Hopefully she'd be able to get a good view once her blindfold was removed. 

The stench of mediocrity wafted from the gnome that had ended up alongside her. She'd seen their kind before - not gnomes (well, yes, gnomes, but that's not what she's thinking). Incompetents so in love with the sound of their own voice and imagined immunity to threats. If she could stomach the conversation without tearing out his throat (or her own ears) he might serve as a worthy distraction. Her people loved to kill the noisy ones fir...wait, were they her people anymore? They had to be, that was the whole point of everything she'd done, but a creeping worm of doubt slithers into her stomach as she hears her captor yell at...someone. Other captives, presumably, from the tone. Just how many had they gathered? How many soldiers would they bring right to her before this was over?

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## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (3) 
Concentrating: -- 

Dworic's face involuntarily twists itself in discomfort as he focuses on Bort's words, and he silently curses the poison clouding his eyes and ears.

He digs deep and the confusion falls away from his eyes momentarily; with a great heave and a deep rumbling growl, Dworic props himself up and sits with his back against the wall, corded muscles straining. His deeply furrowed brow and piercing eyes look directly at Bort as he manages halting, but no longer slurred words in Dwarfish. *"Dwo ri c  Urg rims o n  of Cla n  Azr i l th ra g. At  yo ur  se r vic e  a n d  y o u r  C  l  a  n'    s..."* the words trail away as the dwarf finally falls unconscious.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Gonna have Dworic use one Rage to sit up and introduce himself, then it ends early since no attacks and he keels over.

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## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

You're probably wondering how I got here. Nilvae relays to a close-by sleeping bat, fully aware Puck's magic was inaccessible to her and thus the beast could not understand a word she said. It all started the day I met this wily dark-skinned guy. Seemed to have a knack with animals. Seemed to have his head screwed on tight. Not endlessly talking to townspeople like Lambert. Not accusatory like Mayor Abbott. A proper nature-y guy. A bit tamer than Groteg and his pack of dogs, but hey. Muttley down there is one of his too. You would not realize by his meek frame. But the good boy has often defended me from loneliness. Her voice becomes bitter, and she shuts up as the drow takes notice of her prattling. They were ever vigilant, they feared nature and the beasts around them. They said talking is a sure-fire way to get killed. And the spider lovers are not fond of her magic either. How happy they would be if they could talk to their precious spiders. Gleeful even.

She paused. Borthan taught her a bit of the tongue of the Underdark, and the Drow language was too similar to Elvish that she could not avoid to notice the plans to feed the spiders. Muttley seemed to notice too. The dog was scared of them, but what scared him more was the dark caves and the thought of abandoning his pack mates. Mr Spide the Giant Spider that occasionally turned into Doctor Donk, a huge mule. One of Puck's favorite tricks. 

Mr Spide has claimed the mutt for himself. She nudges her head towards the drow spiders. These two should not challenge his emergency rations, or I could see a fight breaking out. I think your masters would not like to see a spider injured, let alone three. Nilvae says with honest concern in her voice, even if the initial scenario was entirely fabricated. The spider-mule's dietary were a mixed bag at best, and she had seen the spider form munching on hay before, unsure if this was out of habit or provided nutrition. The elf bastard half expected to wake up some day with a donkey munching on some freshly killed medium critter, and she was sure, that was the more intimidating sight.

*Spoiler*
Show

Deception to bring them from eating Muttley (1d20+5)[*14*]

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## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating on:

*The Second Day*

This time Borthan doesn't have to be told to get out of the way. By the time the Drow have arrived at the cell door he is a few feet away, leaning against the cave wall to make room for new arrivals. He is surprised, however, when the first one in is an unconscious gnome being tossed like a sack of grain. He takes a sharp step forward, but when he sees another gnome get manhandled into the cell he slides back against the wall and waits for the door to shut. He ponders waking Dworic, but decides that the dwarf needs his rest. Once the door is shut he counts to ten before moving forward to help the gnomes. Speaking in their language, he says Names Borthan Zuek. The biggun lump is Dworic. Ripping off a piece of his shirt, he attempts to make a makeshift bandage for the male gnome's scratch. He'd never been trained in medicine, but he'd always managed just fine with his own wounds. We're all getting out of here. Just gonna take time. Can you be patient, play it safe, and plan with us to make that happen?

*The Third Day*

Borthan leaned down and shook Dworic when the food arrived. Speaking in Undercommon, he tried to be gentle yet firm in his insistence the dwarf wake up. Food, biggun. It ain't tasty but it gets worse if you let it get cold. He personally serves the dwarf and the two gnomes their bowls, saving his own gruel for last. Then he gets up to resume his position at the door and return the bowls, only to hear the telltale creaking of the wooden walkway. He rushes forward, then immediately withdraws to his position a few feet from the door with a high whistle. _Drow priestess... this one's important for some reason, with an escort like that._ he thinks.

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## RandomWombat

*The Second Day*

The female gnome lifts up the wounded one and moves him to a dryer spot, as the drow make their way elsewhere. When Borthan approaches, she looks up at him fiercely. There is a look in her eyes like a cornered rat, wild and dangerous. But when he tears off some fabric to use as a bandage, some of her tension seeps out. "Never heard any tallfolk call a dwarf a 'biggun'," she points out, flicking her eyes over to the sleeping dwarf.

His piece of cloth stops the worst of the leaking blood. The cut is not as bad as it looks, not very deep by Borthan's estimate. The gnome chews at her lip uncertainly at his suggestion. "I see. Hm." She thinks it over, with some small hesitation. "Alright. Our names are Topsy and Turvy. I know," she cuts off any attempts to make a joke about it with a wave of her hand. "We're twins. Turvy was drugged by the spider ears. Do you know how long this lasts?"

*The Third Day*

By the new day, the second gnome is groggily beginning to stir. Turvy remains quiet and avoids looking at the other prisoners, but accepts the gruel offered and tiredly begins to eat. Topsy devours her bowl ravenously.


Once the door area is clear, the priestess opens the door and ushers her prisoners inside. "Inside, blindfolds off, no trouble," she instructs, in a cold no-nonsense voice, sticking her nose up at the prisoners marched past her. The guard with her shuts the door and locks it. "Prepare the first work shift," she orders him. She spares them no more words, and turns to stride out of sight.

The guard outside looks the prisoners over through the window. "Muttmeat, ale breath, and Tweedle Dee." He points his finger at Borthan, Dworic, and Topsy. "Congratulations, you've got a job. Get up. Line up single file."

Topsy gets up, walking over and passing by the newcomers. The new deep gnome whistles and waggles his brows at her, getting less than no response. *"Friendly bunch,"* he says with a smirk, walking deeper into the room and stretching out his arms. *"What about the rest of you? Do we get at least a hello?"*

There is no response from Turvy, who sleepily slurps down more mushroom gruel and avoids everyone's gaze.

*Meanwhile...*

Beneath her silken perch, two of the squad of six drow look up at her, as if staring at a dog that started to talk - and oh the irony. "Emergency rations, you say?" He turns and grins at Mister Spide. "Feeling hungry, boy?" He points up at the two cocoons.

To Nilvae's sight, a certain little detail sets her spider apart from all the others. Apart from its sleek black carapace, in contrast to the purple shells of the Lolth-touched spiders of the drow, a tophat and monocle floats above and upon its face. As if sketched onto reality by a child's hand in colored pens; but in truth sketched onto Nilvae's vision by a certain puckish fey.

Mister Spide crawls partway up the wall to regard Nilvae and Muttley. After a cursory examination, Nilvae can almost hear its sinister drawl declaring a lack of interest, and the spider crawls back down to settle near the campfire and enjoy the warmth. "Fine," the drow relents, getting up. He switches into using a silent sign language, which two other members of the squad return as they fall in behind him and they venture out of the camp.

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## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating on:

*The Second Day*

Depends on how much they dosed him. He should be awake by tomorrow, but he could be groggy for days. Lucky little guy coulda been killed if they used too much. I say lucky, but... He uses both hands to gesture at their surroundings as though that makes his point.

*The Third Day*

Borthan smirks at the new gnome and gives him a Hello. in Gnomish. Then he stretches and says something in Gnomish and then repeats himself in Dwarvish. Watch your words around the new female Drow. Could be a spy. We'll need to vet her first. Then he moves to get in line. When he passes by the apparent prisoner female Drow he gives a slight bow of his head and simply utters Ma'am. in Elvish. He'd been around enough Drow to know that buttering up the females was almost as dangerous as disrespecting them. Simple courtesy was the tool for today. Besides, there was always time for disrespect later... assuming he wasn't killed.

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## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2) 
Concentrating: -- 

The dwarf wakes up to Bort's shaking and a splitting headache - though also to a clearer head. He yawns and immediately rubs his temples at the ensuing pounding in his head. Taking the bowl of gruel, he nod in thanks to Bort but remains silent, slowly eating his food and taking stock of the new cellmates. He wonders at the half-drow and his duergar name but says nothing.

As the guard announces the new work party, Dworic stands uneasily but under his own power, and walks dejectedly forward. His posture is defeated but his eyes show nothing but hatred.

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## Amnestic

Faedryl removes the blindfold with as much elegance as she can muster to view her new...accommodations. She almost preferred the wilds of the underdark. Well, hopefully she wouldn't be staying long. Her crimson eyes slide to the one addressing her. _Thinblood._ Probably the result of some female's tryst with a slave that blossomed into 'true love' or some such rubbish. She'd read such novels before, and found their premise (and often execution) lacking, but the market for them continued, both above and below, it seemed. In another life she'd have had him whipped for speaking before being addressed. But perhaps his failure to show complete deference would be an asset in this place, at this time.

She nods at the man, the most base acknowledgement possible, standing aside to allow the 'work group' to assemble. She liked the look in the dwarf's eyes at least. The gnome staying silent was a welcome blessing, even though the one she'd been forced to travel with talked enough for the both of them. And now she was going to be left alone with two of them as those she judged as potentially useful were being lead away instead. There was nothing to be done, for now. Perhaps they would return. Or perhaps they lacked any true power and would die instead. She moves inside sits up against a wall, her feet immediately changing their ache from 'constant' to 'recovering, and constant'. Faedryl opens her hand in her lap, trying to feel the pulse of magic but finds it blocked short every time she tries to finish even the most basic of spell. Not unexpected, all things considered. They knew who she was and what she was capable of. Blocking her spellcasting was the first thing they should've done.

Once the work group has left and they're left in the quiet of the dark she takes a deep breath, already quietly cursing herself for having to deal with gnomes like this. After a moment to compose herself she speaks, in immaculate undercommon, addressing both the remaining cave occupants in a quiet voice. It's a polite a tone as she can muster, which still isn't very polite in the grand scheme of things. "I presume you are not satisfied to remain captive. Detail your skills, if you have any, so that we I might begin preparing a plan of escape."

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Third Day, Work Group*

The three are led by the drow officer around the corner to their right, where they are met with the distinct stench of an animal pen. The initial assumption isn't far off when they are led through a door not dissimilar to their own, into a quaggoth den. The floor is littered with broken and picked clean bones, humanoid and animal alike, and two of the savage creatures are squatting against the wall watching them enter.

The drow picks up a pair of pickaxes from the wall, holding them out to Borthan and Topsy. "We are expanding the quaggoth quarters. Your job is to dig out the back wall. The dwarf resisted too much when he as being brought in, so as punishment he will have to use his hands," the drow instructs with a smug smirk. "You will expand the _entire_ back wall by at least five feet before your work shift has ended. Fail to meet expectations, or cause any trouble, and _all_ prisoners will receive reduced rations. And they will know exactly who failed to contribute." He folds his hands behind him, apparently not planning on unshackling their hands for this exercise.

"Well? Chop chop," he says. Then aside to the quaggoth, he adds, "No killing them. But if anyone slacks off, you can use them as a chew toy." Turning on his heel, the drow leaves and shuts the door, leaving them inside the room, dimly lit by the same fungi as their own cell.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

All three must make Athletics checks to make progress on the back wall.
Dworic's Exhaustion gives him disadvantage, and working without a tool will deny him Proficiency.

A character may overexert themselves to gain Advantage on their check, at the cost of one level of Exhaustion on the next day.


*The Third Day, Cell*

*"Well I'm glad you asked,"* the unnaturally cheerful gnome responds, smoothly lowering himself into a seated position without touching the wall or using his hands. He begins idly picking at his sleeve, tugging out playing cards one by one. *"Aimless drifter, professional gambler, and occasional street magician. Jimjar, at your service!"* The last card flicks out and he spreads a full deck of playing cards into a fan in his hand, waving it at his face coquettishly as he takes an over exaggerated sitting bow.

*Spoiler: Insight DC 12*
Show

The playful gleam in Jimjar's eye is entirely uncharacteristic of a deep gnome, his kind usually dour and serious. And for all his apparent bumbling, he appears to have slipped an entire deck of cards up his sleeve without any of his captors - or Faedryl - noticing.


The other gnome is almost comically opposite his counterpart across the room. He's still sipping at a spoonful from a half-full bowl of mushroom broth gruel (an unpleasant reminder that Faedryl has not eaten yet today). Most irritatingly, he displays a habit of mumbling into his food and his lap rather than speaking properly.

*Spoiler: Perception DC 12*
Show

The gnome mutters in Undercommon, "I know a little magic."


*The Fourth Day*

*Spoiler: Borthan*
Show

The ranger finds himself tracking his quarry through the night. The light of the moon above gives his keen eyes all the light they need to follow the tacks. A wily little deep gnome, by the moniker of Pudding King. Just ahead, a simmering and popping sound past the bushes. Borthan steps through and feels the ground turn soft and spongy.

Ahead, a gnome in a jagged crown sits atop a throne of bleached bones, laughing at Borthan. All around him in the clearing, the ground is a vile, bubbling tar-like substance that stinks of burning rubber and chemical smoke. The gnome's withered, grey face begins to melt into a featureless grey sludge as he laughs, a gurgling, gagging sound. Borthan can feel himself sinking down.

His gaze drops. Blazing yellow orbs begin to open all throughout the clearing, as black tendrils reach up around his legs. A burning sensation... and his leg begins to melt, dissolving into grey ooze beneath him as he opens his mouth to scream. No sound comes out. Only a surging torrent of tasteless sludge.


All is not well. After a night of fitful, restless sleep, Borthan wakes with a start and feels his stomach suddenly turn, an urge to vomit welling up inside of him. He feels as if he has not slept at all.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Borthan recovers no Exhaustion from his sleep on the night of the third day.

He must also make a DC 10 Sanity save. On a failure, he vomits and suffers another level of Exhaustion.

----------


## Amnestic

*Third Day, Cell*

"And already I am regretting asking." Faedryl drones at the gnome's show of 'talent', though she manages to hold back any worse comment, instead doing her best at compliments. Perhaps a worse punishment than anything her Mother had done to her. "But being quick your hands will probably serve well, maybe concealing tools or nabbing keys." It's praise drenched in _maybes_, and thus not really praise at all. But maybe the talkative gnome wouldn't notice the difference. The other one's mumbling falls too quiet to reach Faedryl's ears. "Speak up, if you can,"  she instructs imperiously. "You still seem to have your tongue, you should use it." She saw little point in detailing her own extensive and impressive list of talents in full - they wouldn't be crafting any plans any time soon. A dullard who challenged a huntress to cards and one who couldn't must their own voice. Such information would be wasted on them. Instead, she simply states "As for myself, I am a prodigious arcanist, among other skills."

She eyes the mumbler's bowl of food as her stomach grumbles, probably loud enough for the others to hear, though she draws no attention to it. A voice in the back - and front, if she were honest - of her mind whispers quietly. _Take it, they're nothing. You are a scion of Melad. You are drow._ Her own voice, mostly, but just enough of her Mother's to put Faedryl off the idea entirely. Allies were in short enough supply, incompetents or otherwise. She could survive another day without food. The outpost leader - whomever they were - wouldn't let her starve, or they'd be the one in the pits next. Her immediate survival was assured, she need only practice patience, a skill she was becoming quite familiar with.

She shuts her eyes to take the sight of food from her, to push it out of her mind and to focus on other things. The door was thick but all things could be broken. Maybe the dwarf could simply bash it down, or the gnome could steal a key. That might not be a bad suggestion - if he failed, she at least wouldn't need to listen to him talk anymore. They'd need to have enough momentum behind them to take out the guards, of course, and so the more prisoners they threw in here the better, though waiting too long meant some would disappear - herself, potentially, included. She couldn't wait around aimlessly. More information was needed - about the outpost, and about her fellow cellmates.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 1 level of Exhaustion 
Concentrating on:

*The Third Day*
Bort picks up the pickaxe, looks to the other two prisoners, then looks at the quaggoths in the back of the cavern. Godsdamn spider kissing bastards... he says in Dwarvish. Then he sets to work. He works at a steady pace, not pushing himself too hard, but not slacking either. After working for a few hours, he looks down at the pieces of stone he has broken off and tries to search for one that is sharp and will fit in his boot. He already has a sheath in his boot, so he tries to find one that will fit in it. Bending over, he pretends to retie his boots while he attempts to palm the rock and slip it into the sheath.

*The Fourth Day*

Borthan wakes up screaming, but it is immediately cut short by retching. The remains of his gruel comes up, some of it through his nose, and splashes down onto the floor of the cell. He struggles to calm down and catch his breath, spitting out the last of the bile in his mouth. Speaking in Dwarvish, he shakily says to himself Get it together, Zuek. Get it together. Then he falls back onto his back and tries to get any rest he can before work that day.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

First some rolls to determine exactly what I post. First, Athletics- (1d20+5)[*13*] Bort is not going to choose to push himself for advantage. Next, a sanity roll- (1d20+2)[*8*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Third Day, Work Group*

Sifting through the rubble, it only appears as though Borthan is clearing it away to the quaggoth watching them. He slips a sharp fragment that broke off into his boot sheath, where a dagger once was. It's a little bulky, a little uncomfortable, but short enough not to poke out and be seen.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Borthan makes 13/35 progress towards completing the job.

He also acquires a Stone Dagger. It serves as a dagger, but weighs twice as much and has a -1 penalty to hit.


*The Third Day, Cell*

*"My quick hands are good at a lot of things,"* Jimjar responds, beginning to play solitaire on the floor of the cell.

At Faedryl's reprimand, the smaller gnome shrinks back and looks away, scratching the back of his neck. He clears his throat and speaks more loudly, but still barely a whisper. "I also know a little magic."

*The Fourth Day*

As he tries to lay back down, Borthan begins to twitch and convulse on the floor, startling the other prisoners. Turvy scampers away from him, while Topsy reaches over and grabs his shoulders, trying to keep him still so he doesn't slam his head on the rocks. "Hey. Hey, pull yourself together!"

Jumping to his feet, Jimjar runs over and helps Topsy get him steady. He grabs Borthan by the chin and smacks him on the cheek to snap him out of it.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Borthan suffers a Sanity failure. He takes 1 damage to his Sanity, and suffers a Short-term Madness and a Panic.

Borthan suffers Paralysis for 9 minutes or until he takes damage, entering a catatonic state and seizing when he tries to go back to sleep. Jimjar snaps him out of it with a light slap, dealing *1* damage.

Borthan has the Fearful Panic until he next rests, inflicting Disadvantage on fear checks and Sanity checks.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Confident they would not hurt any of her companions, Nilvae finally got some time to think about her own predicament. Fleeing was ill-advised at this time. She could just step out of the cocoon with the help of Puck's powers, but she would not get far, and she would have to abandon her friends. And honestly, this was kinda fun, even if deep down, Nilvae was distressed. Plus any obvious magic could cost her her tongue, so she began to sing an old elvish verse.

_The holidays will seem bittersweet
While you're alone in bed
But how can one girl ever compete
With a magic fat guy in a flying sled?
Go ask a hundred single girls
From here to Menzober...ranzan
They'll say it's clear as day
You're in for sleepless nights
If you date a guy
Who has a thing for tights
Oh, never fall in love
Never fall in love
Never  
Fall in
Love
With an
Elf_ 

Oddly enough, her song was supported by a faint echo of distant instruments, namely a flute, violin and jingling bells.

*Spoiler*
Show


Performance (1d20+4)[*24*]

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Third Day - Work Group*

Dworic stares at the grinning drow with a mix of blasé contempt. He walks to wall and taps it lightly, trying to find the weaker spots where water had infiltrated or moss has grown and the rock has eroded. Pointing at the best places to start, he motions to Bort and Turvy. *"Start there."* His calloused hands reach out and he begins pulling at the weaker rock, straining tired muscles and building up feverish sweat throughout the day.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Athletics: (1d20+3)[*18*] | (1d20+3)[*23*] Disadvantage
INT to find weaker rock and best way to tackle the wall: (1d20-1)[*4*] (add +2 if Mason's Tools can apply)
edit: LOL at Dworic being a buff dumb dude and getting an 18 with Disadvantage and no tool while messing up an Int roll  :Small Big Grin:

----------


## Amnestic

*Third Day, Cell*

"See, was that so difficult? It's said in a harsher tone than perhaps Faedryl intends. She is _trying_ to be encouraging, but it's not exactly her normal attitude. An entirely alien tone to her. "Drow are naturally adept at magic, so the more we have to counter them the better our chances."

Two down, three to go. That she knew of at least. Hopefully this wasn't the last of the prisoners. Six versus an entire outpost...not impossible, but she'd like a few more bodies between her and their crossbow bolts. 

*Fourth Day, Cell*

Faedryl watches the scene play out with Borthan and Jimjar, suppressing a smirk at the slap. It was deeply amusing watching the scene play out, until the ramifications of it settled in on her, at which point it became less funny. They - _she_ - didn't have room for dead weight, and someone who couldn't control themselves was exactly that, though perhaps they could toss his body as a distraction. 

Her stomach's still complaining at her but she deigns to move to Borthan, standing over him. "Explain yourself, thinblood. Are you contagious?" If it was a sickness that they could all catch it might work in their favour, if they weren't already infected. It would require moving them all elsewhere, to a secondary jail, one perhaps less secured than this one.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 28/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 1 Level of Exhaustion 
Concentrating on:

*The Fourth Day*

Borthan feels his faculties return after the slap, and immediately begins pushing the gnomes away. I'm fine, damnit, I'M FINE! He shouts a little louder than he'd intended, but his shoves are firm but not harsh. He was glad for the help, even if it stung his face. Rising to a sitting position, he shakes himself, slaps his own face a few more times, and utters a few choice curses in Dwarvish. Then the Drow female approached him and began asking questions. He turned to her, barely contained fury in his eyes, and spoke in very measured Elven. I'm not contagious, fatblood. Unless nightmares are transmittable. He looks to the door to check for prying eyes, then if he finds they are alone, he reaches down into his boot and draws the stone dagger. If the elf was a spy, it would almost assuredly be taken and he would be beaten or killed, but the rest would know who was responsible for tattling, and the Drow would surely be close behind him on the way to hell. He brandishes the knife, makes sure everyone sees it, then makes a show of using it to shave his neck to test the edge. It may also make him king of the cave, and that would be an upside. In Dwarvish then in Gnomish he says If the guards find out about the knife without a real search, the Drow is a spy and should be dealt with accordingly. Then he returns the dagger to his boot, makes sure it is out of sight, and then stands up to take his position at the door, moving sluggishly.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Third Day, Work Group*

Even without tools, Dworic proves surprisingly efficient - or not surprisingly, if one knew anything about dwarves. His hands seem to naturally find loose stones, and pry out any stubborn pieces that the other two pick at. Topsy is less adept, struggling to use a pick that is nearly as large as she is. But between the three of them, the are able to expand the quarters by about five feet - just as instructed.

Topsy attempts to pick up one of the bones from the ground, but the quaggoth nearest the pile snarls and scares her away from it.

When the drow supervisor returns and steps inside with a smug look on his face, his smirk is washed away and replaced with mixed disappointment and begrudging recognition. "Hmph. So you managed it. Fine, no ration cuts." His expression shifts again into a sly grin. "Your prices can go up, now that we know you're able bodied workers."

The three of them are led back to the cell after the day's hard labor.

*The Fourth Day*

The two gnomes get up and back away from Borthan after he stops seizing. Jimjar brushes off his pant legs, *"Hey, there he is. You were having some sort of bad dream?"* 

Topsy looks at the stream of puke across the floor and covers her mouth with her sleeve. "What kind of nightmare makes you do that." Her words are more of a statement than a question. But she nods subtly to Borthan's warning about the drow woman, making her way back over to Turvy's spot.

A few minutes after Borthan shows off his dagger, a familiar (to him) scarred drow makes an appearance before the cell door. He slides a tray of food through the slot. This time it's not mushroom gruel, but some strips of dried meat and some grilled mushrooms. Whether it's a reward for their work the other day or just a regular cycling of the 'menu' is uncertain.

The scared drow nods his head upwards, looking Faedryl in the eye. "Hey. Stop messing around and get over here," he orders, more loudly than he needs to.

*Spoiler: Insight 14*
Show

His tone seemed to be more for the guards posted nearby than for the prisoners. Those who are attentive can see his head turn slightly, and eyes flick to the side to catch the walkway in his periphery.


*Meanwhile...*

In spite of themselves, one of the drow finds himself tapping his toe to the tune of Nilvae's song. The one beside him slaps him upside the head, and he runs a hand over the spot under his long hair. "What?!"

"She's going to draw attention from predators or worse, you imbecile." The slappy drow looks up at her and shushes loudly. "Keep it down, we're supposed to be hidden. For your own good I might add - unless you'd like to be eaten by some big nasty."

----------


## Amnestic

*Fourth Day, Cell*

"They could be." For a moment curiosity overrides her, and rather than taking in any of the show of the thinblood's concealed dagger she's scrutinising his skin, his pupils, his hair, looking for any discolouration, blotches or other indication of sickness. Not that she had much training in the medical arts, she was mostly looking for anything obvious. She comes up short though. Perhaps he was just mad instead, though the third gnome, the unknown factor, had a point - ordinary nightmares don't have you throwing up on the floor. Not any she'd had at least, and there'd been a few bad nights especially after her run in with the tome that had started this whole mess.

The sight of food, sparse though it was, is enough to draw her attention from the mad daggerman though. At the guard's beckoning she turns away from them, striding with as much poise as her weary feet could must. Faedryl stops, briefly, to scoop up what she judged a fair portion of food, and that wasn't, surprisingly, far more than the others. No need to make enemies by taking more than her share. She chews slowly. Even if the food wasn't up to her standards after so long it tasted immaculate to her, and her stomach hungrily consumes everything she feeds it without complaint. Slow eating would let it last longer, and if they only got food once a day, she'd need it to last. She...wasn't sure why she knew eating slowly would help. Had she read it somewhere? Or was it...not important right now. She needs to focus on the guard instead.

She stands close to the door, though out of arm's reach in the event he tried to reach through the bars, even if it was unlikely. She looks him over. Male, not particularly impressive. Unlikely to serve in any great capacity, but then what male did in an outpost like this. She isn't really sure what her acknowledgement should be. He was a male, beneath her, yet she was a prisoner stripped of rank and title. She shouldn't be at his beck and call, and yet, here and now, she had to follow his orders. Should she be assertive? Submissive? If she could sway this one then their job would become so much easier. "Guardsman." He could take that as he wanted, deferential if it suited his tastes, but without showing any actual deference, merely acknowledgement - though for a scion of House Melad that might be deference all on its own.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fourth Day*

Leaning forward near to the bars - probably too near - the guardsman speaks to Faedryl in a low, conspiratorial voice. "The latest caravan from Menzoberranzan is overdue. Scouts say the main road is blocked by a collapse."

*Spoiler: Borthan Religion*
Show

The dream was extremely evocative of oozes. That thought is when it strikes him, like a bolt of sudden inspiration. The dark caustic tar and glowing yellow eyespots, they are something he has seen in one of his hunts, when he captured a demon cultist. Their shrine had contained a black pudding, kept in a fountain and fed their victims, and spherical yellow lights had dimly illuminated the otherwise dark chamber.

It had been a shrine to Jubilex, the Demon Lord of Slime.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Nilvae finishes her song with a last verse, then falls quiet. After a while she responds. Why do you think I scare of predators? A simple request, my dear friends. Can you put my nightly quarters right side up. All this blood in my head is making me want to sing another verse. she insists, giving the last few words some sort of melody as if she wanted to start another song.

If you want you can hang me up again, just the right side around.

*Spoiler*
Show

Persuasion for a sensible request. (1d20+6)[*19*]

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Third Day - Back to the cell*

Dworic simply glares at the drow guard when he returns, making a show of his dusty hands and then of scratching his neck, leaving the guard to make the connection between hands strong enough to crush stone and wide enough to envelop an elven-sized neck. In silence, he marches back to the cell, finds a mostly dry spot in a corner and lies down. His breathing is even but other signs - such as the taught tendons and distended veins in his arms and hands, the cold sweat on his brow and the deep dark circles under his eyes - point to obvious exhaustion. Not long after that he falls fitfully asleep.

*Fourth Day*

The dwarf awakes early - or at least what his own inner sense of time tells him is early. He rolls flat on his back and simply stays there, staring at the ceiling. *"Why would you let me be taken, Haela?"* he mutters very low in dwarvish, under his breath. Feelings of betrayal, hatred and scorn all dance in his mind.

When the half-elf is sick, Dworic sits up and looks on in silence. Despite trying to look uninterested, there is concern in the way he looks at Borthan. When the food arrives, Dworic gives Bort some of his own share. *"Try to keep it down. You need your strength."* With a curt nod, he then returns to his corner and chews slowly on his jerky. His ears perk up as the guard summons the drow prisoner and watches the exchange curiously.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Insight: (1d20+3)[*14*]

Does Dworic recover another level of Exhaustion? I don't think it's addressed on any of the previous spoilers.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fourth Day, Cell*

That was good. It would mean a change in normality for the outpost. Slow messages, if any were sent, strain supplies. There were other routes here no doubt, but they'd be longer, and probably more dangerous for any supply transports. It'd buy them time more than anything. She hesitantly takes a step closer to the bars, hopeful that she could jump out of reach if he were to try anything. She can't help but voice the question now burning on her tongue. "Why tell me?" Everyone had an angle, especially drow. Leadership dispute perhaps? He planned to use her to oust the current outpost head? Faedryl might even be amenable to that, though she'd not stick around afterwards.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Dworic is down to 1 Exhaustion after the second rest, yes.


*The Fourth Day*

On the other side of the bars, now up close, Faedryl can see the drow's downturned face, the deep bags and dark veins under his eyes from infrequent trancing. And she can see boiling anger in his eyes. "I have my reasons. I assume you want to get out of here?" he whispers back, face mere inches from Faedryl's and voice too low for the others further in to hear - and especially not the other guards. "The road blockage means many more patrols are going to be dropping off their catches here. When you're ready, I can 'forget' to lock the door after a work day."

While they watch the drow whisper with each other, the big-nosed gnome saunters over to Borthan and nudges him in the shin with an elbow. He wears a wide, playful grin full of clean, well-cared for white teeth. He has not yet partaken of his share of 'breakfast'. *"So, how about a little wager to make things more interesting?"* he asks, running a finger and a thumb together. *"I'll bet'cha fifty gold (once we're out of here obviously) she's not a spy."*

After his messages to Faedryl are relayed, the scarred drow speaks up, his voice now clearly audible again. "It's time for another work day. Traitor drow, two male gnomes. It's your turn. Come up to the door and everyone else keep back." Breaking off from his conference with Borthan after waiting for an answer, Jimjar walks over to line up behind Faedryl. Topsy has to give her brother a pep talk in his ear before he reluctantly stands to follow.

*The Fifth Day*

*Spoiler: Dworic*
Show

It is a wonderful day.

Everything around Dworic is illuminated by a pale orange light that resonates through the tunnels, all-encompassing. Around him other festive partygoers dance and sing with one another upon the squishy, grey floor. Its folds and creases look much like a brain that's grown across the floor, the walls, the ceiling; it encompasses all. Smaller mushrooms with bright glow crop up here and there, like decorations amidst the pews of the chapel.

The impending nuptials of Dworic's queen are cause for much celebration, and infectious, uncharacteristic joy bubbles up inside him. But the time for dancing comes to an end and the venue's fungoid staff guide him down into his seat.
'
The bride begins her walk down the aisle. Tall, thin, with a veil of deliciously rotten, corpse-sweet fungal flesh hanging around her face. Dworic can feel spores catching in his teeth as he smiles widely at his Queen. She strides past rows of gathered celebrants, to the groom. A tall stalk of the grey matter that has been molded into a vaguely humanoid shape. On her arrival, the bride forgets the order of her ceremonies and tosses a bouquet of festive, colorful fungi. Everyone reaches up and, in spite of his shortness, it finds its way into Dworic's outstretched hands.

There in front of him are fungi in shades of blue, green, red and yellow, all popping against the suffused orange glow. In one of their smooth, bright surfaces, he can see a reflection of himself. His skull split open like a flowering plant, and stalks of orange growths rising up out of him.


This time it is the dwarf that wakes up with a sudden start, feeling a crawling sensation throughout his skull. A desperate, all-consuming itch.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Dworic does not recover from any Exhaustion during his third rest, leaving him at 1.

He must make a DC 12 Sanity save against the nightmare. If he claws at his head and tears at it with his nails to make the itching stop, he will suffer two instances of his own unarmed damage (4), but will lower the save DC to 10.


*Meanwhile...*

The drow at camp look at one another and the one who'd pestered her to be quiet shrugs. "Fine, guess she's had enough." He gets up and walks over to her, wrapping a cloth gag tightly around Nilvae's head and in her mouth. "I'm cutting you loose to be retied. Don't try anything."

Bringing out a dagger, he cleanly slices through the silk, leaving Nilvae to fall down onto the stone floor below. Another drow keeps her from cracking her neck (can't sell a dead or paralyzed slave... not for as much, anyways), but lets her legs flop painfully onto the stone floor. They begin standing her against the wall to be spider'd again.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fourth Day, Cell*

She takes care not to let her emotions show too clearly, instead nodding in agreement as he speaks before standing back for the work shift. Given who she was, and who she was with, hopefully it wouldn't be too physically intensive. She'd been right though, some dispute over leadership seemed the only thing that would make him turn traitor like this. She'd seen anger like that before. She'd felt it before. Maybe he'd lost his lover as she had. A twinge of sympathy tickled her chest, but she stamped it down quickly. Sympathy could wait. For now she'd play the diligent worker and when she got back to the cell, inform the others what she'd heard. Even the mad thinblood. It was all coming together. Was it fate? Divine providence? Seemed unlikely. Maybe she was just lucky, though that she was here in the first place put a damper on that idea.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 28/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 1 Level of Exhaustion 
Concentrating on:

*The Fourth Day*

When Dworic passes some of his own food to Borthan, the half-elf nearly objects. If he was sick once he might be sick again, and then the food would only go to waste. But then his stomach growled at the sight of the improved rations, and he accepts the extra food with only a Thanks, biggun. in Dwarvish. He wolfs down his food with a fervor, seeking to replace what had been retched across the floor. He also watched the female drow talk to the guard, eyebrow raised and trying to listen in to no avail. Then the big nosed gnome nudged him and offered him a bet. He chuckles, despite everything, and shakes his head. Don't got fifty gold in my purse, they've probably already emptied what I had into their own pocket, and don't know when I'm going to get paying work again. I never ring up debts I can't pay. He chews for a moment, considering. I'll try to think if there is anything I DO have to bet, but nothing comes to mind. Personally I don't think she's a spy, either. If she was a male, maybe, but for a female to be in this hole she musta done something REAL bad.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fourth Day*

Before he steps away for his shift, the gnome looks up at Borthan slyly. *"These are the drow we're talking about. Could be she did something real good,"* he taps the side of his head and winks, before shuffling out with the others.

*The Fourth Day, Work Shift*

Their procession walks through, escorted by the crippled drow across the walkway. Off to the side, Faedryl can see out into a huge cavern, with spiderwebs sprawling beneath them that hide them from observers below, and below that a pool of dark water.

Ahead of them are three drow, an officer and two rank and file, assembled around a table playing cards. Behind them is a ladder leading up to another tier of the 'building', which has been carved into one of the large stalactites in the ceiling of the cavern. Jimjar has taken to eating his food while being led away, gnawing off a bit of jerky. One of the drow as they pass is seized by cruel impulse and slaps the food right out of the gnome's hands. "Clumsy you, dropping food like that. Not going to let it go to waste are you?"

Leaning down, Jimjar scoops up the piece of food and continues eating it without complaint, much to the disappointment of the offending drow. "Tch, least it's learned to accept the scraps it's thrown."

They go along another, longer walkway, past the waterfall. Flecks of wetness fall on their left side and faces. Finally, they come to another stalactite, where an ornate door has been constructed in the side with patterns of spiders and webbing carved painstakingly into the wood. A pair of quaggoth guards loom around this end of the walkway, while a young drow priestess stands beside the door drinking from a cup of tea, paying them as much mind as a surfacer would grass underfoot. Faedryl does not recognize her as the huntress from the tunnels, nor as part of her entourage.

The interior of the stalactite is draped in fine cloth and filled with silk cushions and blankets in many brilliant colors. At the center of the chamber is a statue of Lolth, the Spider Queen, standing tall and imperiously watching over the shrine. Towards the back of the room is a trapdoor leading down below.

*Spoiler: Perception DC 14*
Show

There is a giant spider nestled under some of the cushions and blankets, apparently asleep.


"You are to clean and polish the statue of Her Cleverness, Lolth the Spider Goddess," the scarred drow instructs them, picking up a wooden bucket filled with washcloths from the floor and holding it out to Faedryl. Near where it was resting is another cloth, and a container of polish. "When you are finished, our mistress Priestess Vandree will inspect your work. She expects it to be spotless. Failure to achieve expectations will result in cut rations for all prisoners. Do not attempt to enter the trapdoor if you value life and limb." He doesn't wait for any questions, before he shuts the door behind them and they are left alone.

Jimjar claps his hands together and rubs them. *"Shall we?"*

Gingerly, Turvy plucks one of the washclothes out of the bucket and wrings it into the water. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it and shuffles to the base of the statue to start scrubbing it.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

It will be a Perception check to contribute to the maintenance of Lolth's shrine, to find blemishes or missed spots that may get them in trouble. A character may choose to work extra hard, gaining Advantage at the cost of a point of Exhaustion.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

I thank you! Nilvae says in the most friendly cheery voice these drow have probably ever heard. You know besides being grumpy slave-trading spider worshippers, you are not so bad yourselves. the half-elf praises her jailors. Have no fear I will create any trouble for you. I know when I am defeated. I may be mad, but I am not stupid. Outrunning a drow warband in the middle of the Underdark is not working. At least not for a surface elf like me. I just try to make my situation as good as can be right now. Did I mention I am a skilled herbalist and singer? Maybe you could note that and sell me according to these skills. I am not one for digging holes or for serving tea.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day*

The dwarf wakes with a start, a low haunting moan escaping his lips as he runs his hands through his beard and hair, unfocused eyes wide with fear as he begins to pound his head with his fists and rake his broken fingernails on his scalp trying and trying to stop the itch within. *"not real not real not real not real not real not real not real,"* he says over and over again for a few minutes until he finally calms down. His breath starts to even and his eyes regain focus as he stares at the blood and hair on his hands.

With a big, shuddering breath, he can't help but remark *"What in the hells is wrong with his place?"*

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 *History:* (1d20-1)[*0*]
 *Religion:* (1d20-1)[*2*]

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fourth Day, Work Shift*

Faedryl looks up at the statue, disgust rising in her throat. In some ways everything came back to Lolth and her poisonous influence on her people. Maybe that's what they had _her_ cleaning this statue specifically. It annoyed her that, if that was the intention, that it was working. If the opportunity came she'd have to remember to smash it on their escape. Maybe even in front of some of the other drow, really drive the point home. She takes the bucket from the scarred drow, allowing her hand to briefly brush against his, but making no sign of acknowledging it.

Once the guards are gone, she looks at the statue again. She doesn't particularly want to touch it, but there's a lot of things she doesn't want to do that ended up getting done. "If our performance affects everyone's rations, I'll push myself." She declares, to neither of the gnomes in particular. Losing rations for the group wouldn't endear herself, and she needed them pliable, not distrustful.

*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show


Perception: (1d20+2)[*12*]
With advantage for working hard: (1d20+2)[*3*]


*Fifth Day, Cell*

She's snapped out of her trance by the dwarf's mutterings, opening one lazy eye first to take in the scene. At least he wasn't throwing up all over the cell. "Just a 'bad dream'?" She asks with a bemused barbed tongue, taking a chance to look directly at the thinblood. First him, now the dwarf. Which of them would catch the madness next? "What did you see?"

----------


## RandomWombat

*Fourth Day, Work Shift*

Swallowing her pride, Faedryl is able to apply herself well to the cleaning of the statue. She can almost feel Lolth sneering down at her with satisfaction as she shines the spider queen's 'boots'. Turvy nervously avoids washing any 'inappropriate' areas, avoiding them subconsciously with a nervous dark-grey flush to his face. Too jovial for his own good, Jimjar whistles a jaunty working tune as he goes, moving to cover the places Turvy is too sheepish to wash.

As the work nears its conclusion, Jimjar reaches down to grab one of the pillows, carefully sliding out the silken threads of one of the gold-colored tassels. He still whistles as he goes, and when he sets the pillow back down it's as if nothing is amiss. Only by counting the tassels of every pillow would someone realize it had been tempered with.

Jimjar winks at the others as he slips the string away into hiding.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Together the group achieves 38/35, enough to complete the job. Faedryl gains 1 Exhaustion.
Jimjar is able to subtly acquire another silken Garrote.


The big-nosed deep gnome hops suddenly to attention as footsteps are heard outside the door. The priestess outside enters, apparently having finished her tea. She motions with her arms for them to move away to the walls, as if parting the sea with her hands. Behind her, the scarred drow waits outside of the shrine.

She circles the statue with her hands folded behind her, haughtily looking at their work with pursed lips. At last she declares, *"Acceptable. Take them back to their cell, Duskryn."* She flashes the scarred drow a playful smile across the room, and he clears his throat, lowering his eyes in deference.

"Of course, mistress."

*Spoiler: DC 12 Insight*
Show

The junior priestess is clearly trying to play on the other drow's need for affection or acceptance.

*Spoiler: DC 15 Insight*
Show

Beneath his deferential head bow, the male drow's face is stony and set. He is absolutely not falling for her wiles.



*Fifth Day*

"This is the second time," Topsy points out, the female gnome echoing Faedryl's sentiments. "Something is wrong. Both of you, we need to know what these nightmares were of," she insists, eyes flicking between Dworic and Borthan.

*Meanwhile...*

Nilvae's cooperation comes as a surprise to the drow slaves. "Maybe this one has what it takes to survive in service after all."

"Assuming her mistress enjoys music," another quips. Though they seem disarmed around the warlock girl, they still call down a giant spider to tie her up again, and keep her from wandering off. "Tell you what. As a reward for being such a model slave, you can lie down before we tie you up. Get some sleep, we have a long march tomorrow," one of the drow points at the ground beneath her as the spider crawls over.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fourth Day, Work Shift*

Faedryl stays quiet and stonefaced as she follows instructions from the priestess dutifully, though she's a bit sluggish from the exertion. At least it was acceptable, they'd done what was required, that was something. And perhaps the gnomes would give her some sway with the rest of the cell. She had a name for her pet traitor though - Duskryn, and she hadn't missed the looks between them. Faedryl felt sure now - she was the reason he was betraying the outpost. It was unlikely she could find a chance to ask why, exactly, but that was more of a curiosity for her than importance. Knowing the cause would help her sell it to the rest of the cell though. An unexplained betrayal was one thing, but now that she knew why, easier to get them on board. "Male drow hates female drow in power" wasn't exactly an unknown story.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

The elven maid surveys the camp from her place, checking for obvious exits now that she has been cut loose. It did not matter much, invoking Puck's magic could easily alleviate her off the bindings, but her fleeing and being caught would only worsen her prospects of having a worthwhile prison, nor would it benefit her donkey-spider and dog companions. For now, she decided to rest her eyes and accept the fate of a prisoner.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

*The Fifth Day*

Borthan shoots Dworic a heavy look after he stops clawing at himself. The half-drow had watched the entire event in silence. Did he look like that? Did he seem so... deranged? Shaking his head of these thoughts, he sits down against the door and sighs. Gods, what he would do for a little tobacco now. He looked evenly at Topsy and then down at the ground. It took him time. Time to recall exactly what he felt. Every bit of fear. And it took him longer still to speak it in Undercommon. I was hunting. A bounty. On a Gnome called the Pudding King. I tracked him down and then he trapped me. He melted into this... sludge. When I looked down it it was like black tar rising out of these yellow lights. Then it dragged me down and I started melting into sludge. Then the sludge began flooding out of my mouth. Then I woke up. I was... fine for a few seconds, then I seized up and couldn't move until I got slapped. He had let all this out in one breath, so he took a deep inhale, sighed again, and said The lights were from a real place. Hunted a weird cultist to his base of operations. Dark place. Underground. The black... well they had this ooze that lived in a dry fountain. And they would lower people into the fountain... to feed it. Did it while praying to Jubilex. Demon lord of slimes. Anyway... He is glad no one can see him blush. He was not used to being so open with people. Hell, he wasn't even used to speaking with people for longer than it took to kill them or gag them. His hand reached reflexively towards the knife, wondering it it would bring him comfort. But he clenched his fist instead.If fat-blood was right then one of you better get ready to ride the lightning, because my dream hurt. Hurt bad.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fourth Day, Cell*

The group from the work shift returns, and the scarred drow - now known to Faedryl as Duskryn - re-locks the door and leaves them be. Turvy quickly retreats from the spotlight of his arrival to shrink into the background.

Going over to Dworic, Jimjar slips a strand of silk out of his sleeve and holds it out to the dwarf. *"Think you'll have better luck choking somebody out with this than me. Put it somewhere nobody'll see,"* he says in a low voice. Then he turns on his heel and regards the whole cell. *"Why don't we get some proper introductions, huh? Work group was out last time we bothered. Jimjar, gambler and drifter, but not a grifter, at your service!"*

"Topsy, and Turvy," the more vocal of the gnome twins points between herself and her brother.

*The Fifth Day*

"Jubilex, you say?" an unfamiliar voice to most speaks up from the twins' little nook. It's Turvy, the quiet gnome. He's sitting with his legs folded up in front of him, arms wrapped around them. For the first time he speaks up with a bit of interest. "As far as I know, nothing like nightmares are in the Faceless Lord's domain..." he ponders aloud, staring ahead at his knees with his tall brow furrowed.

*Meanwhile...*

*Spoiler: Nilvae*
Show

It is a bright day, sunlight sparkling down through dew-wet leaves as Nilvae twirls and spins. Bluebirds flutter around, lifting up a shawl around her shoulders as a pair of does prance to and fro in imitation of her steps.

The words of a song she doesn't quite recognize reverberate through the glade, accompanied by the whistling panpipes of satyrs lining the edges of the glade. Twitters of birdsong join with her own voice in celebration, and a tiny grig lands on her shoulder playing a fiddle with his legs.

Splatter on roses and whiskers from kittens
Warm copper flavors and fresh furry mittens
Cute shrunken heads all tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things

Nilvae reaches up and takes the grig from her shoulder, his fiddling reaching a fever pitch just before she plucks his legs from his little body and tosses him aside. The deer prancing around hunch over and cackle with deep, shuddering laughter. Their spines stretch out against the flesh of their backs, fur falling out in mangy patches.

Cream fur flecked with spots and laughter most brutal
Sweet country belles slurpin' guts like they're noodles
High soaring kites stretched out of live skins
These're a few of my favorite things

Another voice, harsh and gravelly joins Nilvae in her song as she dances around. The bird song is cut short with a sudden squawk as the does leap up to snap them out of the air in long, sharpening teeth. Their faces grow wider and their bodies bulk out with powerful muscle. They are not entirely deer anymore, not at all. The more that she sings, the more canine they become.

Girls in white dresses with bloody red splashes
Gore that clings to my face and eyelashes
Crunching their bones till they bunch up like springs
These are a few of my favorite things

The deer shudder and cackle as they begin to stand up on two legs, mouths curling back as they shriek to the sky. High above the sun slowly dies into dark, filling the clearing with shadow. Only the gleaming reflective eyes of the two hyenas standing in front of Nilvae show through.

The panpipes have stopped, as the bushes at the edge of the clearing crunch underfoot and the trees are toppled by a looming figure with a smile that goes on for miles.

"Guess who's _baaaaack_?" a snarling voice asks in a bloodcurdling singsong voice, vast malevolent eyes peering through Nilvae's own and piercing her soul down to something beyond.


Suddenly, Nilvae awakens in a fit of giggles, writhing against the web cocoon she's lying in. The drow slavers are in the middle of packing up camp when her awakening startles them, and one of them pulls out a club. "What are you cackling about, girl?" Another of the drow starts laughing as well, catching the attention of the one with his club out. "What? What in the pits is so funny?" Two more of them double over with laughter, and the ones not caught up in the fit spin around, beads of sweat forming as they try to puzzle out what's happening.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Nilvae must make a DC 12 Sanity save. All the drow nearby are forced to make it as well.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fourth Day, Cell*

She returns to the cell on dragged feat, eager for trance, and probably some sleep on top of it too, but there were things that came first. She adds her voice to the introductions. "Faedryl, former scion of House Melad." She takes a seat, cross legged, though maintains just a touch of distance. She's not too eager to get close to the mad thinblood, lest he start lashing out with his dagger again. "I'm a spellcaster of some skill, among other things."

Once names have been exchanged, she speaks up further, keeping her voice low from any wary guards listening in. "I have news. The main supply route between here and Menzoberranzan has been blocked, apparently by a collapse of some sort. Patrols will be sending more prisoners here while it gets cleared, they'll be cut off from assistance and they won't be sending us to the city in the next few days." She pauses to let it settle in before continuing. "The guard who told me seems to want us to break out so we can...*remove* the priestess in charge of the outpost when we break out. His hate for her seems genuine, and if I give him a signal he'll get us the key for the door." Another pause, she takes a deep breath. "Six of us against an outpost, even with one traitor guard, may not be doable, but if they bring more in the next few days, maybe scavenge some more tools, it might be enough. There may be a real chance here." 

It felt...odd to be talking like this. It wasn't her norm. It wasn't natural to her, but it does feel good, just a little, to try to encourage them. To lead, or at least guide, through something other than fear and pure power. Through something other than her family name. Though that might depend on how effective it turns out to be.

*Fifth Day, Cell*

"Worshipping Jubilex seems like a waste of time to me." Faedryl adds idly, mostly musing outloud. "If it's connected to a demon lord maybe it's not a contagion then. Maybe it's something about this place that's doing it? Some sort of...curse or corruption on the stones?" She runs a hand against the cold rock, trying to coax any insight from it, but she may as well try to coax blood from it for all the good it did her.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Spoiler: Nilvae Madness*
Show

Nilvae is Deafened for 20 hours, as she continues to hear the sound of hyenas cackling in her ears.

She loses 1 San and suffers the Fearful Panic, taking Disadvantage to fear and Sanity saves.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Sanity: 7 (-1)
Conditions: deafened, fearful
Concentration: -

_These are a few of my favorite things..._ Nilvae wakes up shaking involuntarily. She struggles against her bindings.

*TAKE THEM AWAY! TAKE AWAY THE LAUGHTER!* she shouts panicked as she slips into yet another giggling fit. She convulses, and finally, she understands, she needs to flee, to get away from there. Away from the hyenas, that wanted to tear her flesh. From the spiders, and other beasts. Her body turns into a fine mist that suddenly travels north and she materializes again. If the cave were lit, it would sparkle a bit. Standing up, she books it out of the camp. 

Spide. Brutus. Forgive me. she thinks as she flees into unknown caverns. Unable to see much, unable to hear.

----------


## RandomWombat

*In the Dark*

The sudden flash of mist catches the drow by surprise as Nilvae rushes off into the darkness. They shout after her, but the sounds of their voices are drowned out by the hyena's terrible cackling. Two drow are left behind at camp as they suffer lapses of sanity, and four chase after Nilvae, accompanied by a pair of giant spiders.

Two crossbow bolts slash by, glancing across Nilvae's side, and she feels a sluggishness in her feet that she must shake off to keep to her flight.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Two drow remain behind, suffering from Sanity breaks.

Four drow give chase and shoot. Two are too far and suffer Disadvantage that causes them to miss, while two were closer to the opening of the alcove and get in range of normal shots.
Two giant spiders give chase, Dashing to catch up but still out of melee range.
Nilvae is hit twice for *4* and *6* damage by hand crossbows. She must make two DC 13 Con saves vs Drow Poison. Failure is Poisoned for 1 hour, while failure by 5 or more is also Unconscious for 1 hour.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day*

Dworic is silent for an uncomfortably long time after the drow's question. He's inwardly thankful that Borthan decided to share his own nightmare first, giving him time to shake off most of the night's horrors.

When he finally speaks, his deep voice is low and rumbling. *"It was some form of wedding celebration. The bride was a queen - my queen. She and the groom and the guests were different types of fungi and mushrooms as was the great hall itself. I saw myself breathe in their spores and then my skull split asunder and fungi sprouted from my brain."*

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fifth Day, Cell*

Outside, Eldeth is led with her head covered by a bag, and tied up to prevent her from getting it to fall off. Her hands are bound in front of her, and behind her another drow prisoner is being escorted. She hasn't seen who it is, only heard his smooth dulcet voice speaking in duergar-butchered Dwarvish. With the sound of a door creaking open ahead, she is shoved forwards.


Not long after Dworic's explanation, there are footsteps from outside. Many more footsteps than the previous visits from the drow. The door creaks open and a pair of new prisoners are shoved in. One is a female dwarf, with a bag tied around her head. The other is a derro with a broad, bristly beard and mustache, with a black blindfold over his eyes. The derro slips off his blindfold and stretches his neck. "My, my, my. We are in quite a pickle aren't we?" he states as calmly as if he were saying it's raining today, in dwarvish. His voice is soft and gentle. Reaching over, he unties the dwarf's bag hood and pulls it off of her.

The drow shut the door behind them, but do not leave right away. One of them calls into the room, "Traitor, mutt, dwarf - _old_ dwarf. Line up by the door, it's work time. And best work fast if you want there to be any food when you get back," the drow officer smirks. Behind him, the prisoners can see the scarred drow waiting with a tray of food.

*Spoiler: Dream: Religion*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

With the earlier revelation of Jubilex's nightmare, a guess at the topic of this dream comes more easily to those with knowledge of demonology. The rival of Jubilex is Zuggtmoy, the Demon Queen of Fungi, with whom the Faceless Lord begrudgingly shares a layer of the Abyss.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

Zuggtmoy's 'blessing' often takes the form of spores that take root in their host and gradually overtake them from the inside - not unlike a cordyceps mushroom in ants. During the gestation period of the fungus, Zuggtmoy cultists gradually develop many physical benefits, such as increased strength and rapid regeneration of wounds.



*Spoiler: Dream: History DC 15*
Show

The location of the wedding sounds like the Araumycos, a massive fungal growth that stretches across much of the Underdark. Its body consists largely of spongy grey fungal tissue that looks much like a brain covering the walls and floor of the cavern, but other symbiotic fungi grow within and around the greater mass.

It could even be said that much of the underground to the southeast of Darklake and Menzoberranzan *is* Araumycos. Where the tunnels end and the organism begins can be difficult to discern. The mysterious Myconids appear to consider the Araumycos to be holy ground.

*Spoiler: Religion DC 15*
Show

The Araumycos is suspected by some theologians to be an Avatar of Psilofyr, an Archfey and the patron deity of the Myconids. 'He' shares the domain of fungi with his rival Zuggtmoy. His primary concern is the benefit of the Myconid species, though he is also known to be surprisingly altruistic - if utterly alien - to those who do not mean his people harm.



*Spoiler: Derro: History*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

Derro are a kind of duergar.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

Derro were once dwarves or duergar, but were driven mad and twisted by foul forces, believed to have once been slaves to the mindflayers not unlike the duergar - but subject to dark experiments. They now live among the duergar as second class citizens or slaves, only barely tolerated by the grey dwarves.


*Spoiler: History DC 15 and Religion DC 20*
Show

The two obscure, twin gods of the derro are Diiranka and Diinkarazan, former members of the dwarven pantheon disowned by Moradin. There are two conflicting stories of the gods' fall to darkness.

One story states that the two gods were jealous after the other dwarven gods cast them out, and sought to create a new type of dwarf. They stole terrible artifacts from the ithillid diety, Ilsensine, who caught them in the act. Diiranka stabbed his brother and left him to the mercy of Ilsensine, fleeing with the artifacts and creating the derro on his own. Diinkarazan was captured and trapped in the Abyss to endure eternal torment, plotting his revenge on his brother and the derro from an Abyssal layer called the Prison of the Mad God, where he is Lord, Prisoner, and sole resident.

The other story likewise states that Diiranka and Diinkarazan stole terrible artifacts from the ithillid deity. However, it was not to steal power, but to break free duergar worshipers who had been captured and enslaved by the mindflayers, and had been transformed into the mad derro by mindflayer experimentation. When they fled, Diinkarazan stayed behind to fend off Ilsensine, and was never betrayed by his brother, instead facing an eternity in the Prison of the Mad God for a selfless sacrifice. Diiranka in turn was able to save the derro, but was driven mad by the dark powers he stole from Ilsensine.

Both the derro and their two gods are quite mad, and often dangerously homicidal.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

*The Fifth Day- Cell*

Borthan considers Dworic's dream for a few moments before speaking up. Did a bit of research into demons for that hunt. On the same layer of the Abyss as Jubilex there is another demon lord- Zuggtmoy, the demon queen of fungi. Can't be a coincidence. He continues working over this in his mind until the doors to the cell open and the new prisoners are shoved in. He is about to say hello to the dwarf woman when he spots the derro. He closes his mouth so fast his teeth clack together painfully. Then he speaks in undercommon, loud and angry. You're puttin HIM in here with US? He spits a curse and stands up from his sitting position before speaking again and heading to get in line. Be careful. All of you. This one can't be predicted.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day*

The dwarf listens as Borthan talks about Juiblex and Zuggtmoy and simply shrugs noncommittally. It's obvious this isn't his area of expertise.

He stands when the call for the workers is made and lines up silently once more. As he sees the newcomers, he instinctively twists his nose in distrust at seeing the derro - a sentiment that is short-lived, seeing the dwarf he hangs his had down listlessly, his feeling of shame returning tenfold. *"Undo her bonds,"* is all he manages to say, to no one in particular.




*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day*

Eldeth stumbles as she's shoved into the cell. She's momentarily grateful when the hood is removed, only to find a derro face staring at her once her eyes adjusted. She takes stock of the prisoners. *"Moradin preserve me,"* she whispers. Derro, Drow and some form of half-drow? She backs away and places her back to a wall, eyes wide, fighting down panic. Her enemies are in here with her!

She finally sees the dwarf with the bloodied hair and tries to get his attention in dwarvish. *"Clansman of whatever your Clan may be, help me! We must get out of here!"*

But her pleas fall on seemingly deaf ears; the older dwarf grunts and refuses to look at her.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day, Cell*

So two demon lords were preying on their minds. Unlikely to be a coincidence. Both sounded distinctly unpleasant, which made her escape - _their_ escape? - all that much more pressing, which is why when the dwarf and derro show up Faedryl is secretly glad. More bodies. They were eight now. Better than before. "I am not entirely sure any of us can be 'predicted' right now." Faedryl responds quietly to Borthan's immediate distrust of the derro. If a malady of madness was afflicting them, then a derro was the least of their problems.
She can't help but be a little put out by the new-dwarf's attitude. Too fresh to the Underdark perhaps. She'd learn soon enough. Or die. Either way. 

Faedryl moves to line up. Not feeding prisoners you're then planning to make work for you was a complete waste of time and effort. It just means they'll do a worse job and then you have to spend time on beating them or they end up in a starving spiral. She understands the idea behind the cruelty, but if they were intended to be additional labour then their efforts were misplaced. This was exactly the sort of needless stupidity she wanted to fix. Enslaving people and putting them to work made sense, but needlessly abusing the slaves for the sake of amusement was just inefficient. A healthy slave did better work than an unhealthy one. It was that simple.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fifth Day, Cell*

"How terribly rude," is all the derro has to say in response to his welcome as he strides past Borthan further into the cell, taking up position against the back wall. The glare of his white eyes shines in the glow of the luminescent fungus as he lowers down to a seated position.

"No Moradin here, dwarfess. Only us," the drow mocks as he leads the work group out. The door is shut behind them, and a scarred and weary looking drow limps up to the door, pushing a tray with bowls of mushroom broth and strips of jerky through a slot in the door.

A deep gnome with a large nose takes the tray and distributes the food, not looking too worried about delivering a plate to the derro lurking in the back of the cell. "Thank you kindly," the creature commends him in undercommon as smooth as his dwarvish.

At last the gnome comes around to Eldeth, taking a seat beside her. There are additional unclaimed portions of rations on the tray, for those who are not back yet. The gnome picks up a bowl of mushroom gruel and holds it out to her. *"Hey there, Red. Name's Jimjar."*

*The Fifth Day, Work Group*

Out they are led, once more down a route familiar to Faedryl - but new to the others. Through the drow guardhouse, past a waterfall and an ornate door, out into an open platform that could pass as a 'common area'. There are many doors surrounding them, as well as another walkway leading down along the cavern wall and a basket watched over by two quaggoth. The one they were all pulled up in, and probably the only way out that didn't involve a daredevil leap down.

Three quaggoth are lined up in the open area, and several tubs and basins of water have been assembled around the open area, as well as buckets, sponges, and washcloths. One of them has a stack of dirty stoneware dishes and metal cutlery piled up next to it. The prisoners recognize it as their own used dishes from the past several days.

"Today, you are going to be doing two jobs," their handler instructs. "You will be cleaning up after yourselves, and you will be giving some of the quaggoth of the outpost a bath."

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Each task is Perception based. A character can contribute to only one task at normal effort.

By exerting themselves, a character can either get Advantage on one task, or divide themselves between two tasks.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day, Work Shift*

Faedryl twiddled her fingers a bit, waking them up from relative inactivity. Back home she cast spells daily, hourly sometimes, to practice and excel, but she'd been unable to while captive. It seemed the magic suppression existed only inside the cell, as she felt the flow of arcane up and down her body, washing over her as she formed the spells in her mind. Thankfully she had some that required no focus, just Faedryl. Just as she's about to begin it occurs to her to communicate _anything at all_ to her fellow prisoners. "I have some magic that will help, though only with the dishes. Regrettably its applicability does not extend to living beings. Once I've done what I can with these however I will help with the quaggoths." It's exceptionally polite, almost too much so. She's putting on airs a little, trying to acquire their cooperation. Her statement said, without question or invitation for further comment, Faedryl kneels down beside the wash basin and begins the process of cleaning it as best she can.

Her spell intonations are melodic, almost musical in nature, flowing from syllable to syllable to a steady, if occasionally interrupted, beat. A trick she'd learned as a child to help her memorise the incantations. Connecting words to music seemed to lodge it deeper into the mind, and so all of her spellcasting from that day forward had an element of musicality to her - much to the annoyance of her family at times. The song helps her get a rhythm going with the cleaning to, letting her progress with what she thinks is a good speed. Not that she's had much experience cleaning dishes. That was slave work.

Once she's done what she can with the dishes, she moves for the much more physical labour of bathing the quaggoths. Unpleasant though it is. She'd make sure to either enslave or kill the quaggoths later. A mild retribution for being forced to lay her hands on them like this. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Using Prestidigitiatiatiton to assist with cleaning dishes:
(1d20+2)[*20*] Advantage: (1d20+2)[*4*]

She'll exert to assist with the quaggoths too:
(1d20+2)[*4*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 1 level of exhaustion
Concentrating on:

Borthan looks from the dishes to the water to the quaggoths. Then to the female drow when she volunteers a magic solution. Magic. That would be useful. He leans down and grabs a sponge, dipping it into the bucket and approaching the nearest quaggoth. "Sounds good. You want to do the dishes, I'll give the kids a bath." He plants his feet, looks the quaggoth in the eye, says "Alright, biggun. Let's wash some big furry monsters." then begins scrubbing him without further words with a firm, dutiful hand. He knows no one is going to enjoy their work today, but if it wasn't done he wouldn't see food tomorrow, so he would tackle the more degrading of the two tasks with real effort. He didn't like the way Dworic had carried the day at mining, and in some ways it was a feeling of competition that led Bort to put his back into it and focus on his task. That, and think of the food that would be waiting for them when they returned. If it would actually be there.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Bort is pushing himself on washing the quaggoths. (1d20+4)[*12*] and (1d20+4)[*21*] for advantage.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day - Work Group*

Dworic nods with some appreciation at the drow's efficient use of magic. He then walks over to the quaggoths, grabbing a bucket and a sponge. He first dabs at his own torn scalp to clean away the blood and prevent any infections. Once satisfied, he starts scrubbing the quaggoths quite hard. Any grumbles are met with a hard stare and a snarl of his own.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Quaggoth Washing: (1d20+3)[*23*]





*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day - Cell*

Eldeth watches with sad disbelief as the other dwarf leaves silently. She looks around and finds a spot to sit away from the more _distasteful_ occupants. When the deep gnome draws near she stiffens a bit but feels that the svirfneblin are likely the least bad of the bunch. *"Eldeth,"* she says in undercommon, taking the offered food. *"Thank you."*

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fifth Day, Cell*

*"I'd ask what ya did to get in, but I'm pretty sure they're just scooping people out of the tunnels right now,"* Jimjar says, nudging Eldeth with his elbow. He nurses the bowl of broth in his own hands and nods towards two more deep gnomes, who look very similar to one another. *"These are Topsy and Turvy. Aaand, what should we call you over there?"* he calls to the derro at the back.

The mustachio'd madman is drinking from the mushroom soup with his eyes closed. Slowly he lowers the bowl to rest in front of his crossed legs. Slowly, again, he brushes the residue out of his meticulously groomed facial hair before he answers. At last he says, "You may call me Buppido."

*The Fifth Day, Work Group*

With a few waves of her hands, Faedryl draws the weave in a miniature symphony. The threads dance around the dishes, sloughing off the sticky or greasy residue with grace and ease. It doesn't take Faedryl long to complete the task, and she turns to apply herself to the quaggoth without letting herself rest.

All three of them begin applying sponge and cloth to the matted, unkempt fur of the creatures. The efforts are met with snarls and twitches as clumps of matted fur are pulled apart, but the drow watching the process click their tongues and the quaggoth remain obediently still, in spite of the glare shooting out of the corners of their eyes. They especially seem to rankle at the proximity of a female drow, and Faedryl finds they shy away often, inhibiting her work.

Drow pass by through one door or another, smugly stopping to observe before going on their way.

*Spoiler: Perception*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

The door to the east of the dish-washing station leads into a kitchen or mess area. The flicker of firelight can be seen, and the smell of food wafts out, torturing the prisoners' empty stomachs.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

A few beds can briefly be seen through the opening and closing doors to south, suggesting a barracks or bunkroom.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

The two doors leading into stalactites are the least used, and thus far only by drow officers, but a glimpse of a quaggoth with a comically undersized broom sweeping the floor under a wooden table can be caught through one.



The other quaggoth watching over the elevator basket let out breathy, growling chuckles as they watch the scene. In the end, the washed quaggoth look at least two shades of stone-grey lighter with all the dust and debris scraped out of their coats. When the work period is over, the two drow observing walk around, performing their inspection. One runs a hand along the washed dishes, testing for specks or traces that remain. The other circles each quaggoth in turn.

"Sufficient," the drow officer states. "But as a penalty for unauthorized use of magic," he continues, mouth twisting into a smirk, "Tomorrow's rations will be cut by precisely one person." The pair of smug drow begin leading the group back to the cell.

*Spoiler: Insight DC 12*
Show

The public display right where the other quaggoth can see appears to be embarrassing. This ironically might be a punishment for the washees as much as the washers, though what their offense is would be anyone's guess.


*Spoiler: History: Quaggoth*
Show

Faedryl treats these DCs as 5 lower.

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

Quaggoth are a race of bestial humanoids kept by the drow as slaves and guard.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

In order to be trained and 'domesticated' a quaggoth needs to be raised by the drow almost from birth for the sole purpose of enslavement. Any life beyond this existence is unknown to those under the boot of the drow.

The slave quaggoth speak a pidgin form of undercommon, as they are never properly taught to speak, only to listen.

'Wild' quaggoth exist in the underdark, and are often brutal and tribal by nature. The only ones that wear clothing are pack leaders, who decorate themselves with marks of office in the form of accessories that are often plundered from victims. Unable to settle down without drow or duergar exterminators arriving soon after, they take up a nomatic lifestyle.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

There are two theories about the origins of the quaggoth. One is that they were bred specifically for the purpose of being drow slaves; while accurate to how to drow treat them, other evidence suggests this is just drow propaganda.

The other is that they once had a kingdom or civilization, but were conquered by the drow and duergar. 


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

The quaggoth kingdom was called Ursadunthar. It was built around conquest and ritual sacrifice, and was believed to have paid homage to Malar, the dark god of beasts and the hunt. Ursadunthar was sacked by the duergar of Gracklstugh, toppling their seat of power. This is believed to be when they scattered into nomadic bands to survive, and were subsequently enslaved by the drow.

The drow propaganda insisting that the drow created the quaggoth accounts for the proven existence of the Ursadunthar ruins by claiming that it was a rebel kingdom founded by escaped slaves and obviously collapsed because of their inherently inferior nature.



*Spoiler: Sleight of Hand*
Show

In addition to the dishes from the prisoners, there are some extra dishes and cutlery that were probably used by the drow.

A DC 16 Sleight of Hand could snag a bit of cutlery from the pile without notice.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day, Work Shift*

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response, emotional or otherwise. That's what they wanted. What _she_ would have wanted, were she in their position. To see the anger or upset, to be back talked or to hear objections. She would give him none of that. The minor indignities and offenses she suffered her now, the rumbling of her stomach, were temporary. Ripples on the river of her life that would be washed away by time's inevitable passage. But she'd dam their rivers once they made their escape. Quick or slow, brutal or efficient, they'd die, and she would live.

But if she had time she'd like to get a little torture in first. Fair was fair, after all. Regardless of how holy or high her fellow prisoners held themselves (information that still had yet to be determined) Faedryl doubts they'd have too many complaints about their captors being given a taste of their own medicine.

She says nothing and makes no comment as they are lead back to the cell.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

*Fifth Day, Work Shift*

Borthan seethes at the vindictive attitude of the drow officer. It just made it all the more obvious that the purpose of these tasks was not to get them done, but to embarrass, degrade, and harass the prisoners. He briefly considers drawing his knife and attempting to slit the smug bastard's throat, but he stays his hand. Not the time nor the place for that yet. But it would come, and he'd be happy when it did. He instead does his best to observe his surroundings as they line up to return to the cell. There better be some food left when they return...

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day - Work Group*

The dwarf shakes his head slowly at the drow's idiocy but says nothing. The gouges on his scalp sting painfully from the sweat he worked up and it's enough to distract the dwarf from his surroundings.




*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Fifth Day - Cell*

Eldeth shifts uneasily when Jimjar nudges her but makes no further move. She waves lightly to the other deep gnomes and manages a stiff nod to the derro. *"Overrun patrol. You?"* She drops her voice as low as she can while still allowing for the others to hear her. *"Do we have any knowledge of the lay of land here? Shift changes?"*

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fifth Day, Cell*

*"Who, me?"* Jimjar asks coyly, looking behind himself at the wall. *"Guess so! Well you see, there was this and that, and you know how drow are. They're kind of allergic to fun."* He waves his hand back and forth in the air noncommittally.

"The outpost's quaggoth den is almost right next to our cell," one of the other deep gnomes speaks up, the one Jimjar claimed was called Topsy. She leans forward to look at Eldeth past the other two.

*"Took some of us to a shrine of Lolth for cleaning yesterday. I think there's something important in the room underneath,"* Jimjar adds.


After a while the others return, the two men with wrinkly pruned fingertips. The food tray sits in front of Jimjar, who offers them a friendly wave upon their entry. *"Come on down, made sure to save some for you fellas and fellette."*

*The Sixth Day*

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

The overhang of rock above, and the wall beneath it, are decorated by swimming aurora patterns. Refracted light from luminescent fungi just beneath the surface of the water that laps at Faedryl's feet and lower legs. She's lying in the sand on the edge of a vast cavern. It's a beach, a shoreline, stretching to either side before an abyss of dark water.

The sound of singing reaches her hears, in soft burbling voices. She recognizes the verses as Deep Speech, in the dialect of the kuo-toa. Following the sounds of her voices, she finds a crowd of them in the shallow water prostrating themselves and bobbing up and down in and out, hands and webbed fingers outstretched.

"Deep below the mucky-muck, dark-darkest water,
There strides Leemooggoogoon, mighty glory Deep Father!
Sacrifices go, sink beneath the mucky-muck!"

Two kuo-toa with pincered staves lead captured drow down into the dark waters, forcing them under and holding them until they drown. 

"Deep Father, Deep Father!
Brings much favor, glory, power!
Rise us far above, crawl no more in the mucky-muck, now!"

A deep rumbling howl echoes through the labyrinthine pillars and tunnels of the Darklake, and the kuo-toa go quiet. Faedryl can see the silhouette of a massive shape in the distance as the drowning drow twitch their final movements and go still. Even looking in the direction of the shape makes Faedryl's vision swim, like the fungal aurora on the wall. Two great glowing lights can be seen, and the glow of faerzress begins to settle across the beach, its touch making Faedryl's hairs bristle and frizzle.

The kuo-toa cheer, bowing down or hopping around as they frantically chant.

"Leemooggoogoon! Leemooggoogoon!"

"Deep Father, Deep Father!"

Faedryl feels herself losing balance as the lights draw nearer. Her vision blurs and she finds herself falling backwards into the sand. Sand that fractures and falls apart, sending her plummeting down into darkness as the fragments sparkle above her like broken glass.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Faedryl must make a DC 14 Sanity save. She may take Disadvantage on the save to gain Advantage on her Religion check to interpret the dream.



*Spoiler: Dworic*
Show

When he wakes up, Dworic's muscles feel stiff and tired. His head itches, and when scratched yields pieces of sickly, bloody looking skin that flake off under his nails. The scratch wounds from the other day don't seem to be healing right.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Dworic recovers 1 Exhaustion as normal, but then suffers 1 Exhaustion again from the onset of an illness.
He has recovered no hit points from his long rest.



Faedryl lie asleep that morning, not waking up. It creaks open inwards, closing in on her corner spot and shutting her in unintentionally - not that her wardens would likely care.

A metal handheld cage covered in airholes is chucked inside, bouncing and clattering in until it skids to a stop at Borthan's feet. Inside of the cage is a light grey mushroom with tiny stubby legs. Not far behind are a male drow and a kuo-toa, both pushed inside with bags over their heads. 

*Spoiler: Dream: History*
Show

Anyone Faedryl tells about the dream can also make the check.
Underdark residents treat the DC as 5 lower. I think that's everyone right now.

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

The vast flooded caverns are known as the Darklake.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

The Darklake acts as a central feature for much of the Northdark. In spite of its name, it is not all one giant cavernous lake, consisting of both large chambers and labyrinthine aquatic tunnels. It rests between the two cities of Menzoberranzan and Blingdenstone, and Gracklstugh. As such, it has great value to both trade and war.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

The kuo-toa village of Sloobudop rests on the southeast edge of the Darklake. For travelers unable to access the darkport of Gracklstugh, kuo-toa ferries are the most reliable way to traverse the Darklake, and thus are vital to travel. Even Gracklstugh sometimes purchases kuo-toa slaves from Sloobudop to act as navigators for their vessels. 

This expertise has kept the kuo-toa largely protected from incursions on their otherwise poorly defended settlement.



*Spoiler: Dream: Religion*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

The kuo-toa are known for their unnaturally fanatical faith, and unpredictable whims. The act of creating a divinity through faith would normally require entire nations of faithful, over years. The faith of kuo-toa, as fickle as it often can be, can do the same in a matter of weeks or even days; with as little as a single village.

This quality of the kuo-toa as 'godmakers' is one major reason they are generally left alone.


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

Twin vicious ape heads glowing with fiendish radiance inside of their wide maws. The mere sight of it causing confusion and warping reality around the viewer. This can only be the Prince of Demons, Demogorgon.

Knowledge of the Prince of Demons and his cults is scarce, and for good cause. Even the sight of his inscribed symbol can cause madness to take root. He is madness and destruction, the essence of the Abyss made manifest. Against this dark power, ignorance is the best protection.

The thought of kuo-toa placing their fanatic faith in a demon lord - particularly one as existentially dangerous as Demogorgon - is a terrifying prospect.



*Spoiler: Kuo-toa*
Show

*Spoiler: Religion or History DC 10*
Show

The kuo-toa are known for their unnaturally fanatical faith, and unpredictable whims. The act of creating a divinity through faith would normally require entire nations of faithful, over years. The faith of kuo-toa, as fickle as it often can be, can do the same in a matter of weeks or even days; with as little as a single village.

This quality of the kuo-toa as 'godmakers' is one major reason they are generally left alone.


*Spoiler: History DC 15 (5 less for Underdark residents)*
Show

The kuo-toa village of Sloobudop rests on the southeast edge of the Darklake. For travelers unable to access the darkport of Gracklstugh, kuo-toa ferries are the most reliable way to traverse the Darklake, and thus are vital to travel. Even Gracklstugh sometimes purchases kuo-toa slaves from Sloobudop to act as navigators for their vessels. 

This expertise has kept the kuo-toa largely protected from incursions on their otherwise poorly defended settlement.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Madness-Induced Coma (4 days remaining) 
Concentrating: On being in a coma

*Fifth Day, Cell*

Just one example of a different way paying off. She'd held her tongue, been as nice as possible, and in return she doesn't starve. Could most drow say they would have done the same? Unlikely. If they could she wouldn't have ended up here in the first place. She feels a warm glow of quiet smugness at this. A small victory. Her belief in the folly of the drow way hadn't wavered at all, but positive reinforcement never hurts. She sits down at the food tray,  "It is appreciated," she says, the closest she can get to actually thanking someone at the moment, and even that sticks in her throat a little. Carefully sectioning off her own portion, she begins to eat, detailing what little she saw of the surrounding areas from the wash-station - the barracks or bunkhouse to the south, where clothes or other unused drow equipment probably end up, and the kitchen to the east, where knives and other improvised weapons, along with food supplies, would be found. 

"Given the lack of supplies coming in, they may stretch thin should their stores be damaged or destroyed," she mutters quietly between chews, "but the short term benefit of that is likely outweighed, since once we've overthrown the prison," - to her there's no question that it will happen. It's a matter of 'when', not 'if', 
"we'll need those supplies ourselves. I don't wish to break out only to starve." The talk of starving is a grim reminder that she's out a food portion tomorrow - her portion, since she lost it. She chews a little bit slower.

*Sixth Day, Cell*

Faedryl's mind snaps awake for a mere moment. Fish. Lake. Sand. Deep-Father. Images and words bombard her mind. She tries to sit up, but any sense of balance or stability leaves her and instead she flops sideways. With her head resting on the cold stone floor her eyes flicker for a few moments as she tries to focus on the logic behind them, on understanding, but whatever hope there was of that slips away. The loss of balance dims her mind, her thoughts scatter, and Faedryl slips out of consciousness again, unable to be woken.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

The cell. It was what he deserved, for his crime, for his madness. The clanging of the metal cage containing the mushroom creature echoes around the cramped area, signalling the arrival of his failure, for that was what he was. What else could he be? The stench of his own disappointment overwhelms his nostrils far more than any smell in the cramped room or its occupants. A stench that would carry all the way to his execution, no doubt. He had little desire to die, but nor could he see any reason to continue on. _Traitor._ _Murderer._ _Madman._ These names and more echo around his mind, around the stifling bag over his head. So many plans, so many ambitions, all brought to ruin in a moment by...what, a brief moment of insanity? It hadn't even been him...he thinks.

Now pushed inside the cell he stumbles slightly. His normally sure and steady feet slip, more from lack of willingness to balance than any physical malady, or even the bag blocking his sight. Now inside, he removes the bag, though those he sees are nothing new. He'd watched them all come to the outpost, alone or in groups. Once their jailer, now jailed with them. He slumps to sitting down, the weight of his unseen yet known crime piling once more against his shoulders. Shoulders that had once strutted proudly and now hunch with the pathetic shame of someone brought low, lost and bereft of all meaning, of drive. He says nothing. Words were meaningless, anything exchanged now would be dust and ash, lost to unknown time when they were all executed. None would remember Sarith, nor any of their conversations here. They were not drow, save the traitor who stayed sleeping and the half-blood, and therefore their deaths were much less of a fall, yet they would all die all the same. Stories cut short, as so many were. His should have been longer, so much longer, yet now he was unable to even muster a sneer at being accommodated with these - and he believed this word was generous - 'people'. It didn't matter anymore though. Nothing did.

Sarith's eyes drift to the floor, unable to bring himself to raise them. He just stares at nothing. Eyes fixed on rock yet looking far beyond it, a gaze towards nothing and seeing nothing, for that was all his future held. He no longer needed to see for he had true clarity of his destination, and that clarity ruined him.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

*The Fifth Day- Cell*

Hey, thanks, Jimbo. I've been thinking of this meal all day. Almost makes these dishpan hands worth it. Borthan takes his portion of food, begins to eat it, then stops and looks at Dworic. Sighing, he stands up, walks over, and puts some of his food on the dwarf's plate. No arguin', biggun. You're hurt, and we'll need your strength. Plus I don't deal with debt easily. He returns to his spot by the door, facing inward for once while he listens to the female drow's words. Once she is done speaking, he says When we get out of here food won't be a problem. As long as you don't mind moss, fungi, and little critters most wouldn't think of as food, I can supply a small army with meals out in the Dark. That is, as long as it suits us to stick together. On second thought, y'all are gonna want to keep well supplied, because I make no promises that I won't be off on my own as soon as I'm given the chance. He punctuates the sentence reversing course by popping a bit of dried meat into his mouth and chewing.

*The Sixth Day*

Bort steps back out of the way of the flying cage, then picks it up, his curiosity peaked. He holds it up to his face, peering into one of the airholes. Then he turns to the door. Much as I appreciate the extra rations, I think this ones a little undercooked, if you get my drift. He sets the cage down with some degree of gentleness, then turns to face the newcomers as their hoods are removed. _Oh crap, another one._ He thinks to himself as the drow male shows his face. He has not, as of yet, noticed anything suspicious about the female drow continuing to sleep.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Distress Spores 
Concentration: -

As the small cage is pushed inside, a faint cloud of spores is emitted. Within your mind, you can suddenly hear a faint wimper, not even a full cry. Is the small cage filled with an infant? you think to yourself, as the sound is clearly linked to it. Was it sound, or something entirely else? You knew you heard it. You can hear a voice in your head, reverberating:

Where am I? Where is Sarith? Can we go home? Can you get me out of here? You are not entirely sure if the voice in your heads is a hallucinations, but it has to be linked to the small mushroom in the cage. It looks around, ending with a short. This room is very full. But we can share it. I won't take up mush-room. Hehehe.

The small fungus giggles mentally.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fifth Day*

"I'm not so sure how wise it is to 'stick together' either..." Topsy adds, when Borthan suggests he'd sooner leave them and go his own way. "We don't exactly know each other. We're not friends. Just people stuck in the same bad situation."

*"You know, the Underdark is a dangerous place to be wandering around alone, would it be so bad to have ol' Jimbo keep you company?"* Jimjar counters, shooting Topsy a playful wink in his casual nonchalance.

"Tch," she lets out a small puff of air through her teeth and rolls her eyes at him. "I think we'll be fine."

"Now," to the surprise of Topsy, Turvy speaks up from beside her unprompted. "I don't know why, but many of us are receiving these... 'visions'. That doesn't happen without a reason and, I mean, shouldn't we work together to figure out why?" his confidence drains out from his voice like a leaking balloon as he continues with a bunch of sets of eyes on him.

*The Sixth Day*

The cell doors are shut and locked, and most of the drow leave this time without any taunts or work orders. Perhaps for later, today. Duskryn comes up to the door and slots the tray of food through. It contains only a roll of bread for each of them (except one missing for Faedryl), a single bowl of mushroom broth, and two filled waterskins.

Removing the bag from his head, the new kuo-toa prisoner looks around with bulging fishy eyes. Taking a slow bow, he introduces himself, "Thoub we meet throubf ill circumsbance, it is a pleasure meeblbng you all." He speaks slowly and clearly, to get around his accent and ensure he is understood. "I am Shuushar."

"So good to meet you, Shuushar. Please, make yourself at home," Buppido stands up from his spot at the other corner of the room and strides past, nudging the two new prisoners out of the way as he collects his bread roll. He stops to take a drink from one of the skins and then calmly returns to his place without further disturbing anyone. The deep gnomes maintain some distance as he goes.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Sixth day - Madness-Induced Coma (4 days remaining) 
Concentrating: On being in a coma

*Fifth Day, Cell*

"The dreams...nightmares...visions, whatever their source, may simply be a local affliction that disappears once we leave. Since the outpost doesn't seem affected, it might be _extremely_ localised." Faedryl states with what she would call moderate confidence. "There's no need for discussion or consensus about future plans now. There are more pressing matters that we face - namely our escape in the first place." The moment the last word leaves her mouth she notices the unintentional rhyme, but does not comment or acknowledge it. "For now, at least, I'd hope we can agree to at least try not to burn down the kitchens if we can help it."




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

Sarith's eyes flicker slightly when he 'hears' his name 'spoken' by the spore creature. He was nothing, but the myconid was _less_ than nothing, as all non-drow were. Yet it knew him. His name, at least. Without him knowing it. Perhaps this creature was the cause of his madness, and if so he would kill it quickly, to take some measure of revenge before his own life was ended. With the most minor of reinvigorations he takes his portion of food before speaking aloud, disregarding the telepathy. Anyone looking at him will clearly see him addressing the box and no one else, his eyes focused with new, albeit minor, intensity. *"How do you know my name? Did you do this to me?"* His voice isn't quite yet at fully accusatory, but there's a definite edge of suspicion and distrust to it.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Rapport Spores 
Concentration: -

You took me, Sarith. the small fungus states. Their attention turning to Borthan, they adress Borthan. We....I am Stool. Can you get me out of here? I could start eating the box, but it is not rotten enough yet. If you cannot help, please put me in the dampest corner you can find. Others have tried eating us but they got very sick.

Meanwhile the small fungus starts pushing its tiny body against the reinforced box.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Sixth Day*

Jimjar goes over to the myconid's cage and looks it over. *"Don't worry, little buddy. It doesn't look like they locked it."* He grabs onto a clasp on the metal cage and undoes it with a few movements, popping the cage door open. The walking mushroom is now clearly visible.

*Spoiler: History: Myconids*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

Myconids are intelligent fungi. They grow into a vaguely humanoid shape over time.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

The myconids are typically peaceful and prefer to keep to themselves in their fungal groves. They have affinities for druid cultures, as they live very closely with their own nature. They are unable to speak, but can understand speech. Myconids can release spores that enable telepathic communication between all those affected, including the mental sharing of images. They use this to communicate with outsiders.

To a myconid, community is more important than anything. Each individual exists for the whole, rather than possessing a sense of self-interest as most sapient species do.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

So the myconid wasn't the cause, it was an effect of his madness. He'd taken it? Why? There might be no reason at all, just as he'd had no reason to kill his victim. *"I see,"* is all he can say in response, sitting back down. He makes no apology, nor does he feel any regret towards the creature. Drow do not apologise, and he had not fallen so far as to change that just yet. If whatever had possessed him had driven him to take this myconid, perhaps it _was_ a threat. If it was a literal possession, Sarith wants to take away the tools of whatever it was that has ruined him so. It wouldn't be hard. The creature was small, easily smashed or cut. 

No, that would be too simple. If the creature was his link to the madness then it needed to stay alive until he could follow that link. That is, if they weren't all executed first, which seemed more likely even with the cave-in slowing things down. He slumps a little, the brief moment of planning giving way to nothing again as he realises that any such thoughts are pointless and lead nowhere. He was a dead man walking. Time wouldn't change that. Nothing would or could.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Rapport Spores 
Concentration: -

You can hear a mental giggling as the fungus measures the now crowded cell. Oh cozy. So much food, and friends too! a giggling almost childish voice appears in your heads. He jumps around, and towards Borthan, ending his frolick in front of him. I am Stool, are you my friend? Your nose is enveloped by the almost sweet scent of death. It is probably meant as a compliment or invitation.

After a few minutes, just before the spores vanish, an innocent question wafts through your mind. Why are you all so silent and sad?

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

*The Fifth Day- Cell*

Borthan looks between Faedryl and Turvy, then nods. If the dream bull puckey continues once we get out of here, I'll stick around till we make it go away. He nods again in finality.

*The Sixth Day- Cell*

Bort watches the small mushroom bounce around with one eyebrow peaked, stifling a laugh. Damn, to think that anything could make him want to laugh in this crappy situation. I'm Borthan Zuek, Stool. That name is so ridiculous I might not even need to make a nickname for you. We're all friends here, at least as long as we're locked in this pit. That's why we're sad and quiet- we don't like being imprisoned. But there's good news- we're all getting out of here. It's just a matter of time, planning, and frenzied effort at the right moment. Bort speaks this aloud even as he thinks it, looking around the room for signs of confirmation, particularly from the new male drow the mushfolk had named Sarith and the derro.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Cell*

Dworic awakens from an uneasy sleep and feels the stiffness in his joints and muscles. When he sits up, his head swims slightly and he lets out a low groan. Scratching his head, he feels the skin flake away and notices that the scratches aren't healing well. He sighs heavily. _Just let me die, Haela,_ he thinks to himself. His moroseness is lessened with the arrival of the new prisoners. He shivers uncomfortably as the tiny myconid spreads its spore, vivid memories of his nightmare come flooding back. He stands to get food when it's delivered. Taking a roll, he breaks off a piece and drops it unceremoniously on Faedryl's lap while walking back to his spot. He nods briefly at the new arrivals and sits once more in sullen, painful silence.




*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Cell*

Eldeth begins to allow herself to hope as the others speak of what they know. Maybe there's a chance they can make it out! She sleeps uneasily, her back against the wall, waking up with every new sound. A scout learns to sleep lightly, and one who doesn't trust her company doubly so.

With the new arrivals, Eldeth's mood sours a bit. Another ebon skin. She can't trust the drow; an escape plan would obviously have to account for splitting the group. Moradin might even see that the drow focus on tracking down their own traitorous kin, leaving her more time to make her way back home. She eyes Dworic carefully, trying to gauge him. It's obvious he's not simply letting himself die and the bruises tell of how hard he may have fought before capture, but he does seem so very defeated. She stands to grab a bread roll when Dworic does so but, finding herself before him, doesn't know what to say. He just walks away. Her jaw drops when she sees him give a piece of bread to the she-drow - to a hated enemy! - but she just snaps her mouth shut and sits back down.

When unsure, observe. So the scout sits back and watches her cellmates.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Sixth Day*

The derro looks up at Borthan when the half-drow's eyes fall upon him. He wears an easy smile on his face as he affirms, "My containment here is only a temporary setback. My... _our_ captors will be made to understand their folly."

"I am a healer. I will gladly blubb any wounds and weariness you may have," the fishman reaches out and plucks one of the rolls from the tray of food, looking around as if for permission. "I noblis we have nobl enoub bood blor eberyone." Indeed, the drow have given one too few pieces of bread. Even considering Faedryl's punishment, of which Borthan and Dworic are aware, they don't seem to have included any rations for the myconid. Then again it seemed perfectly happy to 'eat' in a damp wet corner.

With everyone's rolls claimed, only one remains on the tray, with none of the deep gnomes having one yet. *"Hey twinsies, how about we make a little wager on who'll be picked for next work shift?"* Jimjar offers, looking to the other two deep gnomes. *"I bet the last roll that they'll try to pick the sleeping girl again. If I'm wrong, the last roll is yours'. You don't mind splitting right?"*

Topsy crosses her arms and looks at him with a dour curl to her lip. "Fine. But if she doesn't wake up soon, we're taking her share."

*Spoiler: Insight DC 12*
Show

Even as the cell shuffles around and the new arrivals come inside, even as food is dropped in her lap, Faedryl remains lying motionless on the ground - apart from the occasional grimace or twitch. Her long sleep looks troubled and fraught with nightmares.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

_Escape_. The concept sits in his mind. Absurd. Foolishness. They were outnumbered at least 2-1 by trained soldiers and quaggoth. Without weapons, armour or supplies. Stuck in a cell, manacled and without magic. Their deaths were certain yet they would choose to meet it early? To what end? Maybe it would at least offer some meager entertainment to watch the scene play out though, before his abrupt end. *"If you want information I have some that will be relevant. I served here, before my imprisonment."* He drones in a monotone voice, barely looking up. What they did with the information was on their heads, it mattered little to him. *"Numbers, names, a rough layout."* It wouldn't change their fates, any of them, and he'd already fallen so far what was one more. Loyalty to the drow wouldn't change anything anymore. Not that drow understood 'loyalty' at the best of times.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Not being particularly interested in eating just yet, Stool shimmies over to the sleeping female drow. Listening to her breathing makes him hesitant, but he tries to "taste" the drow regardless. If she was dead, her essence would live on in the myconid, her biomass would strengthen the small one. If she was alive, she might need help.

Stool decides after tasting she was "alive" to summon his armlike extrusions and check the drow thoroughly, everywhere. He bounces up and down next to Shuushar after he says he was a healer, trying to pull the creature over to the drow, pointing at her like a child would point at his motionless mother. 

*Spoiler*
Show

Medicine (1d20+5)[*17*]

----------


## cigaw

*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Cell*

Eldeth's ears perk up at new information, though she is loathe to trust the fishman and the captive drow. She moves a little closer to the kuo-toa. *"Shuushar,"* she says trying to pronounce its name properly. *"If you are a healer then maybe you can check the other dwarf over there? His head seems hurt."*

She then moseys back to her spot, casting curious glances toward the strange little mushroom, and then eyes the drow. *"So. What do you know?"*

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

He considers not answering, for a moment. Dangle the carrot out of reach for his amusement and their frustration. He doesn't though, it would be temporary at best, and the false hope that his information gave them would make it all the sweeter. *"There are a total of 19 drow serving here. It is run by a priestess, Ilvara, who is assisted by a younger priestess, Asha. The rest are male. Ilvara's mate was recently swapped out for a younger, prettier model after the old one got his face scarred, and this has caused tension between them."*

*"On top of the drow there's maybe a dozen quaggoth and several giant spiders, meaning a total force of maybe 35 or 40 bodies in all. A grey ooze lives in the pool of water beneath the outpost, feeding off the waste dumped there."*

On top of the information he gives, Sarith also offers a description of the outpost itself, its layout, entry and exit points, important locations, essentially all the information he has to give. He holds nothing back. All the better to puff up their hopes and see them dashed spectacularly when the inevitability of their death sets in. He ends his information dump with *"I will presume you've noticed that spells cannot be cast inside the cell, however any spell cast outside the confines stays active should you then enter. A minor thing, perhaps, but it has applications."*

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Sixth Day*

Attention drawn by Stool's frantic tugging at his prison rags, Shuushar walks over and kneels down to examine the drow. He carefully reaches down to check her pulse. "She is alive, blibble one. Her pulbse is blublong. Can you, wib gentle filamembs, open ub her eye?"

With Stool's assistance, Shuushar examines Faedryl's eye, which is flickering rapidly. "She is in a deep sleep. Blub her grimace, and her shaking. Is nobb an easy sleep. She is blrbbed in a realm of niblmares." With one webbed hand he jostles her, to no response. "Sleep wiboublb end. I may be able, wib a spell, bloo rouse her." Though then comes the ill news from Sarith, of their magical suppression.

"Another one of us suffering from nightmares," Turvy points out. Though looking over at him shows he is staring at the floor, talking to no one but himself. "And each manifesting a different side effect."

When the redheaded dwarf requests his help, Shuushar stands up from next to Faedryl and nods. He gets up from examining Faedryl and motions his little fungal 'assistant' to come with him. This time it is Stool to whom the cause is obvious.

*Spoiler: Medicine: Dworic Sickness*
Show

Dworic is suffering from a relatively common infection, which has taken root in a set of bloody scratches along his skull. The city dwellers call it Sewer Plague - that's actually a catchall term for any number of infections, but the symptoms are often the same.

Cramps and exhaustion will continue to build unless treated, or fought off by the victim's body. The infection can spread to new wounds, making it difficult to heal. However, taking time to clean the wounds can slow or help stop the infection.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Each day, Dworic has a DC 11 Con save. On a pass he loses one level of Exhaustion, and 'defeats' the infection if Exhaustion drops to 0. On a failure, he gains one level of Exhaustion.

The infection prevents healing from long rests, but not spending hit die to heal during short rests.
Another application of the Medicine skill can help clean the wounds, giving Advantage (or negating the Disadvantage from the Exhaustion) on the daily Con save.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan takes this all in for a moment- the female drow's coma, the male drow's report, Dworic's illness. He sighs. Things were getting heavy in here. Going down to one knee, he presses his palm flat to the stone and takes a deep breath. _All right, Zuek. Just like Ee'char taught you. Speak to the stone and it will speak back to you._ He kneeled there for a full minute, making only a dull humming noise as he attempted to commune and verify the male drow's information.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Using Primeval Awareness to check for humanoids in a 5 mile radius.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Spoiler: Borthan*
Show

His humming comes back to him, reverberating through the stone. He can sense about 32 humanoids throughout the outpost, besides he and the fellow prisoners. Including the 19 subordinates, the commanding priestess, and the quaggoth, that should match the male drow's story.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Stool extrudes his spores once more and telepathically announces his medical procedure. Your wounds are infected, beard friend. We can use water to clean but Stool has a better idea. Myconids can eat rotting things. His stubby 'hands' scrape at the surface of the dwarf's skull, removing the layer of encrusted blood. He then licks his "fingers" and repeats the process. 




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

The maid is hit with two darts and immediately drops like a sack. Her vision blurs and the last thing she sees are two drow bending over her, smiling a vile grin. Suddenly she can see Doctor Donk in her mind's eye. The mule starts hehawing, the sound slowly morphing into a laughter. She turns, and the now-turned-spider mule chitters at her. It approaches her, and injects two fangs into her throat, pumping venom inside. It doesn't hurt but it tickles. All there is left is laughter.

Silly Puck, silly donkey. Everything is so silly.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions:
Concentrating on:

Borthan's humming stops abruptly and he stands up, stretching and cracking his neck. "The former jailer's story rings true. Least the parts about the people. Thirty two people in the outpost, excluding us. We're going to need more help. And more weapons. One stone blade and a couple pieces of rope ain't gonna cut it." That being said, he reached into his pants and yanked out a five foot length of rope from along his thigh. This might work with the element of surprise, but it won't go far against those numbers. Then, just as casually, he threads the rope back down his pant leg to hide it again. Sorry to the ladies of the cave for that bit of tantalizing entertainment. He winks at the unconscious female drow.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Sixth day - Madness-Induced Coma (4 days remaining) 
Concentrating: On being in a coma

*Sixth Day, Cell*

Faedryl remains utterly in her coma, completely unaware of any discussions, prods, pokes or winks that are sent her way.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

*"You can find plenty of weapons and armour in the armoury."* Sarith drones, as if speaking to a child. Truly how far had he fallen to have to explain such basic concepts? Not as far as they might fall when they got themselves killed. Would they be tortured first, or merely fed to the ooze? *"Concoct an escape that doesn't set the whole outpost on alert and you should have free access to them, for a short while at least. The thin bridges and paths make a numerical advantage less impactful, since they cannot bring all the forces to bear at once. 32 quickly turns into 4 when they can't get past each other."* He might be pushing the encouragement a bit far, they might catch onto his sinister plot to watch them all get themselves killed for his amusement if he said much more. *"Or continue working diligently, like the good little prisoners that you are."*

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Cell*

The dwarf barely reacts as the little myconid exudes a cloud of spores, though he still winces as memories of the nightmare surface unbidden.

_Eh, whats one more indignity,_ he thinks to himself, too exhausted to realize that the friendly mushroom is linked to his thoughts.




*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Cell*

Eldeth listens closely as the drow recounts his knowledge of the outpost, closing her eyes and making a mental map of the description. She shakes her head disapprovingly at the half-drows jest but says nothing, silently agreeing with his reasoning. She then turns to Sarith, a quizzical look on her face. *And yet four quickly becomes an overwhelming force unless the drow no longer have access to poisoned crossbow bolts, spiders who can drop from the ceiling or spells. We cannot survive a confrontation, a silent escape is the only way.*

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

Sarith snorts derisively. *"Unless you wish to dive into the hungry ooze below yourself - assuming you survive the fall at all - fighting's your only option."* 'Your'. Not 'Our'. He had no options, except death. *"The only way you're getting out of the outpost is through the guards, who can see in the dark and are, well, guarding. Silence might carry you to the armoury, but beyond that?"* He waves a dismissive hand. *"If you can fight, something I doubt, then you had best prepare to do so."*

----------


## RandomWombat

The discussion and planning are cut short by more footsteps outside the door. One of the drow officers stands outside, looking in at them as though perusing the market. "Female traitor, female dwarf, fish. Get over here." With each 'name' he raps on the cell bars with his knuckles. Looking down to the side, he spies Faedryl still lying unconscious. "Come on. Get her up, quickly. Workers don't get to sleep until the work is done."

Jimjar quietly grins and nudges Topsy, who rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively. "Fine, go on."

Picking up the last roll, Jimjar tears it into three pieces and offers two of them out in a palm towards the twins. Topsy looks at them, then up at him warily. But hunger wins over suspicion and she snatches the two morsels, sharing one with Turvy.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Stool's childish voice reverberates inside your heads. If you want out of here, remember magic is possible outside. I cannot hear, not smell the call of Psilofyr inside here. But it is outside. Battle is bad, sneakiness is better. But I do have magic to punish evil darkelves.

Stool tries to growl, but instead a harmonic hum fills your minds. He postures 'menacingly' in the middle of the cell.



*Spoiler*
Show


*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

-

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

Sarith eyes the female. Even a traitor wouldn't sleep or trance in such a position. They were still drow, and had _some_  dignity. *"A bit too deep in drink last night eh Kronryn?"* He addresses the officer scathingly, *"Open those ale-addled eyes a touch wider, you might see she's not sleeping, she's unconscious. Probably sick. Maybe dying.*" Without moving from his seat he lets out a mirthless chuckle. *"I wonder though, if the Melad died on your watch, do you think Ilvara would put you in here first with the rest of us, or just feed you directly to the spiders?"* The thought amuses him greatly. They'd never gotten on when working together, and even less so now, so any opportunity to needle him would be taken.




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


If this needs a roll:
(1d20+4)[*12*] Intimidate? Or just a +2 if it's more persuasion. It feels more intimidation since it's a subtle threat though, albeit not one carried out by Sarith.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion Level One
Concentrating on:

Borthan eyed the unconcious form of the female drow. Melad. That could be vital information. He briefly considered offering himself up for her work shift. Briefly but thoroughly. But just because they didn't call him today doesn't mean they wouldn't call him tomorrow, and he was already beat. Instead he observed the reaction of the guard to Sarith's question, trying to read meaning from his answers.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 A history check on Melad with little in the way of hope. Borthan only just started working with the Drow recently. The Dwarves knew of him and he didn't try to impersonate gnomes for drop offs. (1d20-1)[*15*] or Discord roll- 4, whichever is worse. Insight check on the guard Sarith is intimidating. (1d20+2)[*21*] or (1d20+2)[*21*], whichever is worse.

----------


## RandomWombat

The drow officer - Kronryn - pales slightly at Sarith's suggestion. It's hard to see the difference, at least for non-drow. But Borthan knows how to tell when these dark elves are sweating under the pressure. "When did she drop?" he asks, looking behind him. "Guards! Bring out the Melad traitor."

Two subordinates open the door and pull the drow woman outside to examine her. Their officer closes and locks the door after they're out.

Standing from where he'd been meditating atop the hard stone, Shuushar approaches the door. "I may be ablublu help. I have magic that could cure her."

*"Ilvara,"* Jimjar enunciates the name with a grin, peering up at the bars of the window. *"Doesn't even need to know about the carelessness that led to her moneymaker getting sick, if you let us cure her ourselves."*

The drow glares daggers into the stone cage, at Sarith and at Jimjar. "Speak the priestess' name without proper reverence again and your tongues will be forfeit, worms," he snarls.

*Spoiler: Borthan Insight*
Show

The drow is definitely shaking in his boots at the idea of garnering this Ilvara's ire. It shouldn't take much more to push him over into complying.


*Spoiler: History: House Melad*
Show

Full-blooded drow (Sarith) treat DCs apart from the last as 5 lower. Faedryl knows all information below DC 20 automatically.

*Spoiler: DC 0*
Show

There was a traitor house that sided against the other drow during the war with the dwarves and deep gnomes - it might have been Melad?


*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

Melad is a drow noble house from Menzoberranzan. Like many others, they are in the business of slavery, and indulge in any number of nefarious and subtle side ventures.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

Led by Matriarch Neeralee Melad, the House is involved in all the typical drow affairs - slaves, subterfuge and spiders. They are best known for their long tradition of priestesses, and their skilled poisonmakers. Yet Lolth's favor has rarely fallen on the House, and they fell from prominence on the Council. Among the Matriarch's greatest personal accomplishments are forming a pact with the black dragon Nago, and enslaving him to serve as her personal bodyguard.

Melad's House symbol resembles a downward-facing spiked key.


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

An order of 'holy' assassins dedicated to Lolth, known as the Black Silk, owe their founding to the previous House Melad Matriarch, Naliae. They are best known for their iconoclastic efforts against other deities and their followers, and they have clashed with the Zhentarim in the latter's attempts to make inroads into the Underdark.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 31/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Cell*

Dworic looks at the drow's unconscious form and a bare wisp of sadness crosses his eyes. She had helped during the cleaning after all.

Dispelling such thoughts, he simply watches on.




*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Cell*

The name Melad sparks memories of scout reports and Hold Enemies and Eldeth grins as the drow squirm. The guards could be making a powerful enemy. Of at least be led to believe so. *"How fascinating it would be if the first prisoner to die under your watch were a drow."* Her voice drips with sarcasm. *"Maybe Matron Mother Neeralee,"* she emphasizes the honorific, *"will seek retribution."*

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Sixth Day*

"Fine," the drow known as Kronryn snaps, opening up the door again and ushering Shuushar out. "Fix her, now."

Hunched forward, the kuo-toa waddles out and kneels beside Faedryl on the hard cave floor. His fishy eyes do not close as he hovers his hands overtop of the prone drow and incants. "Come now from blu dark dream. Reblurn. Be anchored." He repeats, a soft glow falling over her unconscious form.

Faedryl can feel herself being pulled, as if by a broad hand, out of the infinite dark in which she has been floating, deprived of all sensation. Up above a pinprick of light breaks through the blackness. And her eyes flicker open to behold the unblinking eyes of a kuo-toa hunched over her.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: No longer comatose 
Concentrating: --

*Sixth Day, Cell*

The return to the waking world is quick, perhaps faster than she would have liked, but comforts were in short supply. It's a blur when her eyes open, she needs to blink a few times for the reality to settle in. When she finally does see the looming face of Shuushar it takes a remarkable degree of self control not to immediate lash out with fist or flame. She didn't like fish at the best of times. Then a nightmare that was exceedingly fish related. Now one looming over her. She steadies her breath, turning her head left and right. She was still imprisoned - too much to hope that they'd managed an escape while she was lost in the nightmare - but there were new faces. How much time had passed? A few hours? A day? More? Faedryl reaches a hand up to her lips. Dry, but not overly so. Her stomach growled quietly, but not excessively. She knew from her escape what multi-day hunger felt like, and this wasn't it. Not yet, anyway. Hours at most then.

She shuffles away from the fish and sits up, clutching at her head. Out of the cell. Guards around her, fish over her. Either this was some new torture cooked up by the outpost or they'd needed a prisoner to pull her back to the waking world. Faedryl concludes the latter. She gives a nod of acknowledgement - of thanks - to the fish. It's the most she can muster. The actual words _thank you_ passing her lips, to that thing, in this place, is beyond her. Maybe if she wasn't surrounded by drow. There was still a lingering cultural pride that refused to let her lower herself like that. _Lower_. Was it really that? Was expressing thanks really a degradation? She shakes her head again. Not really the time for such musings.

Delicately, as elegantly as she can, and slowly so as not to provoke any reprisals, she stands, cocking an eyebrow at the guards, but saying nothing. She will make _them_ speak first. A small power play, but one to enjoy for the brief moment it lasts.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion Level One
Concentrating on:

Welcome back. You missed a good time, lazybones. Bort smiles at Faedryl in a slightly manic fashion, noting the usefulness of Shuushar. The more useful people they put in this cell, the easier it was going to be to get out of here. _Just a few more, Silvanus. Just a few more, if you please._ he thought.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Sixth Day*

The drow watch carefully as Faedryl gets up, and one of them jostles the fishman with a foot, apparently not wanting to dirty his hands touching it. "Are there any further injuries on her?"

"No, I-"

Before more can he said, the drow officer cuts him off and looks inside the cell. "Then the work shift will continue as planned. She-dwarf, get over here." He opens up the door and looks to Eldeth expectantly.

----------


## cigaw

*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Cell*

Eldeth's lips curl in a sneer as the drow calls her over. _She-dwarf_. Not very creative.

She dusts herself off and, head held high, strides confidently to the door, staring the guard right in the eyes.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Sixth Day - Work Group*

Reaching out, the drow officer grabs a hold of Eldeth's braided hair and yanks painfully downwards, forcing her face towards the stone below. "Learn not to look your masters in the eye, meat." His voice snarls.

The three of them are led out of the room - again before Faedryl can get a chance to eat anything. Hunger is gnawing at her stomach like a ravenous beast, and she feels her guts burning like fire. The smell of cooking food from the kitchen is tortuous as they are led out to the common area yet again. Long strands of spider silk are gathered and laid out.

"Today, you will be weaving strands of silk into rope," their prison guard announces, pointing down. "They will be tested for craftsmanship when you are finished. Well? Get to work."

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Each character will make a Dexterity check to contribute to the crafting of the ropes. As usual, a character can exert for Advantage at the cost of Exhaustion on Day 7. Having been a scout, Eldeth may add her Proficiency. She is not unfamiliar with making rope.

Sleight of Hand may be attempted to slip some of the rope, if someone feels gutsy.

Faedryl must also make a DC 11 Constitution save to withstand hunger, or take Exhaustion from that as well, before her work rolls.


*The Sixth Day - Cell*

While the others are gone, smooth tones inquire from the back of the cell. "I don't suppose anyone has something _sharp_ I could borrow?" the derro asks, opening up his eerie white eyes to peer into the rest of the cell, reflecting the light of the fungi across the walls. Where they're looking in particular is a mystery, perhaps the most unsettling aspect. He reaches up with a hand and runs two fingers along one side of a mustache. The ends have begun to split and frazzle. "I find myself in need of some... work."

*The Seventh Day*

*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

It is dark. D̮͚ͬͪ͆ͭͪ̌͘arker than it sho͚̦͓̬̣̝uld be, a darkness that thwarts even Sarith's superior drow ey̥̖̍̑͌̎͒͋es. It hangs heavy, like a fo̲̓̒g, and he can feel it draped arou̧͚̦͗ͭ̍nd his shoulders. F̝̲ͩͭ̀ͥ͞e̮̲̾̃͜e̶̫̫͉̬͑͊͋͛̅͋͛l͙̣̻͎̞͗̓͌͛ its clạ̵̝͍̝̞̜̎ͦmmy fingers down the p̴̱̝̌̃̍ͣale flesh of his back. Arő̈͐und him are the bl̨̜̠͔͖͐eak, co̯͚̟̮̰͓̲lorless, tw̎̓́istiṅ̘͖̫̙g archite̛̳͒ͯcture̺̰̻̥͚̲̾̍ͫͥ͊ͅs of Menzober̂ͦͫͦranzan. Fine tapestries swim with patterns that make no sense, ĺ̢͔̦̠̆ͭͬikè̟̈ grey quickš̙̰̣̣̌and s̺̅̄̊͛ͩ̾ͫliding around beneath great twirling fingers.

There are two paths down this hallway. One a head, and one behind. Tiny flecks of light dance in the air, and he feels a buzz crawl over his flesh. The telltale hum of faerzress. He can feel himself torn.

In each direction, the only spots of color in this dismal place. Green in one, and orange in the other.

His feet refuse to move, feeling glued to the spot. But he can feel one word, pounding in his mind, pounding against his skull.

N̝̪̘̿̑ͣ͊̆͋e̷̞͈͌͌̎̒̚v̺̣̙̳͘e̖͕̞̩̮ͤ̏ͨr̭̮̠̙̺̲̆͋̑̒̎̚  ̩l̛͉̆͐̿̉̍i̠̪͍̪̤̰̰ͨ͒͌g̟͔̖͇̬͒hͤ̆ṭ͓̏̂ͣͥ.̻̿̒ͪ̅̎ͭ̇͜ͅ

And he wakes.


Footsteps outside clap against the stone, stirring some of the early risers or light sleepers from their slumber. More than usual again, including the scraping claws of a quaggoth against the stone. Looking out through the bars, they can see two shapes. One the hulking, pale blue shape of a northern orc, being led along by the quaggoth. He is grumbling and struggling against the grip, visibly drugged much as Dworic had been. As the door opens up, he is shoved in first.

Nilvae is pulled ahead roughly and dragged towards the same door. Her vision is swimming, like looking at the world through wavy, blown glass. The colors of glowing fungi inside the room dance and leave trails in the air. The drugs in her system are not as potent as those pacifying the orc, who turns and slams his fists against the door even as it is closed behind them. The large tree trunk arms slap against the metal like noodles, with no power behind them. A defeated grunt of something in orcish escapes under his breath.

The shapes of her companions had fallen off behind them, somewhere else in this place.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: --

*Sixth Day, Work Shift*

Her stomach was gnawing at her again, but their task today was at least one that didn't involve heavy labour. As she sits she takes up the spider silk and threads it around her fingers. Familiar and comforting, in a way that is both welcome and melancholic. Idle afternoons weaving with her sisters. Gone forever. Even when she succeeds - because she _will_ succeed, there was no other option - she wouldn't get those days back. The material is deeply familiar to her though, and she finds it quite simple to return to rote memory. She pushes the distraction of her gnawing belly and its constant hunger pangs away, instead focusing on the task in front of her, letting her eyes unfocus as her hands twist and curl the silk around itself. She didn't need to look, and in fact it was easier if she didn't. Looking would make her critical, make her doubt. Times like this her brain could switch off, if only for a while. All the better to forget about her burning desire for food that smelled oh-so-good. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Even with disadvantage, she rolled a *20* (18+2), per discord.



*Seventh Day, Cell*

Faedryl finds herself torn by the new visitors - another half-elf, though this one without even the decency to have a drop of drow in them by her look. Probably less useful than the thinblood. And an orc who was apparently all bluster and little bite, going off his feeble smash against the door, though she wasn't exactly in top shape either. Assuming they didn't fall victim to the cell's madness, maybe they'd prove themselves more useful than her initial expectations. At the very least the orc had more spirit than the pathetic male they'd been saddled with. Of all the drow they could end up imprisoned with, it was one who had given up to despair. She darts her eyes across to Sarith, still in the throes of sleep, before back to the newcomers. She wasn't one for speaking for, or introductions, or welcoming, or niceties. She'd had people do all that for her, or never needed to at all. Something...light then. "Welcome to our home," she drawls at them, gesturing with one hand at the wonderful expanse of cave around them. "Planning on staying long?"




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell*

*"Why bother? Want to look good for your execution?"* Sarith retorts, full monotony in his voice. *"The spiders won't eat you any faster if you've got a haircut."* A fast death was all they could hope for. A swift exit from this plane, and then hopefully a better existence in the next. Maybe one where his failures would not be compounded upon. But then, likely not. As a failure he was not destined for any afterlife worth speaking of. No, he would be consumed in the pits by Lolth's servants, and then his spirit would descend to be consumed a second time, and likely not quickly. He lets out a deep sigh, realising just how pointless it all was all over again. Pointless piled upon pointless. 

*Seventh Day, Cell*

Sarith wakes uncomfortably, unpleasantly, unhappily. But then that was his existence now. Uncomfortable, unpleasant, unhappy. Even while trying to trance he was denied proper rest, instead forced into some maddening dream. *"Neverlight,"* he murmurs to himself, though when he says it aloud it doesn't quite have the same tone to it that it had in the nightmare. He rolls his tongue and flexes his throat, muttering the word over and over trying different intonations, mouth shapes, tongue movements, but none seem to fully grasp the way it was said. Whatever it was he is keenly aware once more that he is insufficient, now apparently unable to even properly communicate the things he had seen. All that education and he can't even put images and sounds into words. Pathetic. Truly so. He can't bare to look down at himself any longer, and finally raises his eyes, spotting two new faces, both of which the Melad was addressing. She had an angle - she was a female, of *course* she had an angle, though what it was he couldn't see. Surely she didn't plan to escape with this gang of misfits, rejects and deviants? To what end? She would be hunted. A phrase he found himself repeating, both to himself and to others, bubbles up once more in his mind. _Why bother?_ What could she possibly see as worth the effort now? She had lost it all. More than he had lost, even, and yet she seemed to not at all concerned by it.

Quietly ruminating on this, he realises something: He hates her a little for that.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

The half-elf's head was spinning and slowly accustoming itself to the dark dank environment of the very crowded cell. She looked around, immediately realizing just how many creatures where in here. Most stayed silent, quite a few busy with themselves, as the drow female of all opened a conversation. She, rather than Borthan, who was caught here too, so at least he wasn't actively betraying her.

Where is my donkey? she blurts out before regaining her composure, and answering the question. It was too long since she had real human contact. Polite ones, not pragmatic ruffians like the half-drow headhunter. She puts up a smile and says: I am not sure. Do you have any plans on leaving, ilharess*? adressing Faedryl like nobility. If you pardon the insinuation but you do not look like you are used to hard labor, but even if the dwarves look more hardy than you I think we all have an interest in leaving here. If I judge the amount of people and other creatures in this cell. she nudges the small mushroom already at her feet it is looking as if the drow would orchestrate our sudden departure by in



*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Having learned to pretend to be caught in his cage whenever the guards approached, Stool openly communicated telepathically that he was open to help in any way possible.

He stands in the middle, extruding his rapport spores to be inhaled by everyone. Sorry for sporey air. We should continue this talk in mind, not mouth. Pale-face elf is right, but we have to take a chance. Our physical and mental health is getting worse, some of us will die sooner than later in here. It would make Stool sad to have to eat their bodies.

Despite a grim subject, Stool's voice reverberates happily in your head.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion Level One
Concentrating on:

*The Sixth Day- Cell*

Borthan looks up at the derro, flummoxed at the very idea of giving him something sharp. Maybe as a last resort when the time for the breakout came, when he had a piece of iron in each hand, but certainly not now. Thankfully, for once his wits came up with a more political answer. "Guards might notice if we all look good and well trimmed. Once we get out of here I'll personally find you somethin' you can use to barber yourself, Derro."

*The Seventh Day- Cell*

Bort moves out of the way of the door just in time to escape being squashed by the orc pushing his way through. When the next newcomer arrives, he groans audibly and covers his face with his hand. Damnit, Nilvae, I told you to RUN. Maybe if you didn't have a small zoo behind you you could have gotten away! He stands and moves over to her, looking into her eyes with no sense of tact. Poisoned. You better sit down. They don't normally call first dayers out for workshift, but I learned the hard way never to underestimate the mercy of the Drow. He extends a hand to the paler half-elf, offering to keep her steady. She did pay him, after all, so he felt some obligation to her comfort. Turning to the myconid, he nods in agreement and focuses on thinking his words without saying them. _Getting pretty full up in here. Can't fit too many more prisoners in here without stacking them tall ways. Nows about the time I think we all sit down, come together, explain what we're capable of, and let our more discerning minds come up with an escape plan. Anyone opposed? Oh, and we should introduce. Funny as it is to call you fat-blood, something a bit more personal than Melad would be nice_ He looks at Faedryl for this last bit, as they have never been properly introduced.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Exhaustion is gone on the seventh day.

----------


## cigaw

*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day - Work Group*

Eldeth bites her tongue when the drow yanks her hair, her face contorting in rage. _I will make you pay, ebonskin,_ is the only thought coursing through her brain. Before stepping out, she glances back inside and meets Dworic's even gaze. The older dwarf nods at her and the meaning is plain - we owe them a debt of pain.

She takes out her frustration and anger in her work, much like she has in the past. Twist and turn and over and turn and twist and turn and over and turn goes the mantra in her head hour in and hour out. She sees nothing else and, at the end, has a nice length of rope to show for it, as well as calloused fingers and an aching back.
*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rope roll: *18* (from Discord, including exerting for Advantage.) Hopefully Fish Man can help.


*Seventh Day - Cell*

Eldeth wakes exhausted, but she grins and bears it as usual - lack of rest is normal for a scout. She sits beside Dworic in silence for a long moment, feeling the rock beneath her and the comfort of being near another dwarf, despite the presence of less comforting elements in the cell. When she speaks, her voice is low and conveys unusual softness for Dwarvish. *"I do not know how you came to be here or what your affiliations may be. My scouting party was ambushed and I've left a family in Gauntlgrym. I must return to them. By Moradin, I will return to them. I hope we can join forces, kinsman. Little trust can be had in this group."*

She looks at the older dwarf, a hopeful glint in her eyes.




*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day - Cell*

Dworic wakes up for the first time feeling refreshed, despite uneasy sleep. The gouges and bruises healing nicely, his mood lightens for a moment. He rolls upright and stretches renewed muscles, loudly popping myriad joints. He barely looks up when Eldeth sits beside him and considers her words carefully for almost an eternity before replying in rumbling Dwarvish. *"I don't know if we can make it out,"* he says dejectedly, but suddenly brightens up as if taken by inspiration. *"But maybe we can get you out. Maybe we can get you back to Gauntlgrym,"* he says with a look of determination - the first in a very long time. _And maybe I will finally find my end. Protecting another dwarf's escape might bring me redemption._

When the newcomers arrive, Dworic looks on curiously, noting the fact that Bort knows the half-elf. He takes stock of the orc as well. That one might be trouble.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: --
*Seventh Day, Cell*

The half-bloods knew each other. Well, she shouldn't be too surprised by that. Birds of a feather. Faedryl sucks in air in displeasure as the myconid unleashes another wave of spores on them. She didn't trust _anything_ that forced its way into her head. Grimoires, nightmares or mushrooms, they were all the same to her. She couldn't deny that it made sense to continue the conversation silently though, much as she disagreed with the manner in which it was prompted. _"Faedryl Melad, Fifth Daughter and Eighth Child of Matriarch Ahlysra Melad. Once a rising star, now on my way to the capital for execution as an example. Or I would be, if we weren't all going to escape."_ She speaks back telepathically, her tone clearly lacking in any pride in her titles at this point, instead they're delivered with a sardonic tone of criticism. Faedryl looks around the collected prisoners. It might be enough. It might not be. But the mushroom was correct - they were only due to get weaker the longer they stayed, or risk some being thrown to the ooze to 'free up space'. 

_"If we're doing this, we should do it when we're at our strongest. Tomorrow, after the work shift?"_ It's a question, not an order. She shifts in her 'seat' on the floor. If they wanted to start this right, Duskryn's 'open door' would be needed, so she'd need to get the message to him somehow. On slightly wobbly legs she stands, looking out the door's small opening to see if she can spot the Priestess-hating 'traitor'. 




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Seventh Day, Cell*

Sarith keeps his mouth - and mind - shut at Faedryl's suggestion of escape tomorrow. They were really still going for this, despite everything. They really believed they'd make it out of an entire drow outpost with nothing more than a few scavenged 'weapons', if they could even be called that, against an organised drow force lead by priestesses? With quaggoth support? Foolishness. He thinks, for a moment, about selling them out, telling the guards of the ill-conceived attempt and thwarting it before it starts. No, it wouldn't help. A traitor once, a traitor still. It wouldn't gain him any reprieve from his end. He should let it play out, watch them all fail, and let the encroaching storm of death wash over him. It was his only choice at this stage.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

The tiny myconid thinks the loudest, which is odd since he appears very meek and tiny in actual 'person'. _Stool is blessed with endurance, and is in tune with the fungal miasma. I pull from nature, though not every aspect serves me. Give me a bit of protection, and a wooden plank and I will be a warrior and a priest._

The small mushroom meanders over to the used chamber pot everyone shares and puts it on top of its head, having no issue with its contents. It fits as if it were a helmet. It is disgusting, silly and all around a bizarre sight. 




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Voices in her head, again. But these are not laughing, and Nilvae feels the voices are connected to the presence, to the people around her. Still a bit perturbed, she enjoys the help of Borthan. Thank you, Bort. Steadying herself, she sits down cross-legged, trying to access her arcane powers. Her face distorts a bit, but the cage's magic pushes back. She shortly hears the whispers of a dozen rats but then it is silenced. This cell is imprisoning magic? she asks rhetorically. 

_I am of no use inside here. I could talk to the guards to maybe leave your cell, but I feel my chances of escaping alone are poor, now that they know I can use magic. If I am to serve as a personal servant to a noble drow, I feel they would mutilate my ability to incant magic. I am exhausted as well, Faedryl, though I assume this is nothing compared to your suffering. Assuming the work shifts are exhausting I would say before or during is better, unless the work camp is inescapable?

Also I am Nilvae, friend to animals, and to fey._

She concludes with a small bow, expecting the others to introduce themselves mentally as well.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Sixth Day, Cell*

At Borthan's refusal, the derro breathes out his nose in an exaggerated sigh, but waves his hand in front of him. "Prison is no excuse to live so... _uncivilized_," his voice drawls. White eyes glaring out into the cell - it is impossible to tell if the glare is intentional or not - he turns his head towards Sarith at the far end.

"Such a sad sap. You would rather be caged with the spiders, I am sure... What did you do to get thrown in here with _me_," Buppido asks, a faint trickle of venom dribbling down into his otherwise steady and perfectly pitched voice.

*The Sixth Day, Work Group*

Between the practiced ease of the two ladies in ropemaking, they swiftly work through the pile of silk. Shuushar's ropemaking is slow and ponderous, as he rocks back and forth in his seated position with a calm and content look on his face. He does not seem concerned about meeting the expectations of their captors.

All the same, the task is soon finished and the drow come to inspect their work. They tie the rope around rocks and swing it in the air to test the tensile strength and quality. "And without using your magic this time. It appears I have no excuse to punish you today, traitor," Kronryn takes Faedryl by the arm and pulls her into a standing position. The three prisoners are led back to the cell and unceremoniously dumped inside.

*The Seventh Day, Cell*

"You should just knock that one out. She sings nonstop," one of the drow outside the cell points at Nilvae, before the trio of prison guards and their pet quaggoth file away. They do not bother to answer the question of her donkey.

Duskryn comes to the door, as everyone gathers around in expectation of food, giving the prime opportunity for Stool to puff out spores upon the cell's entire population. Topsy and Turvy react with immediate suspicion, drawing back from the cloud and glaring at the mushroom. _I do not appreciate doing this without our permission,_ the female gnome's thoughts lash out, chastising the myconid. _But we do need to plan. Fine. I am Topsy, and my brother is Turvy._ Her brother's thoughts are flurried, wild, and hyperactive.

*Spoiler: Insight DC12*
Show

Those with keen minds are able to catch the word _Rat_ repeated over and over in Turvy's mind, which he always snuffs out with a new thought immediately after.


Telepathic introductions are made for most of the inhabitants: Shuushar's smooth thoughts flow clearly and evenly, *Jimjar*'s ring with playful mischief, and Buppido's carry an uncomfortable dissonant reverb despite his polite and formal introduction.

The tray slides in, with nothing but eleven rolls of bread. "Food supplies are running thin," he whispers through the bars. "They may start selecting prisoners soon to... _help with the cooking_," the scarred and crippled drow chuckles darkly.

There is no introduction from the second of their newest cellmates. Ignorant to the spores' effects, the orc's thoughts are muddled by the poison, but made clear through a mantra echoing out from his mind: *Food*. In a drunken haze, he grabs two of the dinner rolls for himself and stuffs them into his gaping mouth. He seems prepared to grab more if not stopped.

*Spoiler: Stool*
Show

Stool obtains a suit of wooden 'Hide Armor' while wearing the bucket.

----------


## Amnestic

[QUOTE=Amnestic;24885463]
*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: --

*Sixth Day, Cell (After Workshift)*

At least they'd be fed properly tomorrow, there was that at least. She's shoved into the cell roughly and finally spots the newcomers of the day - the fish, a myconid, and...a drow. Another like her, perhaps? One who saw the follies of drow society and received punishment for it? He wasn't one she knew, that much was clear. Faedryl approaches him, sat on the floor in a corner to himself, and sits in front of him crosslegged, her red eyes meeting his. Older than she was, she determined. Military trained from the scars and callouses on his hands. No spark in his eyes though. If he was an idealist, something had made him lose it. She speaks first, a whisper not for fear of being overheard - the cell wasn't large enough for that to ever be a real concern they could address with the number of people here - but rather to signify it wasn't a conversation intended for everyone. They speak in Elvish, their drow dialect clearly coming through.

*Spoiler: Faedryl and Sarith Conversation*
Show


"Name?" His eyes gaze into hers, and it takes a few moments of parted lips for him to respond. 
*"Sarith Kzerkarit. You are Faedryl Melad."* He knew who she was then. Meaning either the guards had told him or...
"You were stationed here?" Not a definitive assertion, just an educated guess. She hadn't been privy to the events of the 'negotiation' while in a coma, after all.
*"Yes. And now I am a prisoner, bound for the pits just as you."* He sighs, his voice bereft of hope or energy. He was already less than what she'd hoped for. There was no fire in his belly, no desire, he'd given up. She frowns, and he continues to speak. *"You plan to die in an ill-fated escape attempt."* The others had been talking without her, it seems. She shouldn't be too surprised, if they'd 'trusted' her enough to let her in on any escape plans, then 'trusting' Sarith wasn't a great stretch.
"I don't plan to die at all," she retorts swiftly, cutting off any further negative words before he can speak them. "Our escape will be successful, and I will continue to live." Sarith lets out a mirthless laugh. 
*"You really believe that? You have nothing Faedryl,"* he stresses only using her first name, the implication clear to them both. *"What could you possibly expect to accomplish even if you overpower the outpost? Even if you somehow aren't killed in the attempt? You'll be hunted down ruthlessly. You have no family. You have no support. You're all alone. And you will die alone. As we all will."* He was right, in a way. She had lost everything and had ended up with nothing, not even her trusted spellbook. She sniffs in defiance. He wasn't right about everything.
"I have my life, Sarith. It's still mine, as are my skill and spells. I am still Drow, not some mewling gnome crying because he can no longer suckle at the teat." Her tone was harsh, derogatory, and clearly intended to belittle. She'd seen drow prisoners before, those who - like her - had fallen foul of the Matrons or committed a crime, but none ever so pathetic as Sarith was being. It was as if any pride or drive had left him. He was her opposite, completely and totally. "Family or not, imprisoned or not, I will find the path towards my goal and I will follow it. I will _make_ the path if I have to." 
*"And what goal is that?"* Faedryl bites down on her lower lip, hesitation bubbling for just a moment, but she wasn't deterred. She takes a deep breath, speaking her next words with full conviction. Shame of the subject wouldn't inspire anyone.
"The reformation of the drow. I've seen things you wouldn't believe, worlds and peoples beyond count, and when I touched that I saw the truth of the drow - that we will never succeed as we are. We're destined to fail, unless we change." He laughs again, louder, a bit more amused this time, and any hope that he might see she was right drains away from Faedryl. Even having ended up here, he still clung to the current system. He still believed that it was 'right' even when he was on the verge of it executing him. She doesn't laugh back, it's not funny to her. All she feels at him in that moment is pity.
*"And you're going to do that from inside this cell? Change society one prisoner at a time?"* His tone is as mocking as monotony can get. She stands, bringing an end to their discussion. 
"I didn't expect words to work so easily, not on one as lot as you, but if you follow me, you'll see my truth soon enough." She shuffles away to a separate edge of the cell, leaving Sarith to himself. She was mad. Mad as any of them. But...but he didn't have anything else. No one else. He shuts his eyes from the world, from everything. Let her try then. He'd watch, and when her she claims her last breath he'd get the final word. He would be able to tell her she failed, and that it was all for nothing. Everything would always be for nothing.



*Seventh Day, Cell*

"We do it tomorrow." Faedryl whispers back to Duskryn hurriedly. "After the workshift." No further words need to be exchanged between them, so Faedryl turns away, spotting the orc scarfing down all their food. She was still hungry, hadn't eaten yesterday, and the anticipation of getting free was mounting in her. Black inky liquid spreads into the sclera of her eyes as her mind lashes out, trying to shove the orc back into the wall. Even if it doesn't work, the effort should get his attention. "That food's for us all _utschut,_" she slips into deep speech without even noticing. She takes the opportunity to scoop up a single bread roll for herself. Long past due. "If you want to live past tomorrow you'll work with us."


*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Faedryl really is going to shove here using her telekinesis - orcyboy needs to succeed on a DC14 strength save or be pushed 'back' 5 feet.

Also utschut means 'scum'. She's not really herself right now you know.






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Sixth Day, Cell (During Workshift)*

*"What does it matter? Will knowing my crime bring you some solace? Satisfaction? I will not share the details with you, leave me to my thoughts."* Sarith snaps back, curling up on himself. Would it bring him resolution to tell others of something he couldn't remember? No, it would only bring scorn on himself, and he had quite enough of that already, he didn't need any more external mockery.

*Seventh Day, Cell*

Sarith doesn't intervene in the 'dispute' between the Melad and the orc, but he does watch, quietly, eyes burning as she continues to _act._ To _intervene_ instead of letting the tide of death sweep over them all. He purses his lips, biting commentary on his tongue, but lets it roll back into his throat. Leave her to it. It made no difference to him.

----------


## RandomWombat

Faedryl's mental force shoves the orc into the wall and he grunts from the impact, pushing off and whirling around in search for what shoved him. His gaze settles on Faedryl, and it's not clear if he really understands her words - even without the drugs, orcs were never the sharpest javelins in the quiver. But it's clear he understands the hostility behind them. *"You- wh-"* he stumbles over his words as he stumbles over his feet, taking a wide swinging haymaker at Faedryl. She is able to duck beneath the swing, and his fist rams into the wall hard, causing him to growl and clutch his knuckle.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Stool is almost kicked out of his bucket 'armor' from the force of both the haymaker and the psychic thrust. STOOOOP! Please don't hurt anyone. he shouts mentally clinging to the chest of the huge orc extruding another cloud of spores, this time a dark grey one.

*Spoiler*
Show

Pacifying Spores: DC 13 Con Save or stunned for a minute. Save each turn. 





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

And they call me mad. Nilvae comments, this time vocally. Just stop, all of you. This is what they want. We fight each other, they want us divided, not united. I know I am here the shortest, and I do not know how bad it can be in here, but we cannot punch each other, with mind or fist.

She turns to Faedryl, with her bread roll in hand. _Take my share. You need it more than I do. And develop some sense of community, all of you. We need each other._ she messages Faedryl. She then turns to the orc, with a bit of safety distance*. You are confused, drugged and beaten. But I feel your pride has taken the worst brunt of damage. Hurting feeble women is not helping your reputation nor your situation. Stop it.

*Spoiler*
Show

*distance in such a sense that I prepare the dodge action.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

*Sixth Day- Cell*

Borthan keeps quiet during the exchange between the two drow, but keeps his eyes on them. As ironic as it was based on his heritage, the dark elves were the underdark species that Borthan was least familiar with. He'd avoided them due to a healthy fear of their wicked, treacherous ways that the Gray Dwarves had instilled in him from a young age. He'd just begun hunting for them when he was first captured turning in a mark. He spoke their language, but he'd learned how from the dueregar as well. Still, he understood enough. One without hope, and one with spirit. Hopelessness was next to uselessness but spirit was needed to make this escape work. As the two finished their conversation, he spoke a few carefully chosen words in elvish, just loud enough for the room to hear clearly. Little change never hurt nobody. The cells certainly could use work. 

*The Seventh Day- Cell*

Borthan advances quickly towards the orc and Faedryl, moving past Nilvae and attempting to interpose himself between the noble drow the orc. Alright, the first one's free but there won't be a round two. Not in this cave.. He would purposefully make himself a small target by turning sideways, arms down, ready in a slight crouch so that in an instant he can drop down and grab the knife. He hopes he doesn't have to because a secret knife is only useful if it is a secret, and wounds on the orc would probably tip off the guards. Still, he didn't intend to allow the brute to ruin what they'd been working toward. Take a few punches to the face, maybe, but not ruin the escape. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Providing advantage on someone's check to get Ront to back down.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: --

*Seventh Day, Cell*

Faedyl leaves the talking to - wait, was she just referred to as _feeble?_ She'd remember that - Nilvae. Chances are whatever she said at this point it would only serve to make things worse. Drow weren't exactly well trusted, and for good reason. Still, she won't be caught unawares, and tenses herself for another approach by the orc in case words aren't enough.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Ready* another telekinetic shove. Trigger: Orc moves to attack again. She'll shove him sideways, to throw him off balance which mechanically doesn't do much but it's satisfying either way.

----------


## RandomWombat

The cloud of spores causes the orc to sneeze, and he pushes the small mushroom away with his foot. Baring pointed tusks and fierce teeth, the hulking orc looks down at Borthan. Even in his addled eyes, Borthan can see the orc is taking measure of him. For one of elven heritage, Borthan is not a small or slim man. The orc grunts and turns away, breaking eye contact first. He pushes gruffly past Nilvae. *"Need real food. Not little... bread balls,"* the orc complains as he finds a corner of his own, warily giving the derro at the back of the room his space when pale white eyes fail to break and look away first.

*"Glad we got that sorted out,"* Jimjar smiles, moving over to where the food is. Duskryn apparently gets tired of waiting with the tray held out and drops it to walk away, the gnome gambler sliding over just in time to catch it and keep it steady. *"It's not very much. Maybe some of us can split a few?"* he suggests.

----------


## cigaw

*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day - Cell*

Still seated, Eldeth watches the spectacle before her. Tensions were running high and now with an orc added in to the mix she felt even less at ease. She shakes her head, chuckling at how the big bad orc cowed before the drow and half-drow. Her chuckle becomes louder as Nilvae mentions community. *"Hah! Community! Two drow who might well turn on us at the prospect of earning their demon goddess' favor back, a brute cowed by a mushroom and a motley crew of underdark races does not a community make. At best an uneasy alliance and the sooner I am gone from here and back to my folk the better it is."*




*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day - Cell*

Dworic's muscles tense momentarily as conflict begins, but he relaxes once tensions die down once again. He stands, walks over to the bread rolls and takes one, splitting it and handing half to Eldeth. *"We can split one,"* he rumbles nodding agreement with Jimjar. *"If we are to get out, we must work together."* His piece said, he sits and chews his bread slowly and methodically.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

I understand your concern, lady dwarf, but as far as I know no drow inside this cell is particularly devout or even a priest of their demons. They might be other allegiances at play, but at this point I take an ally bathed in abyssal fire rather than no ally at all. Nilvae chuckles brightly. _Besides; you don't know if I don't serve the darkest gods in here, feeding you to the beasts I befriend.

We can parts ways when we escape. In fact we might be forced to, to split their attention_. the final few sentences are thought again.




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Stool looks in awe at the orc, that just coughed up his spores and shrugged them off like it was nothing. _You are sturdy one. Strong one. If we submit to you, can you lead us out of here?_ this thoughts thrust into the orc's head. The apparent feces running down Stool's face like a heavily gelled combover of dark hair makes the small myconid not really convincing.

You don't like me being in your head, do you?

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: --

*Seventh Day, Cell*

Faedryl drops from her 'fighting' stance (mostly being ready to dodge, she doesn't think her fists would do her any good here) as calm returns, if it could be called that. With a small, polite smile and a small wave she rejects Nilvae's offer, gesturing to the bread she'd managed to grab in the chaos for herself. "I don't think any of us are under any illusion this is anything but an alliance of brief convenience." Faedryl says, "I'm not your friend. I'm not your family. But none of us want to die here, so in the meantime," she takes a small nibble of the bread she took. It'd have to last. She nods at Dworic, "together, for now. Until we can all eat as much as we'd like."

----------


## RandomWombat

At Dworic's acceptance of his idea, Jimjar smiles and offers the surly dwarf a grateful nod. *The right idea, my friend. Fortune has ferried us to one another - we would be fools to fold on such a fortuitous draw!* his thoughts resonate through the psychic connection. Taking a bun, Jimjar splits it and offers half to Nilvae, even though she never reached for one herself. *"Here you are, miss. You will need your strength to recover from whatever they dosed you with."*

*In my head?* the orc's thoughts rumble and churn, struggling to stay coherent. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at Stool. *"What are you about mushroom?"* And he snarls, pointing at Eldeth. *"Not cowed by tiny mushroom! Stupid dwarf."*

It's a while before any of the guards come around. Perhaps their captors have started running out of tasks for them. But no - no such luck. Kronryn rears his ugly head again - though compared to Duskryn, his ugliness is masked below the surface. "Trash male, he-dwarf, mutt meat. Get up and line up. Everyone else back."

----------


## cigaw

*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day - Cell*

*"Humph,"* Eldeth snorts at Nilvae's response. *"The best of your knowledge spans but an hour. And if you think that it takes a devoted priest of Lolth to commit atrocities in her name then you haven't been around the dark elves long enough."*




*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day - Cell*

Dworic listens listlessly at the exchange, but does nod acknowledgment back at Faedryl. Once the jailor summons the work crew interrupting the discussion - mental as it may be - he stands and briefly lays a reassuring hand on Eldeth's shoulder. He shakes his head at his new, even less creative, nickname and walks forward.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day, Cell*

Sarith stands lazily, making sure to grab a piece of bread before he goes. _Trash male._ Was that the best Kronryn had? Well he shouldn't be too surprised. Intelligence had never been the man's strong suit. Minor word play tended to trip him up. For a moment he considers just not going, but he didn't want to give Kronryn the satisfaction of an excuse to beat him. Dragging his feet he slowly plods out of the cell, ready for the next workshift.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

*The Seventh Day- Cell*

Borthan looked at the guard, then over at Sarith, then to Dworic, then finally stands up, stretching far enough to elicit a pop from his back before stepping forward. He moves to the door, keeping his gaze down as his anger rose. Mutt meat. The gray dwarven word for half-elf wasn't exactly positive, but it carried a bit more respect than the doggerel insults of the guard. _I'm going to make you remember my real name before I send you to meet your queen._ He thought while staring at the guard's boots.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Seventh Day - Cell*

After the guard and his workers leave, there is a grinding sound from the orc's spot. He has withdrawn a carnelian gemstone from... somewhere, and has begun whittling one end into a point using the stones. Though his idea isn't bad, it's making noise that could draw a guard to investigate.

From the back of the cell, Buppido is looking out from under his shaggy bangs and eying the would-be shiv greedily.

*The Seventh Day - Work Shift*

Led by the guard Kronryn, the three of them file through the now-familiar (to some more than others) tunnels and stalactites of Velkynvelve. Out into the common area, where they find the curious sight of a drow feeding a giant spider a piece of fresh meat. Meat that could have been for _them_. 

Not curious in the sens that a drow is feeding a spider before their prisoners - that is par for the course. No, the curious part is firstly the spider itself - not the pinks and purples of Lolth-touched giant spiders common in the underdark, but a darker, more natural coloration. And secondly is the drow's intense gaze, as if purposefully trying to blink as little as possible while watching the spider; he does not even spare the prisoners a derisive glance or comment, so firm is his concentration.

"Pay attention, this one is _complicated_," Kronryn snaps his fingers to draw the prisoners' attention, speaking as if complicated orders might be too much for their meager minds. "Step one. Get a bucket." He points to six iron buckets beside him. "Step two. Fill the bucket with water from the waterfall." He points back the way they came, towards the white noise that is the steady roar of the water, now a familiar and natural sound. "Step three, bring the bucket to the kitchen and warm the water over the fire." With a nod over his right shoulder, he indicates one of the rooms off the common area.

"And lastly," he crosses his arms and looks towards the central stalactite, "Deliver the heated bucket to the guards waiting at the doors of the the shrine." At the indicated spot, two male drow are standing at attention with a statue of Lolth visible behind them. "Do you understand your instructions, or do you need them repeated for you?" Kronryn asks, looking through spiteful eyes at the three men before him.

Within the kitchen, during their task, they spot a dog tied up and whimpering in the corner beside the table.

*Spoiler: Borthan*
Show

The spider and dog he recognizes as Nilvae's pets, from his travels with her. The spider has the curious trait of changing between the forms of a spider and a donkey whenever unobserved.


*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

The task is likely gathering and heating bathwater for the head Priestess of the outpost.


*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Each character must make checks for each portion of the task. There are no bonuses for exertion, but there are six buckets, each of which must be filled and delivered by someone. So each person needs to take two... or take one and let someone stronger take three, for example.

Step 1:
DC 12 Dexterity or Strength checks not to lose balance and fall off the bridge while gathering water, as it requires stretching arms out over the gap. The penalties for falling off the bridge are probably obvious.

A character may accept 1 Exhaustion to ignore this check instead, by taking a more conservative but tiring approach and filling the bucket more slowly.

Step 2:
DC 12 Strength check for hauling the water; failure is 1 Exhaustion.

Step 3:
DC 12 Dexterity or Constitution check to avoid dropping the scalding hot metal bucket after it is heated. Failing this check means spilling the water and starting that bucket all over again.

These steps must be completed for each bucket.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Seventh Day - Work Shift*

After retrieving their first round of buckets, the group makes their way towards the bridge over the waterfall. It's a simple task, in theory. They reach out and hold their buckets, gathering water that flows down from the falls. Borthan and Dworic have no trouble, keeping their footing firm. But in his slack, depressed stance, Sarith is caught off guard by the force of the water rushing down. He stumbles and slips on the wet wood, tumbling facefirst into the torrent of water.

The spider webs below the bridge catch Sarith by the leg, leaving him dangling upsidedown as the water batters his face and body. The small bit of webbing that caught him doesn't hold, however, slowly stretching down as his clothes become waterlogged and he plunges into the pool below, mouth full and eyes blind in the water. At the opening from the tunnel to the bridge, the supervising drow's laughter can be heard through the noise of the water. "Listening to his whining for all those years was worth it just to see that. Prisoners, keep working!" He turns to the quaggoth and gives them orders to go down and retrieve Sarith using the lift.

After heating up the bucket, however, Borthan and Dworic find them hard to carry without burning themselves. Despite their best efforts, they drop the buckets before they reach the shrine and spill all of their hard-gathered water.

Picking their buckets back up, they have no choice but to start over.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Sarith technically has a chance to escape if he decides to make a blind run for i after his fall. He has a few rounds worth of action before Dworic also falls down.

He knows the gray ooze is somewhere down in the pool, but it does not attack him yet - if it is even nearby. The slime is practically impossible to spot in the water.

Assuming he doesn't go down after them, Borthan successfully completes his second bucket, completing 1/6 buckets.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day - Work Shift*
The dwarf manages the first bucket easily enough, though spills the water in transit. With a heavy sigh, he starts the process again, spilling the cumbersome load once more.

A shadow crosses Dworic's eyes and he growls low - a deep guttural sound, primal and animalistic, low and predatory. Determined to not be deterred by damnable buckets, he takes one in each arm and fills them both, carrying them on his shoulders with heavy steps, finally reaching his destination with the cargo intact.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Discord shows the sad tale of Dworic's bucket woes.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day, Cell*

When Sarith falls the first time, he doesn't yell or scream or cry. He simply falls, letting gravity take him away, embracing the inevitability of a death that doesn't come to take him, just yet. Now sodden and soaked, he drags his sorry carcass from the pool - death by ooze sounded distinctly unpleasant, and didn't want to give Kronryn or the others the satisfaction.

The trip back up the lift is short and direct, and he plods along in wet clothing without any particular enthusiasm or speed. He takes little notice of the other drow's jeers, even when he drops his second bucket from the heat and has to start over again. The strain in his arms is taking its toll though and - perhaps due to lack of effort, perhaps due to too much effort - he's carried across the edge of the bridge into open air for a second time that day. Whether the drow would send the Quaggoths down a second time for him was another matter, but at least he couldn't get more wet than he already was.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Seventh Day - Work Shift*

The drow watch with pleased sneers as Borthan and Dworic struggle to carry the buckets to and from the shrine, scalding their hands upon hot metal and then repeating the sisyphean task. "Put your back into it dwarf! Thought your kind were supposed to be hardier than this," one heckles as Dworic struggles against mounting exhaustion.

While he and Borthan manage to complete a few more buckets, Sarith promptly falls from the bridge a second time. Kronryn looks a little less amused this time, going to the lift to meet him after the quaggoth scoop him up out of the water.

"Having some trouble, traitor?" the drow officer asks, looking over his sopping wet living corpse with disdain. "Maybe you'd like to tap out, and let the female do your work for you?"

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Borthan completes his second bucket, and Dworic manages to catch up to him, completing two.

That puts them at 4/6, with only Sarith's failed portion left.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating on:

Borthan sweats, trembles, and clutches his fists in pain as he manages to bring in the second bucket. Hands scorched, pride hurt, and frustration mounting, he waits for Sarith to return, eyes filled with hatred and struggling to stop himself from going for his knife.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day, Work Shift*

*"Hmm, no, I think I'm fine."* Sarith drawls, plodding back to attempt another bucket. *"The water's refreshing when you get used to it. It's your necks on the line if Ilvara's bath is late."* He bends down and hooks the bucket into his palm. *"Not as if there's anything you can do to me that I've not already done to myself."* Prisoners or not, if they failed to perform then Ilvara would punish the outpost first. And then, perhaps, the guards would punish him. But if it meant they hurt, then it might be worth it. He had to take what small pleasures he could find otherwise. Now on the other side of the dynamic he could see how useless it all was. They didn't always have a steady flow of prisoners, if they'd set up a channel to divert water without needing buckets or leaning over the edge of the bridge, such a slog wouldn't be required. The torments he'd inflicted in the past seemed so...fleeting. Banal. Nothing.

*"Don't worry though, I'll do my level best to not dis-"* His next words are cut off as the rushing water bashes down on his arms and he's forced off the bridge for the third time today. Ah. All so pointless.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Seventh Day - Work Shift*

"The Mistress will be assuaged to know how much you are suffering right now," Kronryn croons, leading Sarith back to work. But his work is cut short yet again. For the third time today, Sarith goes tumbling off the bridge. Borthan and Dworic can see Kronryn's face dim from amusement into definite annoyance now. "Bring him up! And drag him back to the cell, bring someone fresh to replace this useless lump," he orders.

But as the quaggoth descend from above for a third time to pull the floating Sarith out of the cold underground pool, he feels something wrap around his ankle and a searing pain as it begins to engulf his entire leg.

Through the webs below the bridge, Borthan and Dworic can see a gleaming, dark mass rise up out of the water and begin to overtake Sarith.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

The repeated splashes into the water have drawn the attention of our resident ooze. 

Sarith is slimed for *6* damage and *11* acid damage.

Initiative time.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 6/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day, Work Shift*

It stung. It stung a lot. Was this the end of Sarith? Doomed to be swallowed like so much other trash by the consuming ooze? Tired, hurt, wet, his vision blurs and Faedryl's words bubble up to him. The faces of the prisoners. The faces of the outpost. Things he still wants to see. Kronryn dead. The prisoners hopes dashed. Things that still elicit joy. It's slight, it's small, but it's something for him to cling onto. He flaps in the water, finding bursts of speed that he didn't think he was capable of in his current state, streaming through the water away from at a remarkable pace for one as tired as him.

He'd not let the ooze kill him. If only so he could laugh at Kronryn's corpse. Maybe he could die after that, but not until then.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Disengage.
*Action:* Dash for DOUBLE SPEED.
*Move:* Away from the slime, towards the lift.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Seventh Day - Work Shift*

Sarith swiftly swims away, fueled by sheer spite not to allow the world to kill him on _its_ terms. The undulating mass follows him to the edge of the water, but not beyond, sinking back beneath the surface and out of sight with a slurping sound. The drow's leg is still stinging, and covered in red sores where the skin has been burned off. The two quaggoth meet him halfway and drag him back to the lift, and to the relative safety of the outpost above.

Kronryn is waiting for him. "Move him to the center of the platform and hold him," he instructs the quaggoth. From his belt, the drow withdraws a whip, and Sarith knows what comes next. The two hulking brutes hold him by the arms and force him to remain standing, with his back to Kronryn. Then the lash slashes across his back, leaving a long painful mark and tearing open his soaking wet prison rags. As the second whip-stroke comes, it becomes too much and Sarith's consciousness fades, leaving him hanging limply from the quaggoths' arms.

With a disappointed sound, Kronryn spits on the ground. "Bring the filth back to the cell."

Sarith's unconscious form is dragged past Borthan and Dworic to be returned to the cell. Kronryn follows behind the two quaggoth, leaving his subordinates to supervise the continued bucket filling. "Keep working or you will be lashed and replaced," he snaps at the two of them.

*The Seventh Day - Cell*

The passive waiting is interrupted when Kronryn arrives with two quaggoth dragging Sarith with them. They lower him onto the ground in the cell, and the other prisoners can see he is in a sorry state. Two lashes along his back are bleeding against his soaking wet shirt, and one of his pant legs is entirely gone and covered in red, bloody sores.

Shuushar gets up from his meditation spot and rushes over to check on the state of Sarith. Kronryn tosses the kuo-toa a roll of bandages and instructs, "Ensure he survives long enough to see his execution."

About to turn around, Kronryn spots the carnelian gemstone poorly concealed in the orc prisoners hands and scowls. He points at one of the quaggoth and orders, "Bring me that stone." The orc struggles against the huge feline monster, but is thrown aside and the stone yanked from his grasp, the sharpened end still a work in progress. Kronryn looks around at the other prisoners and states, "There will be no rations tomorrow." With that he and his quaggoth leave, locking the door behind them.

Unwinding the roll of bandages, Shuushar starts to bind Sarith's wounds to keep them from getting infected.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Sarith is knocked unconscious by the lashing, and suffers another Exhaustion from his punishment.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 0/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (2), Unconscious, Stable
Concentrating: -- 


*Seventh Day, Work Shift*

He laughs when the first lash strikes him. A barking laugh. Not because it doesn't hurt - it hurts like the hells - but because that was all they could do. Lash out with whips and fists and blades as if it mattered anymore. The realisation that it was all so fleeting, that their anger and amusement didn't matter and that his pain would only be temporary brings him a surprising amount of peace. They wanted to hurt him to send a message. They wanted to break him. Turns out Sarith had already been broken, and the whip put him back together, albeit not quite how he was before. On the edge of death, on the edge of life. He drifts into unconsciousness with a satisfied smile, feeling like he was beginning to truly understand the world in a way he never even considered before his...fall.






*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: --
*Seventh Day, Cell*

Lack of food tomorrow wouldn't be too much of an issue. If anything it would help. They'd fight harder if they were more desperate, and the guards may assume they'd be too run down to muster any challenge. Not likely. They were mad, hungry, and the threat - judging by Sarith's unconscious corpse - was real. Motivations would be at an all time high, she just needed to keep the flames stoked. "It has to be tomorrow." She says to no one in particular, before adding, ice in her voice: "We'll kill them all." She has no affection for Sarith - in this life or her previous one she can't help but see him as a waste of space, but they wouldn't stop with him, and she refuses to be the next one they drag back into the cell bloody and broken.

She glances around to ensure no nearby guards before going to Buppido and dropping the gem she'd kept concealed into his open hand. Hand on hip, full of assurances, she continues speaking "Keep it quieter than the orc, don't lose this one too. They took tomorrow's food. They find another one they might take a hand next." And it wouldn't be her hand that gets taken. She still needed both of those.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating on:

Borthan watches the punishment of Sarith with his bottom lip between his teeth. Each slash of the whip brought back memories. Bad memories. The feeling of your skin being sheered off your back by braided leather. He didn't want this for the male drow. Hells, he didn't even like him. But a long time ago Borthan had promised Ee'char that he would help any prisoner, slave, or captive he could, and that promise still held today. With more resolve to escape, and to escape with every prisoner at his side, Bort turns to Dworic, speaking in dwarvish. Neither one of us is in good shape to try this stupid chore by ourselves. Here's what I propose- I fill the bucket while you hold my waist, then we both carry it back, then we both carry it hot. Then we switch. Hopefully making each bucket a two man job will make it easier, eh Biggun?"

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day - Work Shift*
Dworic looks to Borthan in silence, his seething anger at the drow and this imbecilic task barely contained. It would seem that his apathy might finally be giving way to something more.

The dwarf cracks his knuckles audibly and pops his neck. He nods agreement wordlessly.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Seventh Day - Cell*

The stone plummets into Buppido's hand and he catches it smoothly. "Ahhh," he breathes out, turning over the rock and looking up at Faedryl with a broad smile. His teeth are cleaner than one might expect down here - gleaming white like his eerie eyes in the dark. "Thank you, so very much."

Taking the stone, he begins grinding it against the ground, more carefully than the orc had. The big brute looks at him jealously, and grunts. The process is still quite loud, but their primary guards seem to be busy with the work shift - nobody comes around.

*The Seventh Day - Work Shift*

The two discuss their plan, as Kronryn walks back, tucking the bloody whip onto his belt. He watches from across the bridge with a glare in his eyes that says he's looking for any excuse to get it out again.

*Spoiler: Mechanics*
Show

Working together and with Dworic as an anchor, the risk of falling is nullified completely, and the other tasks are made at Advantage - cancelling out their Disadvantage. Dworic may spend another Rage if he wishes; I allow Advantages and Disadvantages to 'stack' in that they are not all wasted once one has cancelled the other. Since they'd have two Advantages and one Disadvantage, it'd push it over to Advantage again.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Nilvae looks at the beaten and broken drow. She gets up, but freezes midwalk. It was ridiculous to think they could resist the drow machinations. They could escape or even dare to oppose them. They toy with you, and when they are done, they torture, then kill you. Suddenly the most ridiculous thing she thought of was her hoping to escape. It was all so silly. She started laughing.




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Waddling over the small mushroom watches Shuushar bandage the fallen drow. Does not look good. Can we save him? the small myconid asks with genuine hope for the fallen drow. It waddles over to Faedryl. Why does your kind do that? Destroy one of their own? It makes little sense. Was he sick? Bad for community?

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: --
*Seventh Day, Cell*

Faedryl's eyes bounce off the laughing halfblood. More madness yet to come. Every moment they spent here was wearing them down. Maybe she should have had Duskryn do it today and...no, Sarith was a body that could be useful yet, best to let it heal up overnight. Hopefully tomorrow's work shift would be less grueling. Hopefully the- Her train of thought is interrupted by the myconid speaking into her mind. _Again._ Revolting. No, no, play nice, if only for the sake of the plan. As long as it turned its spores on the outpost she could put up with it for the moment. "Sarith's weakness wasn't the problem," she says, glancing at his bandaged form, silently thinking _Though it is a problem_. "Drow culture encourages hurting others to advance or amuse yourself. It's cutthroat, murderous, and utterly self-destructive. One of them the guards likely thought it would be fun to hurt him, so they did it. Now he can't work and requires healing." She stops herself from sniffing, concerned about more of Stool's spores in the air. 

"I understand the logic they use. I just think their logic is wrong."

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (2) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Seventh Day - Work Shift*
Dworic and Borthan make a pretty good team, which is why spilling the fruits of their labor in a hot, watery mess, stings so much more. The dwarf's skin is reddened and burned by the hot water, but he only utters the occasional grunt in frustration. He takes hold of the bucket and walks back to the waterfall, steadying Borthan so they could fill it yet again. Then finally, after what felt like hours upon hours of the most idiotic labor he'd ever performed, their task was done.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Seventh Day - Work Shift*

When yet another bucket spills to the floor, their supervising drow officer looks on in disappointed frustration. "Pathetic," he is heard, muttering to himself. But through a combined effort, the two are able to finally bring the last bucket to the shrine. "You will be lucky if the Head Priestess does not flay your hands for such incompetence," Kronryn spits at their feet. "Back to the cell."

*The Seventh Day - 'Evening'*

"Might I have some help moving him?" Shuushar asks in his soft voice, deep and yet floaty like a soap bubble dancing in the air. Jimjar gets up to help, and together they move Sarith away from the door - before their guards toss somebody back in on top of him. The kuo-toa sighs and his thoughts flow back to Stool in answer, _He will live. There will be permanent scarring upon this leg, I fear. At least it is nowhere a pant leg cannot hide._

After Dworic and Borthan are tossed back into the cell, the whole crew is together once again to piece together their final plan. All save for Sarith, passed out and in the care of the fishman. Stretching his back, Jimjar grins and looks around at everybody, meeting each of their eyes for a moment. *"So tomorrow's the day, huh folks? We ready to get this show on the road?"* he asks, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

At the back of the cell, Buppido is using a sharpened piece of carnelian gemstone to slowly and methodically trim his beard. "I have everything I need," he answers confidently.

The twins nod tentatively from their reclusive corner, and across them them the orc stares at the ground from between his knees in a slumped posture.

*The Eight Day*

The jangling of keys is what stirs awake those not already roused, or keeping watch. Sarith feels consciousness returning to him. There is a burning pain in his leg, which has been wound in white bandages now stained reddish-brown with dried blood, and a dull ache in his back from more than just the stone floor. The kuo-toa is sitting next to him in meditation.

There is a distant buzzing sound that elicits a deep nausea in the gut.

Duskryn approaches the window of the cell. Behind him, led by two guards, is a hulking quaggoth bound up in ropes and chains. The scarred drow opens up the door and ushers the new prisoner inside. "Get settled. This is-" he is cut off by a shout in drow-accented elvish from someone in the direction of the quaggoth den.

"Demons! A flock of them headed this way!" a voice calls out in warning. The buzzing is growing louder, and the drow guards at the door all turn to look towards the sound and the voice, one of them stepping onto the bridge to see. But almost as soon as he steps out, the drow keels over onto the wooden bridge, lying there unmoving as if a puppet that just had his strings cut.

*Spoiler: Arcana or Religion DC 20*
Show

The buzzing of the fly-demons known as Chasme is capable of inducing sudden fainting spells, which can last for as long as ten minutes.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Stirred from her daydream, Nilvae notices a distinct buzzing sound. Insect swarms? Down here? she wonders aloud, then sees the door open.IT'S NOW OR NEVER!! she shouts, waking and warning even the least attentive. We need to use this distraction. Go, now!




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Disrupting his eccentric song about the Underdark, a thing the others just notices as faint smells of varying spores, Stool jumps up and says. Out! Yesyes! and jumps outside, lookin if he feels, hears, no smells the presence of Psilofyr. Then he looks at Sarith and looks for something suitable to be enchanted with nature's bounty.

Yesyes. Come outside, Sarith, and feel the bounty of Psilofyr.

*Spoiler*
Show

Go outside to find something to be enchanted with Goodberry. I assume Underdark uses mushrooms or lizards or whatever for it. Also looking for a stick to be used by Shillelagh.

Looking for stick: 15
Looking for shrooms: 20

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 14 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating on:

Borthan doesn't hesitate for a second. From his position by the door he immediately moves to the quaggoth, moving to aid him freeing himself from any ropes and chains that remain. It's your lucky day, fuzzball. You don't have to stay here very long. Follow along and we'll get you out of here. Help out and we'll get along just fine. Just remember- freedom is worth dying for. He'd asked for more people and he'd gotten them, now it was time to see what they could do. Drawing the stone dagger from his boot, turning and waving the cave dwellers forward, he draws the rope from his thigh and throws it on the floor for anyone with the fortitude to use it. Without looking to see if anyone is following him, Borthan moves swiftly through the door, striding directly up to the unconscious drow guard and attempts to take their weapon with his free hand. _Fortune favor the bold!_



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Borthan will attempt to arm himself with whatever the unconscious guard had in his right hand, wielding the dagger in his left, unless the guard has two weapons he can grab in the same action. 



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

What? Oh... I see. Derendil flexes his impressive bulk to shed whatever bonds have been left on them with Borthan's assistance. Then he turns to take in the situation as Borthan pushes past him. Looking down at his massive clawed fist, he pauses for a second to remember who he truly was before joining the abrupt half-blood outside,  presumably to do battle with their oppressors. On his way through the doorway he raises his voice to it's loudest capability and shouts For Nelrindenvane! For freedom! Forward! in the tongue of the sun elves.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire
*Eighth Day, Escape*

The demon's buzzing and droning as what Faedryl would delicately refer to as a _complication._ A part of her wanted to just let it play out. Either the demons won and were weakened or the outpost won and was weakened. Either way they'd have an easier time of escaping later. On the other hand, the chaos of an ongoing attack was possibly their best hope. The decision gets made for her by the others but it's not one she disagrees with, so she's happy to oblige. "The demons buzzing can knock you out for about ten minutes, a hit is enough to wake you." They were in no position or state to fight off a concerted Chasme attack. She moves out of the now open cell door, immediately feeling the by now semi-familiar rush of her magic 'unlocking'. One drow was stood perilously close to the edge. She'd been hoping for just such an opportunity, and lashes out with her mind, inky black liquid edge closing to her irises. The two near the quaggoth pen...she couldn't take them on her own. Better to do what she could in clearing the path to the armoury.

With her shove attempted she begins muttering the incantation to summon flames up. As long as she kept them away from the bridges she should have free reign to incinerate everything else. Flames  spring up beneath the feet or her target. Once the spell surges up, she darts back into the the cell, careful not to expose herself to too much danger. "Armoury!" They needed weapons if they were to defend themselves, and she wanted her spellbook back.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
*Bonus Action:*  Telekinetic Shove the drow above Derendil. He needs to beat a DC14 strength save (1d20)[*7*] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl, which punts him off the edge of the platform and down the webway.
*Action:* Cast _Create Bonfire_ either on Kronryn (if the shove succeeds) or the drow above Derendil (if it didn't). Gotta beat a DC14 dex save (1d20)[*14*] (+modifiers) or take (1d8)[*1*] fire damage.






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith hears the calls. Of Faedryl. Of the mushroom. The pain was still lingering in his back, the tiredness in his legs. For a moment he thinks about simply not. Let them fight and die. But then Kronryn might die without him, he might not get to see the stupid expression on Kronryn's face. And that, somehow, is enough to make Sarith stand up. He's slow off the mark, unable to reach the fallen drow before Borthan does. He'd have to wait to get weapons, so instead he turns his attention to evasion. He puts two and two together quickly enough when he sees Faedryl completely ignore Duskryn. A traitor. The lengths a spurned heart would take you. *"Duskryn,"*  he says by way of acknowledgement. *"Give me a weapon."* It's not a plea, nor does it have the force of a command. A suggestion then, perhaps. He can't help fight drow or demon with his fists, but a crossbow with a box of bolts would serve him quite nicely.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Out of the cell, south of Prince Derendil.
*Bonus Action:*  Cunning Action: Dash, to have enough movement.
*Action:* Dodge

----------


## RandomWombat

Buppido is out of the cell in a flash, slipping through everyone. A small stone flies through the air and impacts the wall beside the guard next to the new quaggoth prisoner. Buppido clicks his tongue in disappointment and takes out his gemstone shiv, baring his white teeth in a fearsome smile. Moving up behind him, Jimjar positions himself near the door and uses a foot to keep it from accidentally - or intentionally - being closed on them.

Borthan steps outside and undoes the chains and ropes binding the quaggoth, freeing him. Then Borthan steps past onto the bridge and is met with the sight and sound of four menacing demonic insects, with faces like fearsome jutting lances, chasing a pair of vulture-like demons not far away from the outpost walls. None of them seem to be paying the outpost any mind, engrossed in their own predatory chase. The buzzing of the demonic flies turns Borthan's stomach, and his vision flickers with colorful spots. The ground slips out from under him and he falls atop the unconscious drow.

Dashing out of the cell, Sarith is met with an ambivalent look from Duskryn. "Would you hand a rabid hound a sword?" he asks Sarith, sardonically. The scarred elf scoffs with the same empty, distant look on his face as Sarith. "I've done enough."

As if shoved by someone, the drow warrior attempting to hold the quaggoth prisoner staggers back and hits his head on the wall, as a plume of flame spawns up from the stone beneath him. He leaps and dances atop the fire, avoiding being burnt.

The twins remain towards the back, letting the crowd in front of them move out first. Pushing himself up off of the wall, the orc sluggishly begins plodding towards the door, clearly still recovering from his dosage of sedatives the other day.

Calmly, Shuushar folds his hands in front of him and walks towards the door, keeping an eye out for injuries on their side.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

*Surprise Round*
Buppido Bonus Action to Dash, then throws a stone at Drow Warrior, but misses.
Borthan unties Derendil as his action, then moves onto the bridge, in range of the Chasme buzz. He fails his Con save and passes out, for 10 minutes or until he takes damage. 
Sarith moves out and uses Dodge. 
Stool finds that the glowing mushrooms on the wall of the cell should work well enough for Goodberry, once ferried out of the anti-magic zone, and he is able to gather a bundle. For a club he does not see many options besides prying up boards from the bridge.
Faedryl shoves Drow Warrior for *3* bludgeoning damage against the wall, but he avoids being burned by the bonfire.
Derendil and Nilvae may take their surprise round actions.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

His bonds loosed, Derendil's mind first goes to defensive magic. Armor. Resistance. Protection. Then he realizes, in a moment of pure cruelty, that these dark elf mongrels took his spellbook and his wand, leaving him helpless. Well, that is except for the muscles and claws of this monstrous form. After his shout he lays into the nearest guard, awkwardly slashing upward at the drow's head. Despite his inexperience navigating this body, the rush of blood from the attack tapped into something. Something deep inside the beast in which he now resides. That felt GOOD. So strong, so dangerous. _Well, when one is transfigured, they must use all tools available to their new form, I suppose._



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Derendil will claw the guard to the north of him. I believe it is the same one who Faedry pushed. (1d20+5)[*17*] and (1d6+3)[*6*] damage. Bort will keep, it's Derendil's time to shine.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Nilvae escapes the cell looks northwards and then west. She snaps her fingers and the area in the north glows in a pale green light. Look there. Tasty, tasty dark elves! she tries to coax the demons into starting with the drow up north.

*Spoiler*
Show

Faerie Fire into north. Dex save DC 14 or be outlined in limegreen, the most disgusting color!

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Dworic once again wakes feeling sore and tired, but today some of his old fire is back. Apathy has finally given way to the rage of old and if Haela is keeping him alive still then a mightier doom awaits him. Sleep quickly leaves him when he hears the shouts outside and his cellmates dash forward. Springing to his feet, he runs out to the door to take stock of the situation.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 *Move:* 25' W to the door
 *Action:* Dodge
 *Bonus:* --





*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Eldeth can't help but feel disappointed when Sarith regains consciousness. She had hoped for one less drow in her immediate vicinity. She takes some comfort in seeing how Dworic's mood was improving. Brooding anger was more promising than morose apathy.

Then all happens at once. Eldeth hesitates, unsure of what to do, unable to stick to the shadows, she inches forward trying to stay close to Dworic. Maybe they'd be able to make a run for it. *"To the armory indeed,"* she says in a low voice, begrudgingly agreeing with the drow female.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 *Move:* 10' NW
 *Action:* Dodge
 *Bonus:* --

----------


## RandomWombat

Derendil's savage claws slash through the drow's chain shirt while he is still reeling from dodging the burst of flame. They dig into the skin and draw blood, though the strike is not so deep as the 'quaggoth' would have liked. Blood runs down his claws onto his hands, feeling warm and wet. Derendil feels a sharp sting in his upper arm, and a woozy feeling around the drow bolt sticking out. "Get back in the cell, you bunch of stupid beasts!" Kronryn shouts at the escaping prisoners.

In a sparkling flash, the northern half of the tunnel lights up. It catches the drow in the hallway, and the drow inside the stalactite - behind the drow are bow slits for shooting down into the cavern below. Both of them blink away stars in their eyes from the same dazzling lights that mark them. A shape moves past her, surprisingly fast for his soft footsteps. A small orange shape shoots out in Buppido's hand and slashes across the drow's thigh, loosing a vicious flow of blood. The derro's white hair and mustache is stained red and he turns to face Nilvae, making a two-fingered salute from his forehead. The drow tries to stem the bleeding with panicked hands, but soon passes out on the floor.

The derro's celebration is short-lived as the quaggoth pen door slams open against the wall. One of the creatures, part bear and part feline, lunges at Buppido and scratches him across the cheek as he tries to duck away the last second. His white eyes practically glow in rage at the scratch left down across the side of his beard. "Oooh. I am going to _bleed_ you for that." He shows nothing but cold anger and confidence in the face of two more quaggoth beginning to emerge.

All the while, their scarred accomplice pushes past in the opposite direction of the flow of people out of the cell, sliding in and settling into the corner out of sight from beyond. Duskryn's eyes meet Faedryl's as he slumps back against the stone wall. "Such a shame I was shoved inside when the prisoners escaped, and locked in," he laments sardonically in droning drow-elven.

Jimjar and Topsy slide out and try to engage the wounded drow warrior in hand-to-hand combat, but trying to reach over the flames proves difficult with their short stature and arms.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

*Surprise Round*
Derendil claws Drow Warrior for *6* damage.
Nilvae casts Faerie Fire, making two Drow Warriors to the north. Both are lit up like Christmas trees. (Lock symbol on token is Concentration, Green dots on drow are Faerie Fire Advantage)

*Round 1*
Buppido sneak attacks one of the marked drow for *15* damage, a one hit KO.

Kronryn shoots Derendil for *8* piercing damage, and he must make a DC 13 Con save or be Poisoned for 1 hour. On a failure of 5 or more, he falls unconscious until he takes damage or is woken with an action.

Jimjar swings at Drow Warrior, but misses.
Borthan is unconscious.
Topsy swings at Drow Warrior, but misses.

Quaggoth claws Buppido for *9* damage.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith and Stool are up! Unless Derendil is down.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith tuts, loudly, at Duskryn's ignorance. Sarith was as much a traitor as Duskryn was, but at least Sarith had the excuse of madness, perhaps a curse. What was Duskryn's excuse for unleashing death on his comrades? That Ilvara wasn't bedding him anymore? That she'd swapped him for a younger model? It was somehow more pathetic than even Sarith was, to obsess so much. Deprived of weapon from the lovespurned traitor, he lashes out, booting the thinblood back into the waking world. He frantically scans whats nearby, frantically searching for something he can equip himself with - Buppido's target has just that, even if it's in the opposite direction of the armoury, what mattered more was getting something in hand so that he didn't become demon food. He swings around the derro and grabs at whatever weapon he can grab.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action:* Kick Borthan awake for 2 damage.
*Bonus Action:*  Cunning Action: Dash, to have enough movement.
*Move:* Cross over Buppido (skirting around OA of the fire-loving drow) to get next to the unconscious(/dead?) Drow warrior.
*Object Interaction:* Grab the best melee weapon the drow's got on hand for sneak attacks - piercing, ideally, but he'll take slashing if it's all they've got.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 18/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Rage (10 rounds)
Concentrating on:

Derendil feels the sharp pain of the bolt entering his body, and he starts to let out a strangled cry of pain. Instead, a bestial roar escapes his lips. _What is happening? I'm... I'm losing... control!_ His mind goes blank and he surges forward, slashing at the drow warrior again with his claws again in a brutal rage, howling, spitting, hissing, and shouting unintelligibly in his fury. Once he has struck down the drow before him, he wheels and charges for the source of his pain, bearing down on Kronyn with murderous intent.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Bonus Action- Rage
Action- Attack- (1d20+5)[*17*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*11*] damage.
Move- Move to be adjacent to Kronyn if the Drow Warrior falls down from damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

Shaken awake by a boot to the side of the head, Borthan's eyes flutter open just in time for a huge shape to sail over him across the bridge. Derendil charges through the buzzing of the demons, barely reaching his ears in the savage rage that has swallowed him. Kronryn's eyes widen as the quaggoth bears down on him.

The drow warrior falls down onto the flames, the smell of burning flesh filling the area. Sarith dashes away and snatches up a drow shortsword from the ground, the handle familiar in his hands. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil slashes Drow Warrior for *11* damage. He faceplants into the fire, suffering an immediate failed death save.
Sarith kicks Borthan awake and dashes, obtaining a Shortsword. There are also a dagger and a hand crossbow there.
Borthan is immune to the Chasme buzz for 24 hours.

Nilvae's turn is still up.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Faerie Fire

The half-elf quickly gathers up some tiny stones and enchants them with a slight blue hue. She starts by throwing one at Borthan's enemy, their impact suddenly heavier than sling bullets.

*Spoiler*
Show

Magic Stone (1d20+6)[*22*]
(1d6+4)[*7*]

----------


## RandomWombat

The glimmering stone impacts the drow in the side of the head as he lay unconscious on the bridge. A sharp cry of pain, and he jolts up, scrabbling for his weapon. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae casts Magic Stone and flings one, hitting the Drow Warrior for *7* damage and waking him up.

It is also Stool's turn - my bad, I missed him on the turn order.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: -

Jumping up and down, the little fungal friend tries to get a better view of what's happening. Chaos was ensuing, so Stool rushed out to defend his new "friends". As it moves out of the cell, a subtle breeze carries a cloud of black vapor towards the small myconid, enveloping him, making him larger. The harmonic smell of his presence is replaced by something fiercer, it feels like anger.

Sarith, find me stick for bonking! it echoes inside the tortured drow's head.

*Spoiler*
Show

Moving north, activating Symbiotic Entity, gaining the following:
-12 temp HP
- as long as I have these temp HP, my Halo of Spores deals double damage and my melee attacks deal another 1d6 necrotic damage.

I use my reaction on the quaggoth's turn to deal Halo of Spores damage (DC 13 Con to negate, (2d4)[*4*] necrotic damage)

----------


## RandomWombat

The drow on the bridge, awoken by the stone to the head, scrambles to his feet in a panic. His stance is unsteady, but he grabs his blade and locks eyes with Borthan, who is still on the ground and seeing stars after Sarith's boot stirred him from unconsciousness. The drow lunges down at him, and Borthan is just able to catch the blade before it pierces into his chest. It comes to a stop just in time, with a thin, shallow  cut.

Borthan can see the approach of a spider along the web beneath them, crawling towards the wall to climb up.


Ront shoves past Dworic, pushing his way out of the cell and stumbling his way towards the fighting - and towards escape. Just behind him, little Turvy scurries out less noticeably, fingers weaving out patterns in the air as he moves. The moment he's out of the cell, glimmers of white-blue flicker around his fingertips and he points at the quaggoth beyond Stool with a command word in gnomish. "Freeze!" A ray of similarly colored light arcs out and stings the arm of the quaggoth with a terrible chill. But it seems to do little more.


From inside of the stalactite turret, a second drow steps out to assist the one Buppido bled and dropped. A blade flashes out from the drow's scabbard and clashes with the one Sarith just seized from the ground, jarring his hand painfully with the impact. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Stool activates Symbiotic Entity, gaining 12 temp hp.

Drow Warrior attacks Borthan with Prone advantage, dealing *4* damage.
Drow Warrior attacks Sarith, dealing *4* damage.

Ront Dashes.

Giant Spider climbs up the stone wall.

Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Quaggoth, dealing *1* cold damage.

It is now Faedryl's turn.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2
[/QUOTE]

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire
*Eighth Day, Escape*

Was this going well? Was it going poorly? She couldn't tell, lacking any real experience in the flow of battle or combat beyond short sparring matches and tiny skirmishes. This was...hectic. Panicked. But then it probably should be. She ignores Duskryn's comment. He chose neutrality, like a coward. His principles and convictions were lacking, and he's suffer for them but they had more important matters to attend to. Faedryl darts out of the prison again, assessing the situation. One down, good. The new quaggoth prisoner seemed to be pulling his weight dutifully, charging forwards towards the armoury. Two in the way. She chooses to focus on the far target. The one closer had others who could strike at it. She loosens her jaw and the flow of magic surges up around her throat. From her lips comes not a word, but the distinct, instantly recognisable sound of a bell clanging, as if her mouth had become metal, her tongue a clanger. With one last look at a spider climbing the wall she sends a mental push to try to keep it out of their way, before slipping back into the prison, away from the encroaching foes. She is delicate, after all. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
*Bonus Action:*  Telekinetic Shove the spider on the wall to the group's southwest.. It needs to beat a DC14 strength save (1d20)[*20*] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl, so further along the wall away from the group. Might make a difference for distance, possibly not. Sadly she can't push it off the wall. 
*Action:* Cast _Toll the Dead_ on Kronryn. Gotta beat a DC14 Wis save (1d20)[*5*](+modifiers) or take (1d12)[*7*] Necrotic damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

The tolling of the great black bell rings in Kroryn's ears and he winces, but the dark power does little to quell his life force. The spider along the wall hisses and holds firm against the invisible shove, confused by walking into what seemed like an invisible wall, but otherwise undeterred. The drow officer discards his hand crossbow on the table behind him in the same motion he draws his shortsword to face off against Derendil. The swift motion throws off his aim as he jabs at Derendil, his aim too short.

Squaring up against the towering figure of the quaggoth, Buppido jabs forward with his blade - but the beastman slaps his hand away with a clawed hand and glowers down menacingly. Buppido tries to stomp on a foot instead to distract him, but the quaggoth's long clawed nail takes the brunt of the stomp, its bony structure unharmed. A card from Jimjar's hidden deck flies past the quaggoth and impacts the wall, disappearing as soon as it flashed by in a spark of golden light to appear back in his deck.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, dealing *2* necrotic damage to Kronryn. Her telekinetic shove on the spider fails.
Shuushar casts Virtue on Bontar, granting him *4* temporary hit points.
Buppido attacks with his shiv and an unarmed offhand strike, both missing.

Kronryn stabs at Derendil, but misses.

Jimjar uses cartomancy at Quaggoth, but misses despite spending Luck.

It is now Borthan's turn.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 12 HP: 23/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan turns the blade aside, cutting his hand in the process. Curling backward, he leapt up from the floor, attempting to kick the drow warrior's blade out of his grasp. The guard managed to deflect Borthan's kick, but the half-elf threw a left handed punch. Left, right, it didn't matter to him. And he wouldn't rest until he got his hands on a second weapon. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rolling to hit with an unarmed strike. Disarm attempt failed in the Discord. (1d20+5)[*18*] to hit and 4 damage if he is successful.

----------


## RandomWombat

The fist connects, striking the guard in the gut and causing him to momentarily double over. His vicious red eyes glare up at Borthan with murderous intent. 


Unable to get onto the bridge, Topsy turns to face the northern front where everyone is duking it out with the hulking quaggoth. The gnome hesitates briefly, waiting for its attention to be on Buppido before she closes in. "Brother. Clear the bridge," she orders, moving past Turvy to  leap in for a throat chop at the quaggoth. But the beast steps back out of her reach, and she lands unsuccessfully beside it.

Spores fluttering around in the air settle into the quaggoth's fur and it twitches and snarls, scratching at them. Clumps of hair fall off, revealing the tissue beneath looking sickly. In its rage, the beastman swings his arms out in a sweeping motion to backhand Buppido and Topsy away from him and try and get at the offending mushroom. Buppido swerves out of the way, while Topsy is thrown to the side into the wall and grunts from the impact.

Two more of the hulking beasts emerge from their den, snarling. One steps over the dying drow at Sarith's feet to loom over him, a cruel mockery of a smile gracing its face at the chance to rip apart a former master with full permission. Its claws swipe at him and one finds its mark, digging into his arm through his rags. Topsy's vulnerability is not lost on the other, who scratches her with a claw as she pushes back off of the wall to regain her balance.

"They need help!" the normally shy Turvy shouts, trying to gather everyone's attention as his sister is in danger.

"Getting crowded here," Jimjar comments.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan punches Drow Warrior for *4* damage.
Topsy attacks Quaggoth, but misses. She uses a bonus action to Help Turvy on his next attack roll.

Quaggoth takes *4* necrotic damage from Stool's spores. It attacks Topsy and Buppido, hitting the former for *6* and missing the latter.
Quaggoth slashes at Sarith twice with claws, hitting once for *5*.
Quaggoth slashes at Topsy twice, hitting once for *6*.

It is Nilvae, Stool, Sarith and Derendil's turns.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Pain raked his skin. Pain that should have been protected by armour that had been stripped from him. The drow to his side could wait - though they had hit him, the quaggoth was clearly the more major threat at this point. In a single motion he tosses his claimed sword straight up as a distraction before dropping to the ground and snatching away the fallen dagger from the dead drow at his feet. Even through his exhaustion, the fact that he's unburdened by the weight of gear lets him move swiftly, pouncing back up to his feet. He snatches the distraction sword from the air and plunges both of them at the hulking monstrosity in front of him, desperate to put it down before it can claw at him any further. Had it only targeted the derro, perhaps he would have let it be, but it had chosen to make an enemy of him, and that was something he could not abide, even in his broken state. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Object Interaction:* Scoop up the dagger on the ground.
*Action:* Shortsword attack (1d20+6)[*14*] Damage (1d6+4)[*8*]
*Bonus Action:*  Dagger attack. (1d20+6)[*11*] Damage (1d4)[*2*] *Edit:* In the unlikely event this did hit, the damage is actually *1*, via discord. 
If one of the attacks hits, also sneak attack (1d6)[*3*]
I may reroll one of the damage die using the Piercer feat in discord, will edit if so.
*Move:* None.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Faerie Fire

We need to go! The demons will overrun this outpost. Nilvae shouts in surface common. She snaps her fingers, pointing at the drow decidedly in the way of things, then throws another glimmering stone.

*Spoiler*
Show

Bonus Action: True Strike
Action: (1d6+6)[*10*](1d6+6)[*8*]
Damage: (1d6+4)[*5*]





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: Entangle

Move away, Topsy. Stool says as the small fellah moves him and this noxious fumes between the wall and the two quaggoths. Big flies over there. he points with his stubby arms. 

Sensing Nilvae's panic, he summons his fungal magics to the north. Seconds later, a giant mushroom grows there, binding the chasme with gigantic hyphae, thin brown and strong fibers that connect several fungal colonies together.

*Spoiler*
Show

Strength Save DC 13 or be restrained

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 18/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Rage (9 rounds)
Concentrating on:

Blood rushing, claws sharp, and mind lost to violence, Derendil continues his assault on Kronyn. The awkwardness of his first strikes is gone, replaced with pure fury and savage skill. This time he tries to claw the drow's face off with a sideways slash. He circles the guard like a predator, eyes fixated on his enemy.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rolling to hit- (1d20+5)[*23*] and damage (1d6+5)[*11*]. Moving to the opposite side of Kronyn without risking an AoO.

----------


## RandomWombat

The stone hurled from Nilvae's hands glimmers, leaving a trail of white light as it curves around Borthan to bean the drow right in the temple. He staggers and falls, landing in a crumpled heap in the web below and clearing the bridge.

At the other end, the quaggoth prisoner circles Kronryn, swiping with one claw and then the next, seeking an opening. Then it comes, as Kronryn brings up his blade to deflect one claw - and a second drags across his side. The armor absorbs most of the injury, but the drow's back is now to the rest of the prisoners. The orc begins making his way across the bridge, stumbling and staggering under the drug-induced hangover he still suffers.

The spider on the outside wall charges across it at Borthan, hissing and baring its fangs. He fends the creature away before it can sink the venom-dripping appendages into him. A bolt of chilly blue energy from behind him leaves a cool breeze hanging around him, as Turvy tries to fire at the drow officer. But with too many allies in the way, his aim is too cautious, and hits only the side of the stalactite.


Meanwhile, Sarith acquires a second blade and slashes at the insolent creature that struck at him. One of the blades makes contact, finding a vulnerable point and inflicting a fierce injury. Soon after, fungal growths erupt from the floor ahead; the quaggoth he faces manages to break itself free, but the drow struggles against it and remains contained, as does the one attacking the gnome.

Stool finds it difficult to find an opening into the chaotic melee, slipping up next to Topsy and Buppido as his magic takes effect.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae hurls a Magic Stone at Drow Warrior, dealing *5*. damage and a KO.
Derendil slashes Kronryn for *11* damage.
Sarith dual strikes Quaggoth for an *11* damage Sneak Attack and a miss.
Stool casts Entangle on the Quaggoth and Drow (and the den behind them). Two Quaggoths pass their saves, while the other and the Drow are Restrained.
(The Chasme are outside the outpost, currently; moved Stool to the closest open square to where he'd moved, since he moved into a wall)

Drow Warrior attempts to break free of Entangle, but fails.
Drow Warrior fails a death save from being on fire.

Ront Dashes.

Giant Spider attempts to bite Borthan, but misses.

Turvy casts Ray of Frost at Kronryn, but misses despite Advantage.

It is Faedry's turn.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

*Eighth Day, Escape*

She was beginning to feel the rhythm of the fight now. Pop out, strike, retreat. Pop out, strike, retreat. She still wasn't sure if it was working, and in fact it felt like they were being surrounded, but if they could just push through this initial melee they'd be in a far stronger position. She sweeps through, her throat clanging with unmistakable sound of metal against Kronryn once more, the sole drow remaining in the path of the armoury. She hadn't take note if she'd successfully pushed back the spider last time, but regardless it was here and present now, so she pushes against it once more with her mind, trying to buy them time or space or both. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
*Bonus Action:*  Telekinetic Shove the nearby spider, it needs to beat a DC14 strength save (1d20)[*15*] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl. Not sure if that'll toss it away but it'll give Borthan space. Maybe. Hopefully!
*Action:* Cast _Toll the Dead_ on Kronryn. Gotta beat a DC14 Wis save (1d20)[*7*](+modifiers) or take (1d12)[*2*] Necrotic damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

The ringing of bells in his ears continues to eat away at Kronryn's strength, but the drow's haughtiness is not all bravado - even in the face of the turning tides and beastly claws, he stands strong. The spider's many legs grip the wall fiercely, resisting Faedryl's unseen attempts to knock it loose. "The prisoners are loose!" he shouts, trying to get the attention of the quaggoth on the other side of the waterfall. Whether his words made it through the roaring water is unclear. Taking blade in hand, he delivers another brutal attack to Derendil, who perseveres through wild rage.


Striding up past Jimjar, Shuushar reaches out and lays a webbed hand upon Topsy's back. Burbling healing incantations in Deep Speech bring about a soft glow that mends the claw marks the quaggoth left upon her. She mutters a quiet thanks that he may not have even heard over the clanging metal and snarls.

Buppido senses weakness in the quaggoth Sarith struck, and shifts his stance to plunge his shiv into its exposed side. It opens up like a cask of ale, bleeding upon the ground and staggering from the loss. But its balance is recovered in time to avoid Buppido trying to dig his fingers into the wound and pry it open further. A gleaming red playing card sails past between both of them, sticking into the quaggoth's side. It explodes like a small bomb, leaving yet another brutal wound. The beast looks woozy, struggling not to fall over. But there is a vicious gleam in its eyes, born of brutal spite.

*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

Sarith is aware that quaggoth are especially dangerous when near death. Like a cornered rat, they will respond with vicious force, and have been known to overpower their attacker in the blink of an eye.



As the fighting continues, the demons thankfully take little interest in the mortals clawing at one another. The chasme continue their vicious chase against the fleeing vrock, their buzzing and shrieks moving away and making the bridge safer to cross, without the risk of unconsciousness from a demonic sickness.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead on Kronryn for *2* damage, but the spider resists her shove.
Shuushar casts Cure Wounds on Topsy, healing her for *6*.
Buppido stabs Sarith's Quaggoth for an *18* damage sneak attack, but misses his offhand unarmed strike. It is badly wounded, but still up.

Kronryn hits Derendil for *10* damage, halved to *5* by Rage.

Jimjar uses Cartomancy on Sarith's Quaggoth, dealing an *11* damage Blades suit sneak attack. The Quaggoth will take *2* damage on its next turn.

It is Borthan's turn!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 12 HP: 23/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark: Target- Giant Spider (1 hour)

Bort follows the path of the stone that killed the drow guard and spots Nilvae. He smiles at her, raises his index finger, and pointed at the dead man in congratulations, and perhaps a friendly challenge. Fighting for his life was much more comfortable to Borthan than socializing in the good inn Hellhole they'd been staying at. He suddenly realized he'd been there the longest of them all. He still wouldn't miss it. Then the spider ended his frivolity with a tackle. He raised the stone dagger up just in time to brace himself and shove it back, preventing it from biting him by mere inches. He assumed a low stance, stepping back. And stepping on something. He didn't need to look to know what it was, either. Reaching down, Borthan scoops up the fallen drow's shortsword with his left hand. Then he spun it in his palm to reverse the grip. He felt whole again, with something deadly in each hand. It felt right. All those years of training began to kick in. From Vrek. From Ee'char. And, like he had so many time before today, he fell into a lethal rhythm. He uttered the word *Prey!* in the language of the grey dwarves. It was a passionate word, if one can be passionate about killing. Borthan's eyes dilated completely, and instinctively he knew where to strike for the best effect. Swinging the shortsword down in a reverse grip with full force, he attempted to stab the creature in the head. He wasn't an expert in spiders like his father's line, so he made his best guess on what constituted the head of the beast with lethal intention.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Item interaction to pick up the shortsword. Bonus action to cast Hunter's mark on the giant spider. Action to stab the spider with the shortsword- (1d20+5)[*25*] to hit. (1d6+3)[*8*] piercing damage, and (1d6)[*6*] from mark. EDIT- Rolls in Discord for crit. *1* piercing damage and *3* mark damage. Movement to one square west, making a bit more room and securing the bridge while not threatening a spider bite.

----------


## RandomWombat

The blade of the shortsword drives deep, missing the spider's face by inches and digging into its body. Slick bug juices spurt out of the deep wound, splattering the weapon and Borthan's arm. The creature hisses in pain.


Among the fighting around the corner, Topsy tries to get within reach to jab and punch at the quaggoth in front of her, but the creature's reach is too much longer than her own. She's fended off handily, unable to get a single lick in.

The quaggoth with death in its eyes looms over Sarith, roaring and raising up with both claws ready to rend into him. Then flesh eating spores from Stool flutter around it in the air, and it makes a groaning whine. They eat away at its wounds, widening them, and it finally falls backwards onto the ground. The one entangled in Stool's fungal growths continues struggling and trying to break free, but it cannot pull itself loose.

The third quaggoth reaches down and grabs onto Stool's body, ripping out the pulsing fungal growths where its spores have taken root to protect it.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan casts Hunter's Mark and stabs Giant Spider for *18* damage.

Topsy makes two unarmed attacks against Quaggoth, but misses.

Quaggoth takes *4* necrotic damage from Stool's spores and *2* from Jimjar's card, taking it down.
Quaggoth attempts to break free of Entangle, but fails.
Quaggoth claws Stool twice for *5* and *7* damage, absorbed by his symbiotic entity. The entity is defeated, ending the effect. Stool must roll DC 10 Concentration to keep Entangle up.

It is Nilvae, Stool, Sarith and Derendil's turns.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: 
Concentrating on: Rage (8 rounds)

The quaggoth reels back after Kronyn's stab, teeth bared as the pain doesn't quite make it's way into Derendil's mind. If anything, it just reinforced the idea that Kronyn must be exterminated with extreme prejudice. He followed Kronyn's eyes when he yelled for support, and the beast threw itself between the drow and any would be assistance. His eyes locked with his tormentor before throwing another uppercut at the chief guard with claws outstretched, ready to catch on any expose flesh and draw blood.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Moving 1 square south to block any attempt by Kronyn to escape. Claw attack- (1d20+5)[*9*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*10*] damage. (1d6)[*1*] just in case a crit happens.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

On any other day he might be quite satisfied with how well the quaggoths were holding up. It was what they were there for, after all. Today was not such a day however, and right now Sarith would much rather they all be dead at his feet. At least he has weapons now. He stabs at the hulking beast again, trying to bring his attacker down before it can do the same to him - and rid him of the chance to see Kronryn dead first. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action:* Shortsword attack (1d20+6)[*14*] Damage (1d6+4)[*10*]
*Bonus Action:*  Dagger attack. (1d20+6)[*15*] Damage (1d4)[*1*]
If one of the attacks hits, also sneak attack (1d6)[*1*] Edit: Rerolled on discord, actual SA damage is *4* this turn. 
I may reroll one of the damage die using the Piercer feat in discord, will edit if so.
*Move:* None.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Faerie Fire

Nilvae looses her last magic stone at the Prince Kronryn. Lob his head off, Bort! We play soccer with it. she says.

*Spoiler*
Show

Bonus Action: True Strike
Action: (1d20+6)[*24*] (1d20+6)[*25*]
Damage: (1d6+4)[*8*]





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Entangle

Stool emits a strained hum and reassembles the dissapating cloud of spores once again. He pushes another black cloud towards the quaggoth attacking him, the one that tried to stop the titanic orc Ront.

*Spoiler*
Show

Pacifying Spores onto attacking Quaggoth: DC 13 con save or be stunned

----------


## RandomWombat

Kronryn's blade flashes to and fro, warding away Derendil's attempts to dig his claws into the elf with frustrating efficacy. "Stupid mongrels! Get over here!" he shouts again towards the waterfall. His hollering is interrupted by a glowing stone that strikes him in the back, causing him to grunt and curse in vulgar elven.

Before Kronryn can regain his composure, the orc moves behind him, punching him in the back of the head. When he spins around to face the new opponent, the orc headbutts him in the face.


The spider on the wall catches Borthan in the arm as he moves to withdraw his weapon for a new strike. The fangs sink in and inject their venom, sending a stinging through his arm like his veins have been lit on fire from the inside out.


Both blades find their mark as Sarith thrusts forwards, piercing the quaggoth's hide. The dagger does not make it much further than a scratch, but his sword cuts clean. A puff of spores from Stool catches the quaggoth with its mouth open as it roars in defiance at Sarith, cutting off its roar into a whimper as the pacifying toxins cause it to wobble on its feet, eyes dilated and distant.

The drow caught in Stool's fungal restraints finally pulls free, raising his weapon in preparation to do battle with Sarith. "How can you stomach fighting with this filth? Couldn't even _die_ with dignity."

"Laven byon seek!" performing a series of runic symbols with his hands, Turvy incants and sends a trio of glowing blue missiles of energy over the heads of those fighting inside the cave. They impact the quaggoth in the chest, beating on him like pummeling fists.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Rolled Stool's Concentration in discord, he passed.
Derendil claws at Kronryn, but misses.
Nilvae hits Kronryn for *8* damage with a magic stone.
Sarith stabs the middle quaggoth twice for *15* damage total.
Stool uses Pacifying Spores, successfully stunning the middle quaggoth. The DC is 11, but it still failed the save.

Drow Warrior dies to the bonfire.
Drow Warrior breaks free of the Entanglement.

Ront flanks Kronryn with Derendil and makes two unarmed attacks, for *10* and *4* damage.

Giant Spider bites Borthan for *4* damage. He must make a DC 11 Con save to halve *12* poison damage.

Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing *12* force damage to middle Quaggoth.

It is now Faedryl's turn.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

]
*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

*Eighth Day, Escape*

The death of the drow in the flames had come slowly, probably painfully. She didn't take much pleasure in it. Much. Less than the Faedryl of two decades ago would have taken, at least. Now the only rush she receives from it is the knowledge it is one fewer opponent to deal with, one step closer to escape and freedom. Her actions are a rote repetition of her previous ones, working down Kronryn one spell at a time and trying - repeatedly - to shove the spider away from Bort. Perhaps third time would be the charm.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
*Bonus Action:*  Telekinetic Shove the nearby spider, it needs to beat a DC14 strength save (1d20)[*7*] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl. 
*Action:* Cast _Toll the Dead_ on Kronryn. Gotta beat a DC14 Wis save (1d20)[*9*](+modifiers) or take (1d12)[*2*] Necrotic damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

Though her magic continues to be merely an annoyance to the drow officer, Faedryl's mental shove against the spider proves more effective this time. Its many legs lose their grip on the wall and it flails in a panic, falling through the air onto the webbing below. It may not have been hurt by the fall, but the half-blood has a little more breathing room.

Kronryn's focus seems to have been worn down by her constant magical assault however, as he fumbles his next thrust against Derendil and has to stop to readjust his grip, giving the two behemoths on either side of him another opportunity to bring him down.


Shuushar folds his hands in front of him, where they glow with a soft light, ready to mend any wounds he can reach.

Detecting the weakness in the quaggoth before him, Buppido flashes forwards with his shiv and drives it deep into the creature's chest. As it drops, he is upon it, prying open the wound to leave it agape, wild-eyed and smiling widely as blood spurts out and splatters across his face, staining the white of his beard.

With a skip and a hop, Jimjar sails over the two fallen quaggoth and lands on the other side. He flicks out his leg to kick the drow warrior in the shin, following up with a palm strike that the drow bats aside, finally getting back into a combat stance now that he's free of the fungus. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, dealing *2* damage to Kronryn.
Faedryl shoves the Giant Spider, causing it to fall off of the wall and onto the web below.
Shuushar readies an action to cast Cure Wounds if Stool or Topsy are injured next to him.
Buppido Sneak Attacks the stunned Quaggoth for *18* damage, then uses an unarmed strike to inflict 2 failed death saves.

Kronryn misses Derendil with a stab.

Jimjar Sneak Attacks Drow Warrior for *12* damage, but misses the followup.

It is now Borthan's turn!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10
Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 12 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

The poison burned into Borthan's blood, sending sizzling pain through his body. His mind reeled, and for a second he felt as though he might black out. Then, miraculously, the spider was shoved back, seemingly by nothing at all. Bort looked around for the source, and his eyes fixed on Faedryl as she retreated into the cell. He remembered how Ront had been shoved backward some days ago, and he raised an eyebrow. Useful. Dangerous. Par for the course. With a little space between him and the monster, he decided that now was the perfect time for some payback.

Kronyn! Muttmeat wants to look you in the eyes when you die! Catching the drow's attention, Strong Shadow dashed across the bridge, both blades raised. He leads with the shortsword, swinging it high at the damned guard, across his chest. Rolling to the south, he threw a back hand at his tormentor, stone dagger in hand, and attempts to shive him underneath his armor with a rising strike.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Move action move West to be adjacent to Kronyn. Attack action swing the shortsword at him- (1d20+5)[*13*] to hit and (1d6+3)[*9*] damage. Take one five foot step south with remaining movement. Bonus action attack with the stone dagger- 7 to hit (rolled in Discord) and (1d4+3)[*5*] damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

Kronryn turns, attention drawn by Borthan's mocking shout. It brings him around in time to parry Borthan's high blow, and he catches Borthan's dull dagger on his heavy boot, kicking it aside. Borthan is able to keep a grip on the dagger, but his blow is deflected. "You perform _as expected_," the drow sneers, finding time even in his dire situation for petty spite.


Topsy is having as much trouble getting to the next quaggoth unarmed as the other, scowling. "Hey, cheerful gnome. Make yourself useful and give me a hand!"

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan attacks Kronryn twice, missing both.
Topsy attacks the last quaggoth, but misses. She spends a bonus action to grant Jimjar Advantage on his next attack.

Dworic and Eldeth have been forgotten by the tides of fate. They may each take two turns now.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1), Rage (1min) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Seeing their jailer surrounded, Dworic moves methodically toward him, akin to a predatory beast catching scent of its prey. He weaves his way around his fellow prisoners and hefts a stool up in both hands, swinging with all his might at the foul drow.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

- Round 1
 *Move:* 25' W to bridge
 *Action:* Dash: move to position adjacent to Ront.
 *Interaction:* pick up non-fungal stool
 *Bonus:* --

- Round 2
 *Bonus:* Rage
 *Move:* --
 *Action:* Dworic Smash stool vs Kronryn
- Attack: (1d20)[*12*] | (1d20)[*10*] *16* (used 2 Luck rolls on Discord) (ADV, Reckless Attack, -5 GWM)
- Damage: (1d8+15)[*20*] + (1d6+1)[*4*] Radiant (+2 Rage, +10 GWM, Divine Fury)

 Rage: Resistance (Bludg., Slash., Pierc.)






*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 12 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Seeing the weapons on the fallen, burned drow, Eldeth moves from her cover and snags the crossbow and sword, bringing the familiar weapons to bear against the quaggoth to the north.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

- Round 1
 *Move:* 15' NW to fallen drow
- DEX to grab hand crossbow and shortsword: (1d20+2)[*21*]
 *Action:* Hand crossbow vs Quaggoth S of Jimjar
- (1d20+5)[*22*]
- Damage: (1d6+2)[*4*]
 *Bonus:* --

- Round 2
 *Move:* --
 *Action:* Hand crossbow vs Quaggoth S of Jimjar
- (1d20+5)[*16*]
- Damage: (1d6+2)[*6*]
 *Bonus:* --

----------


## RandomWombat

It was crowded, up until now. No opening to do anything. And it seems that in that time, Dworic was brewing his rage into a mighty storm waiting to erupt. Striding across the bridge, he plucks the heavy wooden stool from the ground as if it had all the weight of a feather and brings it down across Kronryn's back. The bar brawling move must have caught the drow off guard, because he doesn't see it coming, and it knocks the wind out of him.

Dropped to one knee now, Kronryn grinds his teeth and struggles to try and stand. But before he can, Ront grabs the drow by the hair from behind, snarling with a bitter, satisfied sneer across his face. The orc plants his foot against the drow's back and shoves him to the ground, pressing his weight down until Dworic and Derendil can hear rib bones cracking. The drow's hair breaks and comes loose in the orc's oversized hand before the drow's neck can break, slamming Kronryn's face painfully down into the stone where he lay still.

The orc's eyes settle on Dworic and he makes a small, reluctant nod of recognition. *"Mighty warrior,"* the orc states in heavily accented northern Common, pounding a fist into his chest in a salute of respect.


So quickly she barely even feels the heat, Eldeth snatches the crossbow and shortsword away from the fire. The string, it seems, is more durable than mere sinew or fabric. Likely metal, and thankfully not burnt. The finish on the wood has melted and charred in places, but what the weapon lacks in beauty it makes up for in function. Two bolts slam home into the quaggoth, who stumbles and droops against the wall, before sliding down onto his rear. The bolts are poisoned, it would seem. Eldeth counts 3 more of them remaining in a small quick-holster on the side of the weapon. The drow has more bolts in a quiver on his back, but whether they too are poisoned she does not know.

Before she can reload again, there is a hiss from behind her. Eldeth whips around in time to swerve and evade the fangs of a giant spider, lunging at her after crawling up from below the bridge and into the tunnels. The deep gnome next to her spazzes out at the proximity of the creature, reaching out and waving the spider away with a crackling hand that fails to make contact, but certainly draws the beast's attention.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Dworic smashes Kronryn with a stool, dealing a whopping *24* damage.
Eldeth successfully grabs a hand crossbow and shortsword from the bonfire without burning her hands.
Eldeth shoots Quaggoth twice for *10* damage total. The first shot knocks the quaggoth unconscious with drow poison. The second shot is at disadvantage from prone, but I rolled in discord and she still hit. The quaggoth passes its save not to remain unconscious after the second hit, but is still Prone for the moment.

Ront hits Kronryn with an unarmed strike for *9* damage, KOing him. Then uses his offhand attack to deliver 2 failed death saves, putting the drow on the edge.

Giant Spider attacks Eldeth, but misses.

Turvy casts Shocking Grasp on Giant Spider, but misses.

It is now Faedryl's turn.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 12 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

*Eighth Day, Escape*

With the joining of the dwarves to battle, things seemed to be swinging even harder in their favour, and for a moment Faedryl starts considering the question of what comes after this. Hopefully her spellbook, some armour, and most importantly food and drink aplenty. She steps out of the cell once again only to see the spider she thought she'd given the group time against has reappeared already. Far faster than expected. No matter. At the speed of thought the flames still licking around the drow dissipate as she chants the incantation to create them a second time. They spring up around the many-legged fiend, aiming to incinerate it. Not content to leave it looming over the dwarf (Faedryl's new meatshield) she attempts to force it back, putting the flames between it and them.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Out of the cell, then back inside for cover after spells are cast.
*Action:* Recast _Create Bonfire_ on the spider next to Eldeth. Needs to make a DC14 dex save (1d20)[*11*]+modifier or take (1d8)[*6*] fire damage.
*Bonus Action:*  Telekinetic Shove the nearby spider, it needs to beat a DC14 strength save (1d20)[*5*] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' out of the fire onto the bridge, putting the flames between it and Eldeth (if the shove works of course). If it moves back into the fire it needs to save vs. damage again, and if it ends its turn there it needs to make save vs damage again, so potential triple dip!

----------


## RandomWombat

The spider rears back on its four back legs, reacting with instinctive speed to the fire erupting from beneath it. That same position that allows it to avoid a burn, however, leaves it unsteady. Faedryl's telekinetic shove knocks it back onto the bridge, where it scrambles back to a standing position and looks confused and warded away by the flame that had apparently shoved it.


With the quaggoth stirring from its all too brief absence from consciousness, Shuushar lays a webbed hand upon Topsy's shoulder. The gnome instinctively pulls away and makes a small grunt of annoyance, but not before a soft barrier glows just over her skin.

Buppido steps onto the hump of the fallen quaggoth's back and swings down with his shiv to sink it into the flesh of the last beastman. His fingers brutally claw into the new hole to pry it open, causing the quaggoth to yowl with more pain than real damage.

A fist from Jimjar finds its way into the last drow's kidney, and he doubles over on the ground. In one swift motion Jimjar whips the dagger from the drow's belt and delivers a short, shallow cut to the quaggoth's arm. He flinches a little seeing the brutal damage Buppido is inflicting with a cool smile.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire on Giant Spider, but it just passes its Dex save (+3 mod).
Faedryl's shove is more successful, pushing the spider back onto the bridge.
Shuushar casts Virtue on Topsy, granting her *7* temporary hp.
Buppido stabs the prone Quaggoth for *13* damage, and uses an unarmed offhand strike for *1* damage.

Kronryn passes a death save.

Jimjar critically strikes Drow Warrior with an unarmed strike for *8* damage and a KO. Jimjar picks up the drow's dagger and attacks the quaggoth for a *3* damage sneak attack.

It is now Borthan's turn.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 12 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan doesn't hesitate, but neither does he linger. Leaning down, he attempts to draw his shortsword across Kronyn's neck to end the drow's life. Killing, when it came down to it, was business after all. Taking a step to the north he used an underhanded throw to pitch the stone dagger at the giant spider, hoping to take it out of the fight, before swiftly looking for a replacement dagger and sheath from Kronyn's body, taking one if he finds it. While he definitely wanted... no, NEEDED... to have a weapon in each hand, he didn't want to piss off any of his cell mates by monopolizing the best weapons. Then, without further ado, he starts to climb the ladder up towards the armory, where there should be plenty of weapons for everyone.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Attack action try to slit Kronyn's throat with advantage. (1d20+5)[*18*] or (1d20+5)[*14*] to hit, whichever is higher. I don't think damage matters, but just in case (1d6+3)[*8*]. Then take a step north and throw the stone dagger at the spider with a bonus action. (1d20+4)[*23*] to hit and (1d4+3)[*4*] damage. Object interaction to take a dagger (and sheath, if possible) from Kronyn, then the rest of my move up the ladder (I think it's within range) and head for the goodies.

----------


## RandomWombat

The stone dagger impacts the spider in the back, lodging into its chitinous body. The creature spins around and hisses at the newly announced threat, but Borthan has already relieved Kronryn of life and weapon and ascended the ladder with due haste, reaching as far as the trapdoor above.


Emboldened by the vigor of Shuushar's orison, Topsy leaps up and kicks off of the cave wall with her foot, diving onto the Quaggoth and delivering a flying kick to its throat. The creature chokes and gasps for air before passing out, and Topsy keeps her foot firmly pressed down, starving it for air even if her weight is not enough to completely break its windpipe. At last, the creature's breathing stops altogether and it goes still. Only then does she remove her boot and sigh in relief, turning to face the path to freedom.

But then, suddenly, a feral shout causes her to jump. One of the quaggoth has roused from its unconsciousness and surged upwards, landing atop Buppido. It lays into the derro with its claws, savaging him across the face and chest.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan executes Kronryn, then tosses a dagger at Giant Spider for *4* damage. He finds another dagger on Kronryn. His Use Item action taking the dagger prevents him from opening the trapdoor, but he makes it up the ladder to the space next to it.
Topsy critically hits Quaggoth with an unarmed strike Sneak Attack for *19* damage for a KO, and strikes with her offhand for 2 failed death saves.

Two Quaggoths fail death saves and perish.
One Quaggoth critically succeeds a death save and lunges back up from Prone to attack Buppido for *22* damage total, KOing him.

Nilvae, Stool, Sarith and Derendil are up.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 14/16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Loss was no stranger to Sarith, especially not now, and he can't say he particularly feels anything positive or negative when Buppido falls to the ground. Such was life. Such was death. Still, the quaggoth may turn on him next, and he still had a few things he wished to do. He had to see Kronryn die, for instance. Though he can - and would - do nothing for the derro himself, Sarith does still launch attacks into the attacking beast's back, looking to put it down once and for all. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action:* Shortsword attack (1d20+6)[*13*] Damage (1d6+4)[*8*]
*Bonus Action:*  Dagger attack. (1d20+6)[*8*] Damage (1d4)[*2*]
If one of the attacks hits, also sneak attack (1d6)[*3*]
I may reroll one of the damage die using the Piercer feat in discord, will edit if so.
*Move:* None.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Faerie Fire

The half-elf looks around for more stones, but sees her companions struggle without weapons. Bort has made it obvious the weapons are up there. A silvery wind catches her swiftly, and suddenly she is landing in the armory, looking for weapons to throw down.

Coulda thought about that sooner, Bort. she admonishes the half-elf for her own lack of creativity.

*Spoiler*
Show

Bonus Action Misty Step to land in the armory. If unable she teleports onto the ladder at the highest possible point, climbs up and searches the area.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Entangle

Friend heal? resounds in Buppido's mind as Stool thrusts the thin root-like protrusions he uses as arms right down Buppido's throat to cast a spell. The small myconid exhales loudly, and infuses the devolved dwarf with a greyish-white liquid; Likely another strain of spores.

*Spoiler*
Show

a bit of a metal way to Cure Wounds upcast to Lv 2 (2d8+3)[*11*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 13 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: 
Concentrating on: Rage (7 Rounds)

Derendil watches the half-elf execute his enemy, and a shiver of animalistic pleasure tingles us his spine- the feeling of knowing your enemy is conquered, and you have outlasted them. But the fight is not over. The quaggoth sniffs the air, scenting great amounts of blood back in the direction of the cell. _Go! Go you infernal beast! Allies could be dying back there!_ The prince frantically tried to seize control of his own body, but the bloodlust of the savage was still upon him. But there was no need to worry- while the elf wanted to go back to aid allies, the quaggoth wanted to go back to spill more blood. Charging back across the bridge and picking up speed, Derendil launched himself at the giant spider with a roar of challenge, bringing down his sharp claws in a strike meant to rip and tear the arachnid open.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Moving back to the bridge. To hit on the spider- (1d20+5)[*21*] and (1d6+5)[*10*] damage. (1d6)[*5*] in case of a crit.

----------


## RandomWombat

In a single step, Nilvae crosses the gap of the bridge, appearing next to Ront and Dworic as if from thin air. She slips past the two muscled brutes to clamber up the ladder behind Borthan, but the two of them soon find themselves a little tangled up as she tries to slip past to reach the trapdoor. 

Barreling past them, Derendil leaps upon the spider with deadly claws, pinning it to the wood of the bridge through its segmented body. The creature twitches a little, but the fight seems to have left it.


Spluttering on the fungal mixture forced down his throat, Buppido launches up from his sitting position, coughing Stool's protrusions out of his mouth and glaring up at the quaggoth. Buppido reaches for his shiv, tutting his tongue at the menacing monster. "You are going to-" his words are cut off as Sarith drives his weapons into the quaggoth's back and it topples once more. "Nevermind. Best finish the job this time..." he murmurs softly to himself.

With the fighting over, Buppido scoops his shiv off of the ground and sets to slitting throats of those still breathing, before they get up once again.

Shuushar looks away from the grim task, stepping towards those gathered at the bridge. "Perhabls we could block some of blem up?" he suggests to Eldeth and Turvy, motioning a webbed hand at the cell door.

"Uh," Turvy stammers a little, put on the spot. "Somebody else's call put out the fire please."


Finishing their ascendance up the ladder, Borthan and Nilvae enter the armory. It is a small circular room which contains a ring of wooden chests. They are unlocked and looted easily, yielding their contents.

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

Each of the *3* (accessible) drow warriors has on them:
-1 Shortsword
-1 Dagger
-1 Hand Crossbow
-15 crossbow bolts
-5 crossbow bolts coated in Drow Poison
-1 Chain Shirt

Borthan has a weapon that the drow warrior who fell in the web had on him, but the rest of his equipment is down with him.

Kronryn has:
-1 Shortsword
-1 Dagger
-1 Hand Crossbow
-15 crossbow bolts
-5 crossbow bolts coated in Drow Poison
-1 suit of Studded Leather armor
-1 Shield

(Some of the above has already been taken)

They have 38 gp, 20 sp in pocket change on them altogether.

*Spoiler: Giant Spider: Nature or Survival DC 12*
Show

With a container, such as some mugs the drow were drinking from in their guard post, venom could be extracted from the giant spider. It would retain its potency only for a short while (until next long rest) unless put in a properly sealed and stoppered container.

Succeeding the check produces 2 doses of Giant Spider venom. Exceeding the check by 5 or more produces 4 doses of venom.


The armory contains:
-6 Chain Shirts
-6 suits of Studded Leather Armor
-6 Shields
-6 Hand Crossbows
-20 cases of crossbow bolts, containing 20 bolts each
-6 Shortswords
-10 Daggers
-6 bags of Caltrops
-4 100-foot long coils of silk rope
-2 carpentry hammers (clubs if used as a weapon)
-2 bags of pitons, with 10 pitons in each bag


*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae teleports past the spider and fire into the stalactite, climbing up the ladder behind Borthan. Unfortunately, he is blocking the way up.
Stool heals Buppido for *11* hit points.
Sarith strikes Quaggoth for an *11* damage sneak attack that KOs, his offhand attack instead dealing an automatic crit for 2 failed death saves.
Derendil rips and tears the Giant Spider for *10* damage, which KOs it.

All enemies are down. Combat has ended, for the moment, and the party has free reign of the immediate area to put down their enemies as needed. Initiative order will be saved for when it continues.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan grins as he and Nilvae get into the armory. Without further ado, he sets about looting the chests and piling their contents, putting like with like, until all the chests are empty. Sliding down the ladder, he speaks at a moderate volume so those close by can hear. Crazy Borthan's murder emporium is open for business! We've got weapons, armor, and some useful crap too. Spread the word to the others, but do it quietly. We don't want the rest of the drow to come down on us while we're suiting up.That done, Borthan turns to climb back up, but he stops, looking at Kronyn's corpse. He leans down and relieves the deceased of another dagger and a fancy looking shortsword. He didn't linger to debate who deserved the trophies, instead climbing back into the armory. There he retrieved one bundle of rope (you can never have enough, in his experience) and one of the chain shirts for himself. Holding the armor in his hands, Borthan looks over at Nilvae and smiles even wider. Always wanted one of these, but my boss said it was too expensive for a mere slave. Guess he never thought I'd get some for free. He sets about putting the chain shirt on, getting used to the range of motion, and watching as the others come claim their bounty. If there was anything left he might go back for seconds.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:

Derendil stands, withdrawing his claws from the body of the arachnid. He looks around, sniffs the air, and looks for the next target. But none presents itself. The only ones remaining standing were the prisoners from the cell he was destined for. With a massive exhale of breath, his body relaxes, and in a rush of exhaustion the prince's mind reasserted control over his body. The beast, for now, was satiated. Trembling slightly, Derendil looked over the carnage, the executions, and the blood that stained his fur, feeling himself gag. He needed a bath. He needed his spellbook. But more than anything, he needed to follow the half-blood's advice and prepare himself for the next fight. Reaching down to the studded leather armor of the jailor, he used his claws to rip off a small piece of the armor. Incanting in elvish, he felt the invisible force field of his mage armor spell clutch tight to his skin, and on top of that a slightly shimmering ward formed around the quaggoth. Immediately he felt reassured- they could do this. They could escape. Lifting the jailor's shield, he strapped it to his arm. It was unfamiliar compared to his own, even more so in this cumbersome form, but it would serve. He cleared his throat and addressed those underneath the armory in his approximation of undercommon. I am equipped enough with these claws and this shield. I will stand guard while you all prepare.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Both character's sheets have been updated to reflect what they ACTUALLY are carrying. Starter gear has been saved in notepad.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --
*Eighth Day, Escape*

Faedryl sighs with quiet relief as the fight ends. Their first of many, no doubt, this was just the prelude, the opening salvo, but they'd done well, she thinks, as she counts up the dead. None of theirs, and 8 of the outpost. Roughly one third of their fighting strength depleted, assuming she also counts Duskryn, who seemed to still be sat on his own in the corner. They hadn't fought the priestess, so his vengeance had yet to be exacted. Probably for the best, it kept him off their back for the moment. 

She can dispel her flames at the speed of thought with no motion required other than simply letting the spell drop, but nevertheless she adds the flair of a fingersnap, allowing them to die down in an instant. She can finally step free of the 'safety' of the cell, immediately heading to the armoury in search of her equipment, and anything else useful they might have. There's clear disappointment that her spellbook and component pouch are nowhere to be found, leaving her still half-hobbled with regards to spellcasting, but she feels a lot safer with a shield strapped to her arm and the new chain shirt covering her. "That was good work." She says to those grabbing gear, clear awkwardness in her tone over praising others - she's forcing herself to do it, because that's what she expects someone in this situation would say, and she's still trying to make the 'fight together' part work. "We still have more to go, but things are looking well."




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith sighs with exerted relief as the fight dies down, giving his arms a chance to rest, leaving the executions after the fight to the rest. He sits for a moment, panting softly, before realising that he has yet to see Kronryn among the living or dead. So caught up in the exchange of blows was he that he'd neglected to seek out the fool. He springs to his feet, urgency buoying him on legs that bring him face to face with the corpse of his would-be torturer and failed captor. Sarith grits his teeth, a flush of anger rushing from his belly with a fire that he didn't know was still inside of him. The blood pooling told him that he was truly dead, not merely unconscious. He'd missed it. He'd missed again. Another loss. Anger loosened he lashes out at the body, kicking it, punching it, brutalising the already dead man, just as Faedryl slides down the ladder in her stolen armour. She regards him coolly, saying nothing, but he can feel her judging gaze on his back. Was it approval? Mockery? Did it even matter? It did, he realises, and his assault slows to a stop. Emotional and physical weariness both bring it to an end.

He strips Kronryn of gear entirely, leaving him in nothing but his smallclothes, before dragging the body to the wooden bridge and tossing him from it. Let the spiders feast, let the ooze devour. Let Kronryn vanish from this world. A world he still remained in. Outlasted. Outlived. Sarith had nothing but his life. Kronryn now had even less. The thought brings a smile to his face as he passes Faedryl by to gather equipment of his own.

*"Ilvara will send people to check us soon,"* Sarith offers to the others once he has claimed gear of his own. He's still missing his bow, but the crossbow would work in the meantime. *"We could lay in wait for an ambush, or try to rush them before they're prepared."* They had enough gear and people that they could probably succeed, though they had to be worried about being blocked off from the rest of the outpost. If the drow took down the bridges, they'd only have one way out - down. 



*Spoiler: Items Claimed*
Show


Faedryl:
1x Shield
1x Chain shirt
2x Dagger

Sarith, including the combat-looted items:
1x studded leather
1x Shortsword
1x Dagger
1x Hand crossbow
10 x poison bolts
60 x normal bolts

Updated on sheets

----------


## RandomWombat

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Ront forces his tired body forwards and climbs up the ladder to browse Borthan's 'emporium' himself. Plucking a chain shirt from the floor, he holds it up to his body. It is sized much to small for him, his bulging arms and broad shoulders dwarfing the sleek elven armor. With a grunt, he tosses it aside to someone else and picks up a set of studded leather. It, at least, has straps that he can adjust. After looking at the piddly pig-stickers the drow have to offer, he straps a shield to his arm and picks up a hand crossbow, hanging it off of a quiver of a few bolts - just in case. Then he slides down the ladder to stand near the bridge forward.

The orc stares at Derendil, gnawing at his lip. He doesn't seem to understand much, if at all, of what is being said. Turning to Dworic, he asks in rough surface Common, *"Kill them all?"*


As the flames subside, Turvy scuttles over the dying spider and over the bridge, joining Faedryl as she goes up to get equipped. His sister is not far behind him, the two gnomes sift through the options. Faedryl can well recognize the disappointment on the male gnomes' face when he finds no spellbook, for it mirrors her own. "I think I'll just stick with my spells," he tells his sister, but she picks up a dagger and shoves it into his hands. "Don't be daft. If we run into faerzress you'll be vulnerable." "a," is all he says, awkwardly holding the weapon and finding somewhere to attach the sheathe. His sister plucks a few lightweight daggers out for herself and twirls them, using one of the dead drows' belts as a makeshift bandolier. "Besides, knives are useful for all kinds of things. Never leave home without a knife."


Picking up a hand crossbow and some ammunition from the drow near the quaggoth den, Jimjar steps away and leans against the wall near their cell, keeping out of the crowd around the guard station and armory. He flashes a pearly white smile at Eldeth, idly flipping a gold coin between his fingers in a display of legerdemain, but otherwise leaving the group to settle their own accounts.


No one seems keen on stopping Buppido's smooth and methodical slicing of every still-breathing throat that had opposed them, so Shuushar quietly walks to the armory, not be begrudging this victory over their captors. Sliding on a chain shirt that's slightly too large for his short and thin frame, he also picks up a shield. The kuo-toa shows no interest in arming with a weapon as he descends to stand near Derendil. A webbed finger softly taps the quaggoth's side, and he asks in a burbling voice, "Would you allow me blo mend your wounds?"


At last, Buppido squats among the messy business to the north. The derro moves at his own pace, slowly and carefully carving open the chest of one of the dead drow to pry open the ribs by force. In bloodstained hands he takes up the heart of his enemy, standing up and leaning his head back with eyes closed. With his stone shiv he tears a hole within the muscular organ and lets the blood wash over his hand, then begins drawing his fingers across his face, perhaps the one place on him not yet totally drenched in blood. It leaves smears across his cheeks like warpaint, and lastly he takes a deep bite of the organ in his hand.

"Drink deep the strength of the fallen, and you have no need for armor." His soft-spoken words are heard only by Stool, the one nearest him, but it's unclear if they are to the myconid or to himself. Buppido offers his healer only a serene smile before dropping the bitten heart behind him and walking back to the group. There is no attempt to armor up, and he seems perfectly satisfied with the cutting tool in his hand. Taking a seat at the guards' table, Buppido takes a sip of their mug of water.

*Spoiler: NPC Equipment Claims*
Show

Ront:
1 Studded Leather
1 Shield
1 Hand Crossbow
10 bolts (normal)

Turvy:
1 Dagger

Topsy:
1 Studded Leather
4 Daggers

Jimjar:
1 Hand Crossbow
5 bolts (poisoned)
20 bolts (normal)

Shuushar:
1 Chain Shirt
1 Shield

Buppido:
The blood of his enemies 
Nothing

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn) 
Concentration: -

Nilvae was joyed to find some armor even though the practical if elegant drow style was not her first choice. Not enough flower motifs, and certainly too little flourishes. She also took a dagger, a shortsword and a handcrossbow. She raises her hand and moves it in front of her face, revealing Kronryn's visage to Borthan. This could prove useful. After some consideration, she changes the glamor a bit to include a hood. When a random drow guard is better suited, I can switch. she says, switching from the faces of three different drow, each less distinguishable than the last, but all male.

Nilvae looked around with Borthan who was so happy to finally find tools to murder people. The woman found that a bit weird. Now that they were free, her second thought was about her pets. Mr Spide and Muttley must be here somewhere! I will not leave without them. she says with the deep baritone of a typical drow but her typical easily excitable manner. 




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Friend healthy? Stool happy! it appears in Buppido's mind. Stool shimmies about, looking for a suitably large pot lid or other shield. He takes a hammer suitable for his enchantments. The small fungus fiddles with the head, removing the metal piece from it, wielding just the stick. Happy with his improvement, he stashes the small stick into his side, where it sticks between his body and hyphae. He was just an amalgamation of spores after all. 

Waddling over to Nilvae, he claims. Cannot be Prince, elf. Cannot be if real prince is here. Want to dispose of body. he messages all, in the happiest and most cheerful sound one can imagine. The tiny shroom tries to push Kronryn off the cliff, but struggles to even push the slender elf a few inches. Sadly he addsCannot push, and cannot eat such healthy meat, not this much and not so fast.

*Spoiler*
Show

I'm gonna fluff Stool's inventory as quasi hammer space where he just stuff items into himself.

Claimed items.
Studded Leather (drow)
Shortsword
dagger
Hand Crossbow
10 Bolts, 1 poisoned
2 bags of caltrops

1 hammer without its head

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

She doesn't know what a "Mr Spide" or "Muttley" are (were, potentially) but Faedryl sees no reason to entertain the idea of leaving before the work here was done. Stolen arms and armour would take them only a short distance, they needed traveling supplies - supplies that were in the outpost proper, and as much of a lead on any pursuers as they could get. Easier to be rid of pursuers if you'd already killed them all. "We're going to take the outpost," Faedryl replies to Nilvae-Kronryn, her voice self-assured. Any adrenaline from the battle has worn thin with the gear collection. She nods in Ront's direction, echoing his words. "Kill them all." 

She wonders, idly, if any of the guards surrendered - if Duskryn surrendered - if she'd let them live. The likelihood of a surrender was slim to none, but would she take mercy? Could she even give it? The rest of the prisoners probably wouldn't, so perhaps it didn't matter, and worrying about hypotheticals seemed a waste of time right now.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith watches the myconid with barely concealed distrust. Words and words it said, childlike and 'innocent', but beneath them Sarith is _sure_ he can feel the undercurrent of a malevolent intelligence. Myconids were alien in nature. A person he could understand, they had desires and wants and hatreds, but myconids were far removed from anything drow or other, lesser, races wanted, and that made them dangerous. Untrustworthy. He pushes it away though, it was still his only link to his madness, for now. If the myconid provokes distrust, then the derro provokes disgust. It seemed almost beastial in its consumption of the innards. Revolting.

----------


## RandomWombat

In the quaggoth den, among the bones of their meals, Stool finds some digging equipment still sitting around - including a hammer suitable to its stick-related needs.

After all equipment has been gathered and claimed, the gnome twins sit above in the trapdoor so as to make more room in the cramped space of the guard post below. "That's a smart idea, stealing the drow's face with an illusion," Topsy compliments, when she sees Nilvae's plan coming together. "With the waterfall to muffle sound they must not know we're free yet. Otherwise the quaggoth guards would have come running."

"Why not send a new guard shift in," Buppido suggests calmly while he takes another sip of water.

*Spoiler: Perception DC 12*
Show

The unconscious spiders below on the web, previously incapacitated by the buzzing of the demons, are starting to twitch and come to.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

As the first to start armoring himself, Borthan is the first to be done. Feeling the pains of his wounds, he still felt much better clad in iron and wielding the same. He snagged a few more daggers from the dead drow in case he was relegated to backline duty by further wounds. Descending the ladder, he was disgusted (but not shocked) to see the derro reveling in blood and gore. He was relieved, in a small way. He'd almost begun to buy that meticulous grooming and polite language. This just confirmed what he already knew- that creature was trouble. Taking a moment to make final sure his weapons were strapped and ready, he gave Buppido a lingering look of acknowledgement before turning to see the myconid budling trying to push Kronyn's corpse over the edge of the cliff. Smiling, he walked over. When Nilvae began making faces at him, he grinned. We'll get your damn pets back. And I can pull the same trick, if you need another guard. One of my many talents. But I can't do it often. Do you need another friendly face to pull this off? Then he scooted down on one knee, and added his muscle to the efforts of the mushroom. He had to admit he looked adorable in the makeshift armor wielding the haft of a hammer. But after seeing the way his spores ate away at the quaggoth, he knew better than to underestimate.Lemme help little guy. Here's hoping that if those other spiders come to, they'll enjoy our special friend here long enough for us to be long gone. He didn't revel in his kills like the insane derro, but it did feel good to push Kronyn's corpse off a cliff. When Faedryl declared her intent for the outpost, Borthan shrugged. Fine with me, but if this all goes to hell we make a run for the lift. And some of you strong guys, help carry more of this rope. If they're smart they'll cut the lift before we can take it, and if that happens there's only one way down.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil cringed away from the display of the derro, closing his eyes and snarling under his breath. Such savagery was... well unbecoming to say the least and absolutely disgusting at worst. Then he remembered the blood that was rapidly drying into his fur and his revulsion only grew. To think that he could be reduced to this. Murdering, even if it was the hated dark elves, was never his preference. But there was no way he was going to get back to his lands and his father's throne without utilizing every tool at hand. And if that meant he had to claw his way back to the surface, so be it. Thankfully he still had his spells prepared, and his most important one required no components to use. He waited, watching anxiously, as the motely crew of prisoners began to unite towards a single purpose again.

----------


## Spore

[QUOTE=Spore;24954874]
*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

The half-elf narrows her eyes as she tries to listen. A familiar chitter is heard. She thinks it to be Mr Spide, and incants another fey arcanum, easily understood to be a simple spell to communicate with animals. Nilvae chitters back into the crowd. You hear a clicking of mandibles where there are none. If the previous cheerful drow male was disconcerting, the drow male chittering to his pet spiders was just plain weird.

She then turns to Borthan and shrugs. We could pose as the only survivors of the demon onslaught. I have a way of convincing people, if you help me.

*Spoiler: Speaking in "Spider"*
Show

You down there. There are monsters about, vanish or be eaten! But before you go, can you point me to the direction of some odd spider? It is one that transforms into an ugly surface horse. Like Rothe, but stronger and less meat. I will take it with me, so your masters focus their prices and treats on you again.


*Spoiler*
Show

Diplomacy (1d20+6)[*7*]





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Seeing the heart offered to eat, Stool immediately understood. Eat stuff, become stronger is also myconid way. The creature exudes a cloud of blue vapor, that sets itself onto the heart and immediately starts to dissolve the meat. In a matter of seconds, it smells like rotten flesh, and Stool devours the thing whole, with only strings of rotten meat and coagulated blood hanging from its "mouth".

Stool then notes the eyes Sarith gives him and waddles over. This one does not trust Stool. Why? We are friend. the amalgation of hyphae, spores says as it closes in with a poop bucket on its head, reeking off all kinds of things. It was pretty adorable still even if its cute charm was muffled in refuse and gore. Not waiting for the answer, Stool exudes a cloud of familiar spores, to be inhaled by everyone, willing or no.

Stool reverberates in everyone's thoughts. Maybe we talk with mind? Concentrate on person you want to hear, and it hears it in its mind. We are linked by the song of Psilofyr. Indeed, you all can suddenly hear a small hum. One on a level that would are certain you were unable to hear before. It is however not clear, but instead sounds like it is drowning in a sea of mud. Is song of wilds, of Underdark. But is muffled. Maybe big flies ruin it.

----------


## RandomWombat

When Borthan descends again, Shuushar takes note that he, too, is rather badly injured. But before the kuo-toa can begin healing either Borthan or Derendil, the spiders begin to stir. Nilvae attempts to communicate, the indecipherable chittering clicking and clacking under the sound of the waterfall nearby. 

*Spoiler: Spider Speech*
Show

"Such pity, the servants have perished," one of the spiders bemoans, near the fallen corpse of Kronryn. "Sisters! My sisters, there are intruders!" her voice is high pitched and shrill to Nilvae's ear.

"Who speaks in the tongue of Lolth now, among dead servants, sister?" the second spider calls back after Nilvae calls out to them.

"Slaves freed, walking unchained. I see them sister," the first spider answers, looking up at the bridge from which Kronryn was dropped.


The spiders begin moving towards the stalactite and cave walls, to climb up and confront the escapees.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

As Nilvae is the one that can understand the spiders' aggression, Initiative begins on her turn count - after her, Derendil, Sarith, and Stool can also act. Since there are no (present/aware) enemies right now between them, Dworic and Eldeth can also act in this block.

Since about 10 minutes passed between the initial combat and the continuation, Dworic and Eldeth can still equip themselves as they please in the past, before combat started again.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Looking down the chasm, the half-elf-turned-drow points down, and with magical reverberation marks another set of stones with lime green light. LIME IS EVIL! THESE SPIDERS ARE SERVANTS OF LOLTH! she shrieks in a tone wholly unnatural for a male drow prince and throws a rock.

*Spoiler*
Show

Magic Stone onto the closer spider for 21 to hit and 4 blunt damage.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: -

Stool also reacts by sending out a small stream of spores, eating away at the closer spider's orifices.

*Spoiler*
Show

Chill Touch for 24 to hit and 2 necrotic damage

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 14/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

It seemed to Sarith like they'd just deliberately attracted the attention of the spiders for no good reason, which seemed at odds with the prisoner's stated plans of escape - why invite further conflict when they were already wearied and injured? Still, what was done was done, and though spiders were Lolth's children he saw no reason to feed himself to them. Languidly, lazily, he points his newly acquired crossbow at one and looses a bolt towards the arachnid assailant. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action:* Hand Crossbow (normal bolt) (1d20+8)[*27*] Damage: (1d6+4)[*5*]
*Bonus Action:*  Second Wind because I forgot to do it earlier (1d10+1)[*5*] heal. New HP: 19/23
Probably no sneak attack.
*Move:* Doesn't look like any movement is needed on the map.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Dworic takes a moment to steady himself once the last of the drow falls. He nods at Ront in thanks for his earlier compliment but says nothing, his silent rage subsiding as his calloused fingers feel the heft of his improvised weapon. He follows the others up the ladder and takes quick stock of the items, picking up a few supplemental weapons for close quarters and a coil of rope alongside other abseiling equipment.

He watches the discussion unfolding before him and shrugs as Ront asks him a question, replying in Common *"This one is with us,"* he motions towards Derendil. *"I'm sure there will be others to fight soon."*

Of course, as soon as he finishes speaking he hears the strange chittering sounds from the transformed half-elf-drow and the now all-too familiar sounds of spiders moving in. He grunts and moves south, hefting his club in a challenge to the approaching arachnid.

*Spoiler: Round 1*
Show


 *Move:* blocking the entrance
 *Action:* Ready Attack vs Spider if it moves within range
*Spoiler: Attack rolls*
Show

- Attack: (1d20+5)[*15*]
- Damage (1d8+3)[*9*]

 *Bonus:* --


*Spoiler: Items Claimed*
Show

- Shortsword
- Dagger x2
- 100' Rope
- Hammer, bag of pitons





*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 15 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Combat over, Eldeth moves quickly to the Armory to equip herself, unconsciously seeking the company of the only other dwarf around. She pulls on a chain shirt and slings bolt cases around her now threadbare belt. *"Rope is useful, and pitons,"* she says to no one in particular, her scout training kicking in.

She opens her mouth to weigh in on their next move but quickly shuts it as Nilvae and some of the others move into action yet again. With a determined click of her tongue, she moves forward and levels one of her new hand crossbows at a spider and lets loose a bolt.

*Spoiler: Round 1*
Show

 *Move:* position on roll20
 *Action:* Hand crossbow vs W Spoder
- Attack: (1d20+5)[*21*]
- Damage: (1d6+2)[*6*]
 *Bonus:* --


*Spoiler: Items Claimed*
Show

- Shortsword
- Dagger x2
- 100' Rope
- Hammer, bag of pitons
- Hand crossbow x2
- 5 cases of bolts
- 4 poisoned bolts (the rest available if I'm counting it correctly)
- Chain Shirt
- 2x caltrop bags

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil jerks when he realizes combat is upon them again, quickly moving up beside the stout dwarf on the bridge. He never thought he would fight side by side with a dwarf, but if you asked him he would have told you it was infinitely more probable that standing with a drow. Raising his shield, he began to speak to the Lolth touched beast in elvish. Pardon me, arachnid filth, but would you stay there for a moment? You see, I've forgotten to bring my boots to this fight, and I fear I'll have nothing to wear while I stomp you into goo and mashed exoskeleton. Preparing for a response, he attempts to taunt the spider into charging him, giving the dwarf an opening to skewer the creature.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Move onto the bridge. Dodge action. Free action to talk smack at the buggies.

----------


## RandomWombat

The stone strikes exoskeleton with a cracking noise, and the spider hisses a stream of indignities at Nilvae. 

*Spoiler: Spider Speech*
Show

"Sickening creature! As worthless as the male face you wear! Unworthy to feel Lolth's name upon your wriggling worm tongue!"


Stool's spores settle into the wound, causing it to wrinkle up and crack further as decay takes root. It makes a perfect spot for Sarith to land a bolt. The length of wood spears into arachnid flesh, and the creature begins to crawl up with vengeance in mind - not at Sarith, but at the false drow speaking the goddess' name in vain. Climbing the wall up the side of the chamber, the creature stabs and swipes its fangs at Nilvae. The warlock is just able to duck back in time, keeping her balance and avoiding backstepping off of the bridge.


On the other side of the downward hanging guard 'tower', Eldeth and the orc Ront use their crossbows to unleash their own volley upon the spider below them. The orc seems familiar with the weapon at least, holding it steady in a single hand and loosing a pinpoint shot in spite of the tired rings below his eyes. He steps back inside to begin the process of reloading.

As the creature climbs up the wall of the stalactite, Dworic brings down his club to meet it, crunching against the arachnid's eight-eyed face. The spiteful creature answers with fangs sinking into his leg. The flesh around the bite rapidly becomes discolored by a flood of deadly venom.


Inside of the reverse spire, Turvy climbs down the ladder and takes stock of what's going on. Through the opening that leads to their former cell he can see the spider clearly on the wall, and raises his hand with an icy glow. "Frigus," he recites, his invocation creating a beam that leaves frigid frost creeping along the spider's back.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae pummels Giant Spider with a Magic Stone for *4* damage.
Stool casts Chill Touch upon Giant Spider for *2* damage.
Sarith shoots Giant Spider for *5* damage, and heals himself for *5* with his Second Wind.
Eldeth shoots Other Giant Spider for *6* damage.
Dworic readies an attack.
Derendil Dodges.
Ront shoots Other Giant Spider for *4* damage.

Giant Spider climbs up, 
Other Giant Spider climbs up, taking Dworic's *9* damage readied attack. It bites Dworic for *5* piercing damage and *12* poison damage. He can save for half with DC 11 Con - remember also, that dwarves have Advantage against poison.

Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Giant Spider, dealing *4* cold damage and slowing it for a turn.

It is Faedryl's turn!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --
*Eighth Day, Escape*

In her last life she'd have flayed them all for assaulting Lolth's children so pointlessly, but the spider queen gave her little succor now, and the needs of Faedryl came first. A not insignificant part sees this as beneath her - slaughtering animals like a slave might do, but a greater part of her wanted the matter dealt with quickly, quietly and ideally before additional reinforcements arrived to press them. Feeling a lot more comfortable in her acquired armour she strides past the female dwarf and unleashes a clang from her mouth against the closest spider, looking to end its life with as much mercy as she can muster. It was, still, a touch too close to them however, and she follows up with a mental shove, looking to throw it back down to the webbing.

*Spoiler*
Show


*Move:* Getting into a position to see leftspider.
*Action:* Cast Toll the Dead on the spider. Gotta beat a DC14 Wis save (1d20)[*15*]+modifiers) or take (1d12)[*12*] Necrotic damage.
*Bonus Action:* Telekinetic Shove the nearby spider, it needs to beat a DC14 strength save (1d20)[*17*] (+modifiers) or be shoved 5' away from Faedryl - trying to dislodge him. In the event leftspider dies, shove will go on rightspider instead, with any movement necessary to get line of effect.

----------


## RandomWombat

The telekinetic and mystical assault is weathered soundly by the creature, which pushes back against Faedryl's shove and hisses in anger.


Unable to reach any of the wounded... aside from Buppido, who seems content to sit at the table, Shuushar moves up beside Eldeth and places a webbed hand upon her shoulder. In spite of any revulsion she might feel to the fishman, a strange moment of clarity and calm fills her. "Do as one feels one must. I obbfer subport."

The derro looks in either direction at the crowded bridges. With the soft sigh of the lightly inconvenienced, he downs the rest of the water in his mug and steps up behind Sarith. Tilting his head, the corrupted dwarf takes aim and hurls the mug at the spider. The wood clatters against the wall beneath the spider, falling too short. Seemingly content that he has expended some effort, Buppido walks back to the table.

From around the corner near Nilvae, Jimjar steps forward and tries to deliver a kick to the spider, but it swivels back and hisses at him. Gambling at the risk of its fangs, he flicks his hand forward and jabs a finger right into its eye, stunning the creature just long enough to withdraw his hand to safety.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, but leftspider resists.
Faedryl's telekinetic shove is likewise resisted.
Shuushar casts Guidance on Eldeth, granting her a d4 to spend on a d20 roll.
Buppido throws a mug at rightspider, missing.
Jimjar makes two unarmed strikes against rightspider, hitting with the second for a *10* damage sneak attack.

Borthan's turn is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan rose up from his pushing position with murder in his eyes. They didn't have time for this. They were already wounded. And, most of all, he was beginning to hate spiders. He stepped forward and rammed both shortswords upwards, attempting to impale the spider on his blades. Should the Lolth touched creature die, he will move back into the armory tower, looking for more water to drink while the others finish off the other arachnid.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Attacking the spider. Bonus action attack the spider with the other hand. (1d20+5)[*6*] and (1d20+5)[*19*] to hit, with (1d6+3)[*4*] and (1d6+3)[*5*] damage. If the spider dies he will move back into the bottom floor of the armory.

----------


## RandomWombat

The first blade flashes past the spider, but Borthan corrects his arm with the second and cuts deeply into the side of the spider's face. The arachnid loses consciousness and falls from the wall to land on the webs next to the dead drow below.

As he sidles past the others on the bridge to get back inside, Topsy slides down the ladder to land next to her brother. "This place is too small," she points out, looking at the crowded room around her. There's nothing she can do to reach the spider on the other side of their group, so she does last adjustments on her equipment straps and waits.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan misses rightspider with one attack, but hits with the other for *5* damage and a KO.
Topsy is unable to reach a target.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith, Stool, Dworic and Eldeth are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

The gnome was correct, there was little Sarith could do to assist with the other spider given the throng of people in his path. Instead he fills the gap with the knocked out spider, aims, and looses his second bolt, looking to put the creature out of its misery. Whether you called it a mercy kill or inflicting unnecessary additional pain probably depends on how you view Sarith. He's not quite sure which it is either, if he's totally honest with himself. Possibly a bit of both. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Not clear if Sarith can get within 5' or if the KO'd spider has dropped away, but if he can, he gets advantage+autocrits. Moving closer either way. 
*Action:* Hand Crossbow (normal bolt) (1d20+8)[*21*] Advantage for KO? (1d20+8)[*11*]  Damage: (1d6+4)[*5*] + crit (1d6)[*2*]
Possible sneak attack if advantage (1d6)[*3*] + crit (1d6)[*5*]
*Bonus Action:* None.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Probably invoking the elegance and speed of her drow self, Nilvae dances about, stabbing the spider a few times and finishes in a rather unnnecessary flourish. Elvish blademaster! Look at me, I'm Drizz't. she adds, mocking the spider further with the name of the traitor drow.

*Spoiler*
Show

Nilvae shivs the spider for 19 to hit and 6 damage.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (10/10 rds.) 
Concentration: - 

The small myconid invokes the power of Psilofyr, enlarging his tiny cudgel with both of his arm's hyphae. Soon, the halfling-sized mushroom swings a weapon befitting a giant, but still with the same ease as a tiny stick.

*Spoiler*
Show

Shillelagh for 24 to hit and 9 damage.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

The spider firmly remained beyond Derendil's reach, much to his annoyance. Without a ranged weapon to assault it, it fell to his spell craft to strike the spider down. Whispering chants of winter in Elvish, he extends his hand and a light blue beam shot from it towards the spider, seeking to freeze it solid.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Ray of frost. (1d20+4)[*21*] to hit. (1d8)[*1*] cold damage on hit. Then move south west along to bridge to make room and check out what's coming next.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 35/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Dworic grits his teeth as the spider's fangs sink into his flesh. He feels the all too familiar sting of poison and shrugs it off. *"Back to the pits you go,"* he says in a low growl, hefting his improvised weapon yet again.

*Spoiler: Round 2*
Show


 *Move:* --
 *Action:* Clubbing Spiders
- Attack: (1d20)[*3*] | (1d20)[*20*] (ADV from Reckless Attack, -5 from GWM)
- Damage: (1d8+13)[*18*] (+10 GWM)
- Crit: *1* from Discord
- Dworic whiffs the Bonus attack from GWM
 *Bonus:* --






*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 15 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Eldeth deftly reloads her hand crossbow before drawing her newly acquired shortswod. *"We really need to get going, preferably without drawing any more undue attention,"* she says loudly, stabbing at the nearby spider and following through by leveling her crossbow at the spired and firing another bolt.

*Spoiler: Round 2*
Show

 *Move:* draw Shortsword
 *Action:* Shortsword vs Leftspoder
- Attack: (1d20+4)[*6*]
- Damage: (1d6+2)[*5*]
 *Bonus:* Hand Xbow vs Leftspoder (Crossbow Expert)
- Attack: (1d20+5)[*14*] (no Disadvantage within 5', ignore 1/2 and 3/4 cover)
- Damage: (1d6+2)[*5*]

----------


## RandomWombat

Nilvae, Stool and Sarith unleash a ranged barrage on the spider lying vulnerable below, ensuring that it shall not come to and attack them from behind. On the opposite side of the guard post, Derendil's ray freezes the spider in place for Dworic's mighty blow, knocking the spider off the wall and into unconsciousness. From there, it is a simple task to rain down another cantrip or two and end its life.

As combat comes again to a close, Shuushar takes the opportunity to begin tending to the wounds of those inside. He goes between Buppido, Topsy, and Borthan, all of whom are in weakened condition.

*Spoiler: Healing*
Show

Bort is healed for *11*
Buppido is healed for *4*
Topsy is healed for *5*


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2
[/QUOTE]

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Nilvae nods in respect to Dworic. I have heard of Dwarven exploits of toughness, but that defies every description, master dwarf. The dose of poison would have killed a healthy horse. No wonder drow hate you if you are this hard to poison. Nilvae subconsciously rubs the place where the bolt pierced her a good two days ago.

Now what say you? Borthan and I go over to the rest of the outpost disguised as drow. I claim the situation is being handled but we need more guards to get it under control. Meanwhile you drop the drow into the pit and lay an ambush. Faedryl, Sarith? Could you describe their priestess to us? I don't want to accidentally run into the only person able to see through this, though I fully expect to be able to pinpoint a dignitary of Lolth to be spotted from a mile away.

This was the longest and most calm Nilvae was in the short period she was here.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

The face-thief deigned to address her so casually. Perhaps her affiliation with the thinblood - 'Bort' - meant she had never learned respect for her betters, even while she paraded around as a fake drow. "Shove her," a voice whispers in the back of her mind. "Send her careening down to the water. No one will know it was you," and for a moment she really considers doing so. She bites it back though. The mockery was that of an ignorant child, but one that she could still use as a tool. Faedryl had endured far worse than this. Flatly, without emotion to betray her irritation, she simply responds back "She's not known to me, I was brought in by another group and blindfolded." She shrugs, "There won't be that many women here, just stay away from any you see." She glances over at Sarith with a smug, knowing smirk, and beyond to where Duskryn was still hiding. 




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith is a touch more informed than Faedryl. He considers leaving the information out, but Faedryl's prompting pushes him to contribute. *"There are only two females in the outpost - Ilvara, the head, and Asha, her apprentice,"* he drones, speaking as if to children, because they were children - he almost certainly had at least a few centuries on everyone here. He provides a brief description of both, highlighting any notable features and/or expected equipment that would differentiate the two. *"There's little chance of luring Ilvara here alone, but separating the two would weaken the outpost significantly."* He wasn't really sure why he was helping at this stage. Kronryn was dead and he'd lost his chance of exacting revenge. He had no particular qualms with Ilvara, she'd only done what she should. Yet...a small pit in his heart burns still. Something's pushing him forwards.

----------


## RandomWombat

With a plan beginning to form, and Ront able to understand... _mostly_, through Stool's telepathic spores, the group begins disposing of the bodies. Using her telekinesis, Faedryl is able to forcefully shove the corpses on the webs through, and down into the drink below. It leaves a few holes in the webbing, but the obvious bodies are soon dragged under the water by the ravenous ooze.

Ront and the gnomes begin dragging the rest of the bodies into the quaggoth den, out of sight, rather than make more disruptions on the web. Buppido instead decides to climb up the ladder into the armory and wait above, in ambush.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

With their ambush planned, and the bodies mostly disposed of. Faedryl returns to their cell, grimacing ever so slightly as the anti-casting field sets in over her once more. It felt like one of her senses was dulled, as if blood wasn't quite flowing through part of her consciousness. Duskryn was still there, of course. Useless. "The fight continues, though at our pace now." She tells him calmly, concisely. "If we don't succeed, your staying alive will be an obvious contradiction. You will fall under suspicion that we had you at our mercy and yet live." She makes no threatening motions, or indeed any motions at all, save for crossing her arms and leaning back against the cave wall, relaxed as she waits for the bait to be set. Confident. Assured. Hungry also, though that wasn't obvious from her stance. "The other prisoners will not let you be if you do not help. The choice is yours." She says it flatly, disinterested. Recruiting him would help them, of course, but if he wanted to do nothing and then face execution at the hands of either the (former) prisoners or the outpost, who was she to tell him otherwise? 




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith follows Buppido into the armoury, not out of any kinship or appreciation for the disturbing derro-fellow, merely because it seemed the optimal position to lie in wait as an ambush. He doesn't engage Buppido at all - the 'man' still stinks of the fresh blood on his face. Revolting.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Faedryl persuasion if required? (1d20+1)[*4*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan takes a moment to collect himself as Shuushar's fishy hand begins to run over his wounds. He breathes easy as the pain recedes and he finds himself with only some nasty bruises. Thanks, fish man. This should help a lot. He spins the blades in his hands, then sheathes them both. He flushed a little bit- he wasn't used to casting spells with an audience. Under his breath he muttered Drowdrowdrow... in Dwarvish, and suddenly he is shrouded by the form of one of the guards who now resides in the quaggoth cells, mirroring his features exactly. He takes a moment to look at himself, fascinated slightly as his brown skin shifts to be the dark violet of a dark elf. Well, might as well get going... He falls into step behind Nilvae, trying to keep his features stoic. His nerves were up- this was suspiciously close to how things went when the dark elves captured him. Swallowing, he prayed to Sylvanus that this wouldn't be a repeat.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil, spotting the gnome hiding at the top of the ladder, climbs up himself and assumes a crouched position near the edge of the trapdoor, waiting to jump down and surprise any patrol that comes their way.

----------


## RandomWombat

As the motley crew of former prisoners splits up into their ambush positions, Nilvae and Borthan march across the bridges in their disguises. At the other side, they re-enter the tunnels built into the wall of the cavern and pass by two quaggoth guards standing on either side. Up ahead is the ornate wooden gate into the shrine of Lolth, likewise guarded by another quaggoth, an arch of wooden supports above and along the wall. None of the creatures give them a second look.

Up a head, beyond the shrine, is the commons area that Borthan recognizes from his work with the buckets. All too familiar and well-traversed. 


Meanwhile, Duskryn sits in the cell, not even bothering to look up and address Faedryl. Or perhaps just his conditioning making him know better than to look a drow woman in the eye. "There's no point. What is there left except spite?" he holds up his sword arm, looking at the hand, scarred and withered from acid burns, the tendons and muscles needed to wield a weapon properly beyond any healing he could afford, or anything his priestess would deem worth the expense. Then the drow drops the hand back down his his side and leans back against the wall, closing his eyes to await what may come.

----------


## cigaw

*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 27/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

The dwarf watches with grim satisfaction as the spider sails through the air before being pin-cushioned by spells and bolts. He relaxes his stance momentarily and stakes stock of his surroundings. He accepts the praise from the transformed drow with a grunted *"Thank you."*

As the group decides on an ambush-based plan, Dworic takes position east of the armory and flattens himself against the nearby wall, reducing his profile.




*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 15 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

*"There's likely enough rope to abseil down the tower if this plan doesn't pan out,"* Eldeth mentions before taking position near Dworic. She nocks another bolt to her hand crossbow and levels it at the bridge, crouching low and remaining hidden.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

"You and Sarith really are two of a kind." They had time to chat while the bait was being set, and perhaps her speaking would keep the nerves calm. She puts on a theatrical voice, mocking, extravagant. "Oh, woe is me! I'm scarred, and my lover rejected me! Oh, woe is me! I committed a crime and lost my position!" Her eyerolling is near audible. It's hard for her to feel any real sympathy considering her own situation - far worse, in her mind, than theirs. They didn't suffer any torture, they weren't forced to _watch_. They'd not fallen from so great a height, nor fallen on such jagged rocks. Figuratively speaking. "What is left?' The rest of your life. Maybe that'll last ten minutes. Maybe it'll last ten years. Maybe it'll last ten hundred years. If you want to live for spite then start there. Survive. Let Ilvara rot knowing you lived past her if that's what keeps you going." It was a familiar thought, except between her and her mother. Faedryl had far more to live for yet though, it wasn't just spite or hatred keeping her going. Grander plans existed yet.

She pauses, before finding a mite of humour in the thought that springs to mind. "Besides, I hear some women find facial scars attractive. Mind you most of those women are orcs."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

_Where do we go now?_ Nilvae whispers to her cohort while checking the area for the drow acolyte.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan simply grunts and points at the common area where the other drow would be. He took a moment to adjust his armor to display his wounds more openly. Whispering, he said Stir up the water to attract cave fish. They're blind, so you gotta make a lot of racket. That's your job.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

ATTENTION LOWLIVES! Nilvae shouts in undercommon. The outpost was attacked by demons, who freed our prisoners. We need to act swiftly to get this under control, else the high priestess will have your heads.

Nilvae commands the quaggoths to line up as he rushes into the common area, where she slows her pace according to not disturb the high priestess. Kronryn-Nilvae bows in front of the dignitaries, avoiding direct eye contact. Milady, I have been informed chasme attacked the outpost. We have a grasp on the situation but seeing as we are fighting demonic hordes, I would beg your grace to lend me aid in form of your apprentice here. I would not want to loose more fodder than necessary. This operation after all is meant to strengthen your house.

She kind of elbows guard-Borthan to add something to the story. Our scout here knows more about the situation.

*Spoiler*
Show

22 on Persuasion.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Bort grunted just a bit when Nilvae threw her elbow. Keeping his eyes down and his voice hushed, her responded We're showing them the wrath of Llolth in there, but we need support. People keep getting knocked out by the sound coming off the big demon's wings! He uses undercommon, but silently chastises Nilvae for not picking elvish. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Using the help action to provide advantage.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Cells*

"You chose this."

Sitting with his arms draped across his knees, staring into the ground, Duskryn's voice is nearly a whisper. But Faedryl can clearly hear something in it has changed. There is a harshness, guttural, cracked, something in the man has snapped as he pushes on his knees and forces himself to his feet. Without looking up, he reaches an arm through the bars of the cell door's window and silently locks the cage from the outside. Then he tosses the key deeper into the cell, and then, only then, does he look up. Those two eyes, an orange like amber, glare out at her with constricted pupils filled with a fury born of despair, pushed beyond the brink.

"I did my duty. I fought and I won and _this_ is my reward. You... someone like you... you _chose_ this," his words drip with venom, and his voice cracks again. It's like a dam has broken, with hate, and sadness and fear, all pouring out of him like the tears welling up in his eyes, running down the twisted contours of his disfigured face. "You _choose_ to crawl in the muck, give up everything others _claw_ for, and- and *you* have the *AUDACITY* to come here and look down on *ME*!" All of the broken quiet and surrender in his voice is gone now, as he grabs at the sword in his scabbard, hands and arms twitching with wild, uncontrolled rage. At this point, all language breaks down save for a scream like the shrieks of the damned as he charges forward. The blade of his weapon clips Faedryl in the side, smashing through some of her chain armor to bloody her.

Hearing the shouting, Jimjar is on his way - perhaps even a moment sooner, when he saw the drow's arm lock the door. He slides to a stop in front of the cell and starts trying to pick the lock. But without his tools he's left fiddling with it using a bit of bone from the quaggoth den, which snaps off and has to be dug out of the lock as he frowns. He steps back to dig out something else to use.

"We should have never left our back to him," Topsy hisses, gripping her dagger but unable to do much.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Duskryn loses his **** and locks the door, then attacks Faedryl for *9* damage.

Jimjar attempts to pick the lock, but is unable without tools.
Eldeth and Dworic are up.

Those in the armory are Surprised, and cannot act on the first round.

Attacking through the cell window will have 3/4 cover.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2


*The Infiltration*

As they rush out into the commons, the quaggoth behind them line up and await orders. Nilvae finds the high priestess not present out in the common area, however, instead spotting Mr. Spide. The bulky black arachnid rolling an unconscious dog wrapped up in webs back and forth with its fangs, yet not digging into the beast as the drow watching it most likely expect. The two quaggoth supposed to guard the lift are unconsciously slumped against the wall, more victims of the demon-buzz.

They find them already mid-discussion about the very same issue of the demons. "-towards Gracklstugh," one of the guards is reporting to another pair, with a second, lolth-touched giant spider nearby eyeing the dog-meal her blackshelled cousin is toying with jealously. The appearance of Kronryn causes them to pause in the discussion and turn to salute. His use of undercommon isn't met with much note, though they respond in drow-elvish. "Sir! The demons were moving in the direction of the Gracklstugh tunnels."

"Then let's get the prisoners back in line," the second guard agrees, drawing his shortsword.

From one of the smaller stalactites, another drow officer emerges in his plainclothes, albeit with blade in hand and a quaggoth at his heel. "Kronryn. I heard the alarms." After hearing the report he nods and motions to the other drow to fall in line. "Come on. Let's put out one fire while the other has been kind enough to leave on its own."

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

This group is not in initiative yet, though they likely will be as they move back towards the cells.

I'm assuming that Nilvae's words were adjusted a bit upon not seeing either priestess in the commons, with her 22.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Not noticing the Lolth devouts, Nilvae alters her spech a bit, switching to drow-elvish. Warriors. We can only now put this rebellion down. I am sure the demons return, and we would need our prisoners as fodder to slow them down. They are of little use injured, but if they die to save our lives, to win this fight today, so be it. Then she adresses the quaggoths in undercommon.

You long for a fight, you itch to murder. Today you will have this opportunity. Fight or die! We form a spear-head, with you in it. The drow flank us, with my sergeant commanding the slave-warriors. Retake the armory, then to drive the rabble back into their cages.

Nilvae seems to enjoy roleplaying as the drow prince a bit too much, and you cannot tell where her lies end and her true pleasure begins. As she sees Mr Spide and Muttley, she starts to sweat profusely. Ultimatively she decides to yell down there in beast-speech. 

*Spoiler: Spider/Donkey*
Show

If you decide to eat Muttley, you are in SUCH trouble, young mister! Pick him up and follow us, in about 10 minutes.


As quickly as she fell into the singsang of harmonic melodies, basically singing to the beasts, she is back to her drow self. I will explain later. Now crush these vermin!

----------


## cigaw

*Eldeth Feldrun*
Dwarf Fighter
AC: 15 HP: 25/25
PP: 13 PIv: 12 PIs: 11
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Eldeth clenches her jaw in frustration and considers just letting the horrible drow kill each other. The noise, however, she couldn't tolerate. She takes aim through the small window and fires a bolt at the crazed dark elf while muttering to herself.
*Spoiler: Dwarven*
Show

*"Moradin preserve me and curse this ebon skin filth."*


*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Action: Hand Xbow vs More annoying drow
- Attack: (1d20+5)[*23*] (no Disadvantage within 5', ignore 1/2 and 3/4 cover)
- Damage: (1d6+2)[*4*]





*Dworic Urgrimson*
Dwarf Barbarian
AC: 15 HP: 27/35
PP: 13 PIv: 9 PIs: 13
Conditions: Exhaustion (1) 
Concentrating: -- 

*Eight Day - Escape*

Dworic considers attempting to kick down the door but realizes prisoners have likely attempted that before. He is, however, on the easier to access side of the locked door this time. He takes the hammer and a piton he liberated from the armory and sets to work on the door hinges.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Dworic is proficient in both Smith and Mason tools. Idea is to use a piton as a prying tool/chisel and get the door off the hinges.

Here's a d20?
- (1d20)[*7*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Cells*

Eldeth's bolt sails through the bars with expert precision, slashing across Duskryn's shoulder. But in this moment, the drow has eyes only for the source of his rage. In the meantime, Dworic steps in past Jimjar and begins hammering the hinges of the door out of their sockets. Working with expert precision and a steady hand, he knocks the upper one out, leaving the door hanging at an angle from the lower hinge.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Eldeth shoots Duskryn through the door for *4* damage.
Dworic successfully removes one of the two door hinges. Apart from being halfway there from taking it down the clever way, this also makes it easier to break open.

I also forgot Stool is present near the cells, so Stool's turn is now. Faedryl can also act as part of the initiative block.

Those in the armory are Surprised, and cannot act on the first round.

Attacking through the cell window will have 3/4 cover.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2


*The Infiltration*

Two of the drow exchange a curious look as Kronryn begins speaking to the spiders. "I was not aware you had this ability, sir," one of them says, sounding more impressed than worried. 

"A gift from Lolth?" the other officer near him asks, as the drow begin marching towards the cells, and the fourth quaggoth joins the other three at the vanguard.

The other spider in the commons area seems more upset by this development, chittering at Nilvae and then at Mr. Spide. Mr. Spide responds in short, snippy chirps, rolling the cocooned mutt in close. The Loth-touched spider takes offense and rears up, baring her fangs at the black-shelled one. It seems that squabbles between the giant spiders is nothing new, and the drow pay it little mind as they assemble near the bridge.

*Spoiler: Spider Speak*
Show

"If the _foreign male_ refuses to eat its food, _I_ will gladly partake in his stead..."

*"The mutt is mine, goddess-pawn. So you can kindly go catch a fly."*

"*Insolent mite*. You cannot speak to _me_ in that tone. I ought to pluck out six of your eyeballs for a snack, and leave you ogling about like a two-legs!"

*"You may try madam, but I assure you I am no stranger to violent problem resolution."*

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Pain was no strange to Faedryl, though she does hiss through clenched teeth as the blade cuts her. A child. Through and through. "You chose death then. I'd say it was a pity, but I doubt anyone left on the planet would think so. Not even you." He lacked any real grace with the weapons right now, and perhaps the taunt would throw off his balance further while she focuses on evading the weapons. At least the dwarves were pulling their weight. Drow superiority as an abstract concept was really taking a hit in this situation. Unwilling to put distance between her and her escape, and unable to muster a proper magical defence she does what she can - aiming to force him back with the Grimoire's powers. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Wasn't 100% clear if the door swings in or out of the prison, my assumption would be out, so the hinges aren't prisoner-accessible. It probably won't matter at all aside from flavour.

*Move:* Shifting round Duskryn
*Action:* Dodge. She got no spells yo :( 
*Bonus Action:* Telekinetic shove. If the door opens out of the prison, she's shoving him into the door. If it opens into the prison, she shoves him at the wall. Don't want to risk him getting in the way of getting the door open. Must make a (1d20)[*19*]+modifier strength save vs. DC14. (1d4)[*4*] damage if he goes into a wall.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark 

Borthan, doing his best to play up the bruises on his body and the blood spilled on his clothes that he hadn't modified with the illusion, began making his way towards the rear of the party of drow and quaggoths. He again had to resist throwing something at Nilvae when she started talking to the damn spiders. A small hiss of annoyance was all that escaped his lips, which could have been interpreted as a pained sound. Beware of the male dwarf. He's brute strong and bloodthirsty as well. Keeps shouting oaths and curses in his native language. Borthan had been speaking in elvish, but he changed to dwarvish for the finish. Spider-kissers! Blood and fire! *Prey!* Behind the glamour of his illusion, Bort's pupils fully dilated and his heart rate picked up as the single word of the spell heralded doom for the rearmost assault member, with Bort's enhanced vision floating between their vital spots. He could almost hear the blood pumping and breath quickening of his target. Outwardly, his illusory features remained unchanged. Hands on the hilts of his shortswords, Borthan waited for the opportune moment to strike.  



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Falling back to the rear of the column of Drow and Quaggoths, pretending to be injured. Casting Hunter's Mark on the last person in line for the invasion attempt. Readying a strike, but more likely going to march out onto the bridge first to form a pincer on the guards and slaves.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool once again glows with an eerie green light, this time throwing a good chunk of his spores at the assailing drow in hopes to blind him. The small particles are aimed at his face, there eating away at his eye balls.

*Spoiler*
Show

Con save vs. DC 13 or be blinded (1d20)[*20*]
Repeat save at the end of every turn.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Cells*

"And I'll be taking you with me," Duskryn howls like a beast, shoving through the telekinetic force pushing back on his advance. Spores swirl in from the other side of the door, and Duskryn closes his eyes, grabbing a dagger and swinging wildly with both weapons at Faedryl. The mad swings clatter against the wall.

Ront steps forward through the crowd waiting in ambush, trying to take aim with his hand crossbow. But there are too many people in the way and he pulls the weapon back with a scowl. Turvy stands next to his sister, helplessly looking on with a blue swirling mist gatherer around his hands. Sliding to the fore, Shuushar lays a supportive hand upon Dworic's back, and the dwarf feels a bit of extra strength welling up for what must be done.

Coming up alongside him, Jimjar squats low to stay out of the way of any bolts flying and helps Dworic keep the hinge steady while he hammers away. Topsy flips her dagger around, holding it by the blade between two fingers, and strafes around to take aim in preparation for the door to go down. "He's moving erratically, but he leans left when he raises the shortsword," the gnome advises Eldeth.


Meanwhile, those perched in the armory can hear the furious howling. Buppido clicks his tongue in disappointment and whispers, "_But_ it will make the jailors hasty, reckless when they come through. We should remain here... ready to strike what the bait snares."

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Stool uses Blindness on Duskryn, but he resists the spell.
Faedryl Dodges and uses a Telekinetic Shove, but Duskryn resists.
Shuushar casts Guidance on Dworic.

Duskryn misses his shortsword and dagger.

Jimjar Helps Dworic with breaking off the last hinge. (We forgot Exhaustion Disadvantage on the last roll, not gonna retcon anything. But Jimbo will help negate it this time.)
Topsy readies an action for a dagger throw when the door is removed. She uses her bonus action to Help Eldeth, giving Advantage on her next attack.

Derendil, Sarith, Stool, Dworic, Eldeth, and Faedryl are up in the next block.

The drow reinforcements and infiltrators will enter initiative next round.

Attacking through the cell window will have 3/4 cover.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2


*The Infiltration*

While Nilvae listens to the spiders bicker and threaten one another, Borthan moves back the way they came at the rear of the column. The first of the quaggoth are beginning to lead the way alone across the bridge, the drow following behind in formation. "Come now. There is no need to pollute your tongue echoing their _filthy_ language," the quarry just ahead of him quips, but any poking fun at the dwarves is cut off when a howl of rage is heard from inside. The Duskryn elf's voice. It spurs the marked drow officer to urge the others ahead, onto the bridge behind the quaggoth.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool mixes another greyscale of spores into his mixtures. It squeaks like a particularly eager yet adorable piglet.

*Spoiler*
Show

Con save vs. DC 13 or be blinded (1d20)[*11*]
con save DC 11 or be stunned (1d20)[*18*]
Repeat save at the end of every turn.





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

There is a chance they understand me, and if we don't crush this rebellion, the head prieste... Kronryn-Nilvae stops as she hears fighting. Go, NOW! she commands, letting the brutes charge ahead.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

"Ah, maybe." Faedryl replies, focusing once again on avoiding his attacks and forcing him back with her mental abilities. "If or when I die it won't be for throwing a temper tantrum." Keep goading. Keep waiting. They almost had the door down, and she almost had an escape from being locked in a cell with this dreg. It didn't feel right to call him drow at this point. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* None
*Action:* Dodging again. Safer than a feeble dagger attack.
*Bonus Action:* Telekinetic shove.  Must make a (1d20)[*9*]+modifier strength save vs. DC14. (1d4)[*2*] damage if he goes into a wall.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith nods at the derro. *"Wait until it sounds like some of them have passed, then open the hatch and we can take them from behind, overwhelm them on the bridge, maybe even throw them off."* He loads a bolt - just a normal one - into his crossbow. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* If he can get to the left of the hatch he'll do so, not clear from the map if that's a 'movable space'. Maybe swap with Derendil? Not a lot of sight range from the current position, but oh well. If not, no biggy. 
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide. (1d20+6)[*18*] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: (1d20+6)[*19*]
*Action:* Ready Action Attack. Trigger: Either Buppido or Derendil opens the hatch, and if an enemy is in sight. (1d20+8)[*26*]. Advantage if hiding successful: (1d20+8)[*10*] (1d6+4)[*10*]
Possible sneak attack if advantage (1d6)[*3*]

If the hatch doesn't get opened he can't do much anyway, so no big loss if they spend their turn on other stuff :P

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil holds a finger up to Bupido and Sarith in the armory. In his pitiful undercommon, Derendil points down. If we wait too long, they may come up. Hard to jump down onto a ready weapon. We have reinforcements in both directions. We split the enemy. Make them fight on all fronts. He prepares to do just that, but whether Bupido and the dark elf take his advice or not Derendil intended to follow the gruesome dwarf into battle, not the other way around. If someone were to fall on the first spear, why not the raving psycopath?



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Holding action to drop down after Bupido and make a claw attack. 10 to hit, (15 if it is with advantage to hit) and 6 damage (rolls in Discord). If an attack would hit Derendil, he will use his reaction to cast Shield and raise his AC by 5 for the round.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Cells*

More spores sputter out and float around Duskryn's head, but the elf is determined and vicious, shutting his eyes and pushing through to reach Faedryl again. A second bolt flies through the window and grazes him, moments before the resounding metal clang of the door falling off of its hinges, opening the way in and out of the accursed cell and stepping back. 

Before Duskryn can raise his weapon, Ront steps in and grabs him from behind, punching Duskryn square in the back. While the elf is still reeling, Ront grabs him in a lock with his arm and pulls him back, tusks bared. "Get off of me! This is between me and her, you stupid beast!" Duskryn shouts in impotent fury. Faedryl shoves Duskryn with a thought, slamming his head into the wall next to the doorway as he struggles against Ront's grip.

Spinning his weapons around into reverse grip, Duskryn tries to stab Ront behind him. The orc's bared teeth twitch wider in a wince as part of Duskryn's clumsy blade makes contact.

"I hear them coming," Turvy mutters, sliding past the others to gather a bolt of frost in his hands, preparing to meet the incoming drow forces. And he's right, the calls of the drow and their quaggoth are drawing near, clamoring onto the other bridge. He launches a bolt of cold at the lead quaggoth in an attempt to create a blockade and slow them down.


"I suppose it matters little when we strike. They will die all the same, so come what fate may..." Buppido hums softly to himself under his breath, a soft smile beneath his mustache as he waits for someone to open the hatch and spring him forth.

"Hit me with that protective magic. I will take the front while they're busy with the whinging elf," Topsy instructs Shuushar, holding out an arm for his webbed hand to clasp. After receiving his blessing, she steps protectively in front of her brother and holds her dagger ready to throw.


"Move! Push forward!" the drow officer next to Borthan calls out to the procession upon the bridge in front of him, unaware of Borthan's mark upon him. Towards the back of their group, near the turn into the common area, Nilvae stands in disguise. She can see Mr. Spide baring his fangs as the other giant spider eyes the mutt greedily.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Stool casts Blindness again, but Duskryn just manages to resist. He is unable to use Pacifying spores since casting was his action, and Duskryn was out of range anyways.
Sarith hides and readies an attack.
Derendil holds action.
Eldeth shoots Duskryn for *4* damage.
Dworic finishes removing the door.
Ront punches Duskryn from the flank for *8* damage, and uses a bonus action to Grapple him.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Quaggoth, dealing *4* damage and slowing it by 10 feet for 1 round.
Faedryl shoves Duskryn for *2* damage.
Shuushar casts Virtue, giving Topsy *4* temporary hitpoints.

Duskryn attacks Ront, hitting with his shortsword for *5* damage, but missing with his dagger.

Buppido holds action, waiting to jump down.
Topsy readies an attack for when an enemy enters proper range.
Mr. Spide readies an attack if the giant spider approaches.

It is Borthan's turn.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 24/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan waits for the last drow underling to get on the bridge, taking his time and letting them move to underneath the trap door and his reinforcements. Then he turns to the drow officer, smiles, and attempts to ram both his shortswords up underneath the dark elf's armor. Whether his attack succeeds or fails, he will then move to block the bridge. _Alright, fellow convicts. Time to get the party started._



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Hold action until the last of the drow peons moves forward towards the trap door. Then attack the drow officer with both shortswords. (1d20+5)[*25*] to hit on the first attack, (1d20+5)[*22*] if I have advantage. Same thing for the second shortsword attack- (1d20+5)[*17*] and (1d20+5)[*11*] to hit. First attack- (1d6+5)[*10*] plus (1d6)[*3*] for hunter's mark. Second attack- (1d6+5)[*9*] and (1d6)[*2*] for hunter's mark. Then move to block the bridge (without provoking an AOO from the officer if he still lives). If the drow officer dies I move my hunter's mark to the rearmost drow on the bridge and move to block him in.

EDIT- Rolled crit damage for the first attack in the discord. Shortsword + hunter's mark crit for *9* additional damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

The quaggoth, at the command of their master, charge across the bridge and into the guard post. One of them charges straight up to Topsy, throwing off her aim as she tries to throw a dagger at the first to enter her line of sight.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan holds action.

Quaggoth triggers Topsy's readied attack, but she misses.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith, and Stool now act.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool squeals and erupts in a final magical scream, this time hyphae shoot from his "arms" into the ground.Nothing happens yet, but Stool is ready to lock the enemy down.

*Spoiler*
Show

Delay to cast entangle.





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Follow me. You may bring your price with you. Nilvae commands her donkey-spider. She then follows Bort to the drow. What are you doing here? They got the shock troops now. Go, now!

*Spoiler*
Show

Delaying Faerie Fire until they are with the others.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

*"The fight has started, lets begin."* Sarith whispers, kicking open the armoury hatch. He swings forward, finding a spot to loose a bolt at the closest quaggoth from their position on high, before swerving back round to take 'cover' behind Derendil and Buppido. Let them take the hits, they certainly seemed more eager to bloody themselves than he was.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Open the hatch, fire down at the nearest quaggoth, then retreat.
*Action:* Attack. (1d20+8)[*20*]. Advantage from hiding: (1d20+8)[*24*] Damage: (1d6+4)[*7*]+(1d6)[*3*] sneak attack

*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide. (1d20+6)[*22*] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: (1d20+6)[*21*]

----------


## RandomWombat

The trapdoor into the armory springs open, a bolt loosed from above into one of the quaggoth. It graces the creature's tough hide and leaves a long, red streak spilling blood down its fur and onto the stone ground. Broad grin forming upon his face, Buppido jumps down  He swings his way onto the break room table next to the startled quaggoth, immediately jabbing his gemstone shiv into its chest. Derendil is right behind him, dropping to the bottom of the ladder. His claw swipes out and raking across his contemptible kin. 

Seeing their enemy reveal themselves, the drow warriors run out onto the bridge to take up firing positions, drawing their hand crossbows. One fires past the quaggoth in the 'doorway' of the guard post, the poison-tipped bolt striking the stone wall behind him with a crack. Two more bolts are launched across the web-netted chasm below, likewise sailing past their targets. The drow scowl and begin reloading their weapons.

The officer behind them looks on with disappointment and reaches for his own crossbow, only for Borthan to draw both swords and strike from behind. The drow senses the movement at the last second, twisting away and preventing one of the attacks from hitting anything important, but the other leaves a wide, bloody gash in his side. "What is this?!" the drow exclaims in surprise, Borthan swiftly circling him with his footwork to cut him off from aid.

The door near Nilvae opens and the face of a drow woman peeks out, long white hair dangling around a soft and youthful face. Unlikely the head priestess of the outpost. *"Kronryn. What is happening?"* the priestess asks, mistaking Nilvae for her disguise.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae delays turn.
Stool delays turn.
Sarith shoots Quaggoth for *7* damage, then Hides.
Buppido's readied action triggers, and he jumps down from hiding. He stabs the same Quaggoth for a *24* damage critical sneak attack.
Derendil's readied action triggers and he jumps down after Buppido. He slashes the wounded Quaggoth for *6* damage.

Drow Warriors advance across the bridge. They fire at Derendil, Topsy and Turvy, all missing.

Borthan's readied action triggers and he stabs the Drow Elite twice, for a *22* damage crit and an *11* damage hit.

Eldeth and Dworic are up. Nilvae and Stool may take their delayed turns if they wish.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Hyphae shoot up after they have enveloped the draw bridge and the stone column that held the armory.

*Spoiler*
Show

Entangle. Saves (6d20)[*12*][*18*][*18*][*5*][*11*][*4*](68)





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Oh my dear priestess, all will be well. Kronryn-Nilvae enters the room with the acolyte and closes the door behind him. The demons have won. They killed us, and now they will take you. *Nilvae's visage melts to a yochlol, one of Lolth's most deformed servant demons. Under the cleric's feet the ground crumbles revealing a giant spider net. The acolyte sees herself in a web, approached by spiders from all sides, and by hostile driders. We take our revenge now. The closest spider impales the cleric, filling her with poison.


*all part of a Phantasmal Force spell

*Spoiler*
Show

Int save to disbelieve (1d20)[*15*] or take (1d6)[*2*] psychic damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

From the stonework and between cracks in the wood, grey hyphae reach up and grab onto the assembled forces of the outpost. The quaggoth with their strength and clawed feet tear away the fungal growths before they can take hold, but the drow are not so lucky. It crawls up, grabbing onto their arms and interfering with not only their movement, but their aim.

Dworic grunts that he's got this, and Eldeth turns to join in the fight at the choke point. Leaning past the wall to aim over the gnomes, she clacks off a shot with her crossbow, but the bolt goes wide and strikes the wall. 

"Laven Byon Seek!" the gnome wizard chants, three glowing spheres of magical force arcing around his sister with unerring accuracy and slamming into the quaggoth looming over her.

*The Cell*

Dworic enters the cell and swings his chair at Duskryn. The drow kicks his feet up, using the orc grappling him from behind as a backboard to catch the chair with his feet and kick off of it, sending it careening away from its intended target.

Striding past the struggle, Shuushar narrowly avoids a shortsword to the eye as he walks calmly past Duskryn, held by Ront. The fishman reaches out and lays a webbed hand upon Faedryl, covering her in a thin, misty barrier.

*The Shrine*

Nilvae steps inside, pushing past the priestess. Her face contorts in indignation at being forced back by a lowly male. Then her eyes light up with realization. *"Kronryn would never be so presumptuous,"* she hisses, reaching for a mace with a round metal head at her belt. Illusions slither into her mind, but her wary intellect dispels them, and Nilvae can feel her spell crumble. *"Sylvia, to me!"* she calls, and a large spider emerges from beneath a pile of pillows to hiss and charge at Nilvae.

*Spoiler: Spider*
Show

"Stink of white meat you do, fakedrow! We will bite you and chew you and eat you we will, fakedrow!"


Being able to understand words in the quiet hissing she hears alerts Nilvae, and she sidesteps in time to avoid a pair of fangs sinking into her leg.

Through the trapdoor at the back of the shrine, Nilvae can hear muffled voices.

*The Commons*

As soon as the lolth-touched spider is out of 'Kronryn's' supervision, it rushes at Mr. Spide. But the black shelled spider is ready and meets her charge with a bite of his own, coming out on top in the exchange of hissing, bubbling venom, and tangled legs. The wee mutt lay beneath the battling arachnids, unable to help decide its fate.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Stool casts Entangle, ensnaring the Drow but failing to capture the quaggoth.
Nilvae casts Phantasmal Force, failing to ensorcell the priestess.
Eldeth shoots at Quaggoth, but misses.
Dworic attacks Duskryn, but misses despite Adv.

Giant Spider bites at Nilvae for a miss.
Giant Spider approaches Mr. Spide, provoking his readied attack and taking *5* damage and *12* poison damage.
Giant Spider bites Mr. Spide, dealing *9* damage, and *3* poison damage after a successful save.

Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing *12* damage to the bridge Quaggoth.
Shuushar moves past Duskryn, provoking an attack. Duskryn whiffs a crit due to Disadvantage.
Shuushar casts Virtue on Faedryl, granting her *6* temp hp.

It is Faedryl's turn!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

With the door open and a gap available, Faedryl does the only sensible thing she can and immediately leaves the magic-blocking cell, darting past Duskryn with a sly smile. The feeling of her weave connection returning is immediate and warm. Evidently while locked in with Duskryn the bait had been successful, to a certain extent, as she notes the quaggoths approaching from the armoury tower. With a half-thought she lashes out at the quaggoth on the bridge, aiming to give the deep gnomes some extra space, even as she turns back to her would-be assassin. Her fingers trace sigils in the air, practiced, precise, as the magic circles form before her. Three beads of gleaming silver-white magic slowly grow as she utters the final word of her incantation. They stream forward, striking Duskryn and detonating with pure magical energy, hopefully to put him down for good. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* Out of the cell. No OA because Duskryn already used his attack 
*Action:*  Her first real spell - Magic Missile! On Duskryn, specifically. (1d4+1)[*5*] per dart. 3 darts=*15* damage total 
*Bonus Action:* Telekinetic shove on the quaggoth  Must make a (1d20)[*14*]+modifier strength save vs. DC14.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

Buppido swings his shiv in an arc, bringing it down against the quaggoth's face, standing on the table before it. He misses its eye by a small margin, but reaches up with his free hand, uncaring of its sharp teeth, to grab onto the wound inflicted on its cheek and wrench it open with his fingers. 

On the bridge, Topsy draws a second dagger and delivers a pair of small cuts to the quaggoth in front of her, not nearly enough to bring down a monster of its size.

*Cells*

Slipping out of the cell and leaving Duskryn behind, Faedryl sends a wave of energy bolts back at him, which curve around Ront to slam into the drow's chest. In spite of the continued punishment, the crippled warrior refuses to expire, struggling against Ront's grip, to no avail.

Sidling up to see past Ront, Jimjar loads his hand crossbow with a poisoned bolt and tries to take Duskryn out of the fight and free them to join the others. *"Sorry, guy. Need you to take a time out."* But his one-liner is wasted as Duskryn leans back against Ront, the bolt whistling past into the wall. *"Whoops. Hey, how muchya wanna bet I can make the next one?"* he asks, elbowing Faedryl as he reloads.

*The Shrine*

Outside of the shrine, the draw draws a dagger and squares off against Borthan, his graceful elven stance contrasted against Borthan's powerful dwarven style. The difference is not lost on the drow either, as he lunges forward, exchanging glancing blows with Borthan in both directions. "You're not really a drow. That style, duergar, isn't it? As you some _dwarven assassin_?" he spits the words as his blade finds purchase, puncturing Borthan's stolen armor.

*The Commons*

Between fending off the other spider and keeping it from getting a hold of his bundled canine 'friend', Mr. Spide fails to land a bite on his foe.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Magic Missile on Duskryn for *15* damage.

Duskryn attempts to break the grapple, but fails.

Buppido sneak attacks Quaggoth for *16* damage, then uses an offhand unarmed strike for *1* damage.

Drow Elite strikes Borthan twice for *5* and *4* damage.

Jimjar attempts to shoot Duskryn with a drow poisoned bolt, but misses.
Topsy slashes Quaggoth twice for *6* and *2* damage.
Mr. Spide bites at Giant Spider, but misses.

Borthan is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 15/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan grimaced as both the drow officer's blows strike home, but he focuses his mind and manages to maintain his Mark on the man. _Not like this, Zuek. NOT LIKE THIS!_ Damn, this guy was _fast_. Faster than Borthan, that was for sure. But he couldn't keep up with the half-drow's strength and mass. You're close. I was trained by duergar. Trained to kill people like you. But I'm something MUCH more dangerous. All that training, and no longer a slave. You will be killed by a free man this day, Captain Asshat. I'd call you dark elf scum, but that'd be a pot-kettle-black situation, now wouldn't it? He attempted a straight jab with one shortsword, aiming for the officer's thigh. It was a move that Vrek had drilled into him a thousand painful times in the training yard. "You tall folk leave yourselves open with those gangly, silly long legs, Zuek!" But the follow-up was a move of his own creation- a rising stab at the opposite armpit. Both strikes carried all of Strong Shadow's strength, trying to muscle past any parries or deflections.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Action- attack with the left hand. (1d20+5)[*17*] to hit, (1d6+5)[*10*] damage from the blade and (1d6)[*4*] from Hunter's Mark. Bonus action- attack with the right hand. (1d20+5)[*23*] to hit, (1d6+5)[*10*] damage from the blade and (1d6)[*1*] from Hunter's Mark. And just in case I crit, two more d6 damage- (2d6)[*3*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

Spraying bloody spit out of its mouth and across Buppido's face, the quaggoth shoves him away and makes two lunging swipes with its claws, but the unarmored dwarf swivels between them with a steady, unfazed smile on his face, as if it were a foregone conclusion. A third quaggoth marches through the fungal growths covering the floor to join the wall of monsters closing Derendil and Borthan in, its swipes failing to meet either of them as Derendil deflects a deadly strike with his shield. The last of the three tries to rush in and Derendil in close quarters, but a clawed foot set against its chest shoves it back out of reach.

On the bridge, Topsy ducks around one swing, and a sharp clawed kick comes up unexpectedly from below. It drives straight into her chest and she stumbles back, Turvy catching and steadying her. "Sis!"

"I'm fine. Didn't puncture the armor," she responds, catching her breath and standing on her own again as the quaggoth regains its balance from the kick.

*Cells*

...

*The Shrine*

Borthan's two-pronged attack strikes home - the thrust at the drow's leg nearly misses, but without a shield he is left exposed on the side, even with his quick footwork. Borthan's blade punctures flesh, and blood spills out onto the stone, painting it red. The opening his enough for his second blade to swing up and catch the drow along the shoulder as he tries and fails to parry. Not the crippling blow Borthan had hoped for, but another in a war of a thousand cuts. Bleeding for many small cuts and nicks garnered from their duel, the drow sags and his energy flags.

"You fight well, dwarf-trained assassin," the drow officer pays him rare compliment, between labored breaths as he pants. Blood running down his arms slickens the handles of his two blades, but his grip remains firm and his eyes steel. "Come then, free man. I will pay you the courtesy of dying on your feet, stead of on your knees!" The melee is joined again as the two of them continue to exchange flashing blades.

*The Commons*

...

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan strikes the Drow Elite twice for *14* and *11* damage.

Quaggoth misses Buppido twice.
Quaggoth misses Buppido and Derendil each.
Quaggoth misses Derendil twice.
Quaggoth misses Topsy twice.
Always a good series of combat logs for the players to see.

Nilvae, Derendil, Stool and Sarith are up.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith is quietly impressed by the ability of Derendil and Buppido to not immediately get mobbed and killed by the quaggoths below, if only because it leaves him free to continue his assault from above unhindered. He pads forward, darts to the side of the  hatch and fires down, before disappearing again in the hopes of staying hidden. He'd lost track of Faedryl, but it was safe to assume that she was probably being smug about something. Maybe it was good that he didn't have to see it.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Scoot round, shoot the quaggoth which is on the far left (below Buppido), then retreat. 
*Action:* Attack.  (1d20+8)[*24*] Advantage from hiding:  (1d20+8)[*9*] Damage:  (1d6+4)[*9*]+ (1d6)[*5*] sneak attack

*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide. (1d20+6)[*18*] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: (1d20+6)[*16*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil raises his shield just in time to deflect a claw thrown at his face. His first instinct is to snarl, throw aside his shield, and try to savage the opposing quaggoth, but his mind holds firm. He does lash out with a claw, but he keeps his shield up as he was trained by his tutors so long ago.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Claw attack- (1d20+5)[*16*] and (1d6+3)[*8*] damage. Reaction to cast shield if someone would hit him. No movement.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Entangle 

Stool commands oddly elegantly flying black clouds of spores in the air. They swarm at the drow archers, invading their orifices in an attempt to infect them.

*Spoiler*
Show

Entangle persists. Chill Touch with Advantage: (2d20)[*1*][*13*](14) and take (1d8)[*3*]





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Maybe you are right that Kronryn would not be so presumptuous. But he may also not be so bold as to fight a spider sucker and her dumb pet. Nilvae leaves the room hurriedly, trying to close the door behind her. Hehe, wrong door. she laughs at the drow elites.

*Spoiler*
Show

Disengage, open door and move out. If possible close the door, but I think that's not in the budget.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

A cloud of spires sails around the heads of the gnomes, moving in a spiral pattern to swarm around the drow like biting flies. He whips his long, luxurious white hair around, the resultant wind blowing them away as if in a painted advertisement for hair care products. Grabbing onto the fungal growths encasing them, the drow start to peel and tear themselves free. One of them is having a hard time getting a good grip, however, and struggles in vain.


Inside the guard post, a bolt from above catches Buppido's foe off guard, thudding into his neck. It's unclear if it hit any arteries, the bolt stopping any catastrophic bleeding on its own. That is until Derendil's claw swipe catches on the bolt and yanks it out, sending a fountain of blood spraying through the room. The creature drops like a sack of bricks.

*Cells*

...

*The Shrine*

Slipping out of the shrine, Nilvae-as-Kronryn closes the door behind her in the junior priestess' face, moving too quickly for she or the spider to attack again. Outside he finds Borthan locked in an intense duel with the elite drow warrior.

The rather unamused priestess swings the door open, kicking it with her foot and glaring at the false drow. She raises her holy symbol, *"I beseech you, baleful light of the Abyss, mark this interloper for death!"* Eerie purple light glows from the symbol and a bolt of energy rams into Nilvae's chest, leaving her feeling ill. Trails of light continue to wrap around her, and she sees highlighted marks upon her most vulnerable spots, glowing even through her illusion.

*The Commons*

...

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Stool casts Chill Touch on Drow Warrior, but misses.
Nilvae exits the shrine and closes the door behind her. I'll let her just use 5 feet of movement to close the door after opening it with use item.
Sarith shoots Quaggoth for a *14* damage sneak attack, nearly taking it down.
Derendil slashes at I assume the badly damaged Quaggoth, dealing *8* damage and a KO.

Drow Warriors attempt to break free of Entanglement. Two of them break free, but the third is held fast.
Asha opens the door and casts Guiding Bolt on Nilvae for *8* damage, marking her.

Eldeth and Dworic are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Mr. Spide - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

Leaning around the corner, Eldeth squeezes off a shot. When it goes wide she swiftly loads another bolt in its place and clips the quaggoth Topsy is holding on the bridge. Desperate to clear the way, Turvy repeats his previous chant, sending a trio of glowing spheres slamming into the quaggoth. The creature nearly falls to one knee, but in its last moments a feral vengeance lights up in its eyes.

*Cells*

Winding up with the chair to slam it into Duskryn, Dworic accidentally smacks it into the wall instead, knocking himself off balance and ruining the swing. Ront tightens his grip around the drow's throat, squeezing the breath from him as he struggles.

Laying a guiding hand upon Dworic's arm, Shuushar blesses him.

*The Shrine*

With Asha holding the door open, her pet spider scuttles out to sink fangs into Nilvae. The bite tears away some flesh, leaving her leg bloodied and searing with pain, but allowing very little of the poison inside. At the sight of most definitely not drow flesh in her spider's jaws. Asha smirks. *"Not a rival agent then. I'm afraid that makes your life worth... significantly less, 'Kronryn'."*

*The Commons*

Mr. Spide is set upon by the lolth-touched spider, who digs her fangs into him and injects venom. Mr. Spide twitches and then falls, before suddenly shifting into the form of a donkey as if out of nowhere, throwing the spider off. Dr. Donk's panicked rearing and braying can be heard from Nilvae's position down the hall.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Eldeth shoots with her hand crossbow, but misses.
Eldeth shoots with her bonus action Crossbow Expert attack, hitting Quaggoth for *7* damage.
Dworic reckless attacks Duskryn, but misses.
Ront advances the grapple to Restrain Duskryn.

Giant Spider bites Mr. Spide for *6* damage, and he fails to resist another *12* poison damage that KO's him. Dr. Donk emerges from the donk zone.
Giant Spider bites Nilvae for *11* damage, and *1* poison damage after making her save.
Giant Spider emerges below the bridge.

Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing *15* damage to the bridge Quaggoth.
Shuushar casts Virtue, granting Dworic *4* temp hp.

Faedryl is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

*Eighth Day, Escape*

With Duskryn 'tied up' by the orc - who was rapidly gaining favour with Faedryl for his adequate grappling skills - she turns to the encroaching foes, still in the tower, and with more yet on the way. Her fingers trace three elvish runes in the air in front of her, her finger trailing with gleaming orange light to momentarily construct each run in sequence before its completion. _Fuel. Ignite. Persist._ She joins the disparate words together with a binding circle, one made up of her own name, and with an ashen-voiced command word flames spring up beneath the feet of one of the quaggoth inside the tower. She couldn't risk setting the bridges alight, or their only route would be down, and that was no route she wished to take. With the flames now burning she gathers her strength and lashes out, aiming to shove another one of the hulking underdark 'workers' into the flames alongside its comrade. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* None, she's sitting pretty.
*Action:*  Cast _Create Bonfire_ on the quaggoth directly south of Derendil. Must make a dex save (1d20)[*20*]+modifier vs DC14 or take (1d8)[*7*] fire damage.
*Bonus Action:* Telekinetic shove on the quaggoth southeast of Derendil. Must make a strength save vs (1d20)[*2*]+modifier . DC14 or be shoved back five feet, right into his friend, but more importantly the bonfire. If the shove is successful, must make a dex save (1d20)[*18*]+modifier vs DC14 or take (1d8)[*5*] fire damage. Don't think it'd do extra bludgeoning damage to shove them into each other though.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

Summoned flames dance up from among the stones beneath the quaggoth facing Derendil, causing the creature to start hopping and dancing from foot to foot, avoiding the flares of fire. The other one still standing finds itself shoved into his dancing ally, who shoves him away into the wall out of annoyance. The annoyance turns to a brief flash of panic as the hyphae summoned by Stool start to catch fire around them, burning their fur.

While his back is turned, Buppido lunges forward onto the back of the quaggoth struggling in the flames. He digs his shiv into its chest from behind and rakes a long, bloody wound upwards while kicking off back onto the table.


On the bridge, Topsy lands a finishing blow in the quaggoth's chest, the last of its defiant strength fading as it slumps to the ground. She sets a boot against its neck and presses down, while reducing her profile to allow others to pass her. "Alright! Let's push!"

*Cells*

"You stupid oaf! Get off of me!" Duskryn shouts impotently as he struggles in vain against the orc's iron grip. Ront's mouth curls into a smug grin.

With no response from Faedryl about his wager, Jimjar shrugs it off and leans in to crack off another bolt at Duskryn. This time Ront turns the elf towards Jimjar, giving the gnome a clear shot to plant a poisoned bolt in his side. In spite of the poison, Duskryn continues struggling, apparently having a resistance. All the same, Jimjar quietly fistpumps at making the shot - perhaps he'd made a bet with himself instead.

*The Shrine*

The sounds from behind distract Borthan's opponent momentarily as he tilts his head to catch the priestess fighting 'Kronryn' in his peripheral vision. The opening allows Borthan to catch his balance. When the drow comes for him again, the ranger is ready, fending off both blades fluidly one after the other.

*The Commons*

Spinning around in a panic, the donkey in the commons kicks back at the spider, but his hooves sail too high to make contact with the arachnid.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire, then shoves one quaggoth into the other. It will do some small bludgeoning damage, halved between them, even though they made their saves against the fire. The *1* damage will be rounded off onto the shovee, while the other is fine.
The bonfire ignites the Entangle terrain, dealing *5* fire damage to each quaggoth and 1 failed death save to the downed one as it burns off. (Brown rectangle is burned area, which will expand but not double back on itself)

Duskryn tries and fails to break free of the grapple.

Buppido stabs bonfire Quaggoth for a *16* damage sneak attack, and an unarmed strike for *1* damage.

Drow Elite attacks Borthan twice with his shortsword and dagger, but both miss.

Jimjar sneak attacks Duskryn for *14* damage, but Duskryn passes his Con save.
Topsy stabs Quaggoth for *5* damage, scoring a KO, and uses her bonus action to stomp it for 2 failed death saves.
Dr. Donk makes two hoof attacks at Giant Spider, which miss.

Borthan is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 15/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

After deflecting both of the drow officer's blows, Borthan continued to test his defenses. If Borthan knew the definition of the word "ironic" he would consider it so that he had been locked in a hole in the rock for more than a week now and it was HIS endurance that was lasting longer in this fight. Then again, his wounds were mostly flesh wounds, while the first two blows he had landed on the officer would have been enough to end most. He darted forward with his right hand, attempting to skewer a lightly armored limb and possibly disarm his opponent. Reversing his grip on his blade in one swift motion, the second blow came from the left and was all muscle, trying to bury deep in the male's side in a killing blow. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

If I manage to kill the officer with one attack, I will shift my Hunter's Prey, move, and my second attack will be against the giant spider menacing Nilvae. If he survives both blows, I unforunately will not be able to come to Nilvae's aid this turn. If the officer dies, either way I will be moving up to support Nilvae. Attack 1-(1d20+5)[*16*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*10*] damage, plus (1d6)[*5*] from Hunter's Mark. Second attack- (1d20+5)[*18*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*10*] damage (-2 if it against a spider), plus (1d6)[*2*] for Hunter's Mark. Just in case I crit here's the extra damage- (2d6)[*8*] . If the officer survives both attacks, Borthan will circle around him to try to make sure a giant spider or drow warrior doesn't stab Bort in the butt.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

Expertly would be a strong word. But with the honed reflexes of a predator, the quaggoth stuck inside Faedryl's spell springs to and fro out of the way of the gushing flames, delivering a vengeful slash to Buppido that knocks the corrupted dwarf off balance. A second claw lashes out at Derendil, but deflects off of his shield.

The other quaggoth pats out smouldering spots on his hide, and lunges at Derendil. With his other arm, the prince conjures a second shield, this one of force, to deflect a claw. The second claw however reaches past his guard, plunging towards his chest as if to dig into his very heart - only to stop inches away from his flesh. A rippling field of energy flares and deflects the claw, flickering and shimmering as much of its power is expended in the effort.

*Cells*

...

*The Shrine*

Finding an opening after he parries one of the drow's blades, Borthan rams his sword through his opponent's arm. The drow does not cry out, or scream, or snarl. His body finally cannot withstand any more, and collapses in shock, sliding off of Borthan's blade.

Seeing Nilvae in trouble, he leaps over the body and thrusts his weapon into the spider gnawing at a piece of her leg.

*The Commons*

...

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan strikes Drow Elite for *15* damage and a KO, then moves Hunter's Mark and hits the Giant Spider for *10* damage.

Quaggoth claws at Buppido for *9* damage, and misses Derendil. He saves against the Bonfire.
Quaggoth claws at Derendil twice, one deflected by a Shield spell and the other hitting for *7* damage, absorbed by the Arcane Ward.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith, and Stool are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Where exactly the fire had come from Sarith doesn't know. Faedryl, perhaps, or one of the other prisoners. Regardless of who or what has caused it, it seems to be posing no threat to Sarith currently or iminently, so he'll simply take advantage of it while it's there and worry about it later. He darts out looses yet another bolt from his crossbow, before disappearing again. Whatever else happened, everyone else would be extremely softened up by the time this was all over - except for him, of course.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Move: Scoot round, shoot the quaggoth in the middle, then retreat.
Action: Attack: (1d20+8)[*25*] Advantage from hiding: [roll]1d20+8)[9] Damage: (1d6+4)[*9*]+ (1d6)[*6*] sneak attack

Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Hide. (1d20+6)[*11*] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: (1d20+6)[*20*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp), Rage
Concentrating on:

Between Derendil's arcane armor plates, his magic shield, and his magic ward, he manages to not take a wound from the dogpile of quaggoths surrounding him and Bupido. That doesn't mean the prince is free from stress, however. And as the attacks mount and his defenses crumble and fail, the beast rises in him again, straining against it's chains and begging for release. Knowing he has very little in the way of defensive abilities remaining, Derendil gives into it. In a rush his muscles swell, his eyes dilate, and he unleashes a roar of challenge as he side swipes a claw at the quaggoth who nearly wounded him.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rage. Attack- (1d20+5)[*24*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*9*] damage.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Entangle 

Squeaking again, Stool guides his spore cloud back at the melee between the gnomes and quaggoths. A voice appears in Buppido's head. If you want to eat archers, just yell.

*Spoiler*
Show

Entangle persists. Chill Touch: 24 to hit, 8 damage





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Eat squirrel poop, you flipping spider witch! cries with tears running down the chiseled drow face as she hears her faithful companion being butchered. Your kind will pay for this atrocity!

The half-elf pelts the drow's face with glowing stones.

*Spoiler*
Show

Bonus to enchant some stones, 19 to hit, 7 damage

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

With a defiant roar, Derendil lashes out, leaving jagged red marks across the face of the quaggoth that had nearly torn open his shield. In the confusion of the melee, another bolt flies out of seemingly nowhere to embed itself into the central quaggoth, whose eyes are filled with inhuman hatred. 

Topsy cries out as a bolt slashes across her leg, another flying by to strike the stone behind her. The bolt has left a smear of poison across the long shallow wound, but the gnome does not stagger or falter in spite of her size. "You'll be sorry for that when I get to you," she threatens the drow on the other bridge in elvish, to which he merely scoffs.

Leaning out of cover, Eldeth swiftly fires, loads, and fires again. But her shots are too panicked and hasty, clattering against the opposite wall of the guard post. One of them nearly strikes Buppido, though the dwarf seems unfazed.

"Laven Byon Seek!" voice peaking when his sister is shot, Turvy sends a trio of three magic missiles arcing and spiraling out. One clobbers the quaggoth in front of Derendil, knocking it to the ground. The other two slam into the offending Drow, nearly knocking him off of the bridge.

*Cells*

Evidently tired of all of this, Dworic's face contorts in rage as he swings the chair around and slams it into Duskryn's stomach, exposed by Ront. Crackling white lightning pulses from the impact point, scorching the drow's clothes and skin. Duskryn's strength begins to fade, between the damage inflicted and the choking grasp of Ront.

Closing his eyes, Shuushar breathes deeply. "Blee still, trububbled soul." Glowing needles of light appear around Duskryn, and his eyes go wide as they move towards him. But rather than impale him, they carefully and precisely prick pressure points on his body. The already weak drow's eyes flutter and droop, and he falls unconscious. _Please, allow him to live, and perhaps to learn from this._ the fishman telepathically beseeches Ront, 'audible' to anyone else affected by Stool's rapport spores.

The orc sniffs and curls his lip. _Only because we have enemies still attacking us fish eyes._ He drops Duskryn upon the stone floor unceremoniously.

Shuushar nods, accepting the answer, and walks out. Jimjar offers him a pat on the shoulder as he goes by. *"Nice work. Good to see you can actually fight."*

"Obly when ib woulb spare libes," the kuo-toa answers, walking up behind the crowd at the bridge with calm strides.

*The Shrine*

Grabbing pebbles from along the wall, Nilvae hurls one at the priestess. It strikes her in the cheek, causing her to recoil and catch the base of the statue with her hand for support. Strands of hair hang across her bruised cheek as she glares back. But Borthan is now standing in the doorway, his blades within a dangerous distance of her. Gripping her mace in both hands, she channels the same baleful purple light into the weapon and swings it at Borthan, leaving a trail arcing behind it like a shooting star.

Borthan ducks out of the way as the glowing weapon impacts the stone beside him, blowing off one of the door hinges in a flash of light.

As their fight continues, the trapdoor across the shrine opens. A male drow, clearly in his prime, climbs out. His face and hair are well washed and styled, and he's wearing nothing but a pair of hastily donned trousers, a shortsword in his hand. *"Priestess, Asha is under attack!"* he calls down into the depths of the reverse-tower, behind him.

"You've permission to kill whomever violates Lolth's shrine with their unbidden presence," replies an annoyed voice from below. The drow man begins crossing the room, murderous intent and confidence clear in spite of his lack of equipment.

*"It isn't Kronryn, they're using illusions,"* the younger priestess warns him as he looks between the two apparent drow.

*"Doesn't matter. I assumed some kind of coup. If not, that just means less paperwork,"* his mouth twitches into a grin. Borthan's combat high from taking down the elite is starting to fade, as the spider who'd been attacking Nilvae sinks its fangs into him instead. Behind him he can hear another one crawling through inside, its chitinous limbs clicking.

*The Commons*

The donkey's braying quiets and goes still as the spider drags it to the ground.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith shoots Middle Quaggoth for a *15* damage Sneak Attack, then Hides again. It is now critically low.
Derendil slashes Right Quaggoth for *9* damage.
Stool casts Chill Touch on Right Quaggoth for *8* damage.
Nilvae casts Magic Stone and hurls one at Asha for *7* damage.

Drow Warrior shoots at Topsy, missing.
Drow Warrior shoots at Topsy, hitting for *8* damage. She passes her save against drow poison.
Drow Warrior tries and fails to break free of Entangle.
Asha attempts to smite(?) Borthan, but misses.

Eldeth takes two shots with normal bolts, but misses badly with both.
Dworic Rages and hits Duskryn for *8* bludgeoning and *2* radiant damage.

Shoor enters the scene, but cannot reach Borthan yet.

Ront performs an unarmed strike on Duskryn for *8* damage.

Giant Spider bites Borthan for *6* piercing damage, and *3* poison after he makes his save.
Giant Spider bites Dr. Donk for *11* damage and *5* poison after he makes his save. The poison renders Dr. Donk unconscious and stable, for now.

Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing *5* to Middle Quaggoth for a KO, and *10* to Middle Drow Warrior.
Shuushar casts Spiritual Weapon pinning Duskryn for *11* Nonlethal damage, leaving him KO'd and stable. For now.

Faedryl is up! The fire spreads through the entanglement spaces.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

They were finally making headway on the quaggoths, though they had many more enemies left to fight yet, they would hopefully soon be rid of the meatiest opponents, but the fire spreading was unexpected, and unwanted. Evidently magic plants burned just as well as non-magical plants. Or perhaps her flames were just that potent. That could always be the case. Still, it was best not to let them linger too long. Her throat clangs again with the sound of a bell, against the one remaining standing quaggoth in the tower, before she shoves him with her mind once more, hoping to ignite him before she brings her flame spell to an end with a single thought. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* None, even if she could advance she doesn't want to...yet.
*Action:*  Cast _Toll the Dead_ on the quaggoth southeast of Derendil. Must make a Wis save (1d20)[*4*]+modifier vs DC14 or take (1d12)[*8*] necrotic damage.
*Bonus Action:* Telekinetic shove on the quaggoth southeast of Derendil. Must make a strength save vs (1d20)[*5*]+modifier . DC14 or be shoved back five feet, into the bonfire. If the shove is successful, must make a dex save (1d20)[*9*]+modifier vs DC14 or take (1d8)[*7*] fire damage. 

After the shove, regardless of success/fail, she drops concentration on the fire, for fear of the bridges getting damaged further.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

Clutching his ears, the final quaggoth in the guard post cringes and his breath catches in his throat, then Faedryl shoves him into the fire. Sensing weakness, Buppido flies off of his table, face lit eerily from below by the fading flames as he descends atop the creature. He drives his shiv into his chest until it passes out, then gets up and kicks another's nose into its skill. Satisfied with his grim work, he takes cover behind the wall, waiting behind the flow of flames running out onto the bridge.

Walking onto the first bridge and squatting next to the fallen quaggoth there, Jimjar gently covers its mouth and nose with a hand as he uses the other to take aim at the drow Turvy had blasted, dropping the warrior with a well placed bolt. The quaggoth's strained breathing ceases, and it goes limp peacefully, as if sleeping.

Passing him, Topsy picks up a dagger she'd thrown earlier and hurls a pair of them at the nearest drow, but her hasty throws go wide and they fly off into the darkness below, either in the water or the webbing somewhere. She bares her teeth and snarls at her own failure.

*The Shrine*



*The Commons*



*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Feadryl casts Toll the Dead on the last Quaggoth for *8* damage, and shoves him into the fire for *7* more, then drops the bonfire. He is critically wounded.
Buppido stabs the last Quaggoth for an *18* damage sneak attack, and then uses an unarmed strike to finish off one of the already downed ones.
Jimjar shoots Middle Drow Warrior for *9* damage and a KO. He uses an offhand unarmed strike to finish off the Quaggoth on the bridge.
Topsy flings two daggers at Top Drow Warrior for two misses.

Borthan is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan hissed out loud as the spider's fangs sank into his body, stumbling to the side as the poison began flowing through his veins. Godsdamn, I'm going to die with these stupid shortswords in my hand instead of my axes... Not one to go down without a fight, but knowing that without reaching Shushaar and the others he would most certainly be executed by the drow, he prepared to make a run for it. He attempted to slam the door to the shrine shut, but the giant spider's bulk would not be shifted. Raising his blades like shields, he began to back away slowly, warding off any blows, then made his way backward towards the bridge. For the first time since the fight began he took a look back to see how the others were doing, and he nearly spit in disgust to see most of them, including some of their strongest fighters, still back by the cells. And the bridge was on fire. Godsdamn, was that a disappointment. He'd love to hear why they had failed so spectacularly to reinforce their allies, but he doubted he would live long enough to find out.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Attempt and fail to slam the door on the shrine as object interaction. Action- disengage. Move 30 feet back towards the bridge and pray to Silvanus that Bort survives one more round.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*



*The Shrine*

Backing off from the door way, Borthan tries to slam the door into the spider and push it back inside. But its legs shove back with a hiss, forcing him to fend it off with his blades while trying to get away. Backing off finds him confronted with another fresh spider, crawled up into the tunnels from the webbing below, but he is able to circle partway around it until the fungal hyphae covering the bridge block his progress.

*Spoiler: Spider Speak*
Show

"I will suck the marrow from your bones for that insult, two-legs!"


*The Commons*



*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan fails to shove the door closed, and Disengages.

Neither of the Quaggoth miraculously self-resurrect.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith and Stool are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

With the quaggoths now down, Sarith moves on to targeting his former fellows. People who he'd broken bread with, fought alongside, and now was killing. He doesn't feel bad about it. In fact he doesn't feel _anything_ about it. Neither joy nor sadness, not anger or joy. It just simply was. He drops down from the hatch onto the ladder, gripping the rung with one hand as he leans out to launch a bolt at the soldiers on the bridge, before swiftly hopping back up to safety, looking to mask his presence through the chaos and conflict of battle. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Move: Scoot down, shoot the lead drow warrior, then retreat back to his hidey hole. 
Action: Attack: (1d20+8)[*14*] Advantage from hiding: (1d20+8)[*16*] Damage: (1d6+4)[*7*] + (1d6)[*2*] sneak attack

Bonus Action: Cunning Action: Hide. (1d20+6)[*16*] Disadvantage due to exhaustion: (1d20+6)[*15*]

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool looks around at the others, who rear to fight in melee. He grants them their wish, and advances himself.

*Spoiler*
Show

Entangle ceased.





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 3/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Tears continue to run down Nilvae's cheeks as she looks at Borthan. Go with the others, you have a chance still, my dwarf-drow. She smiles a last time before invoking the last of her powers granted by Puck, a devastating sleep spell, of course useless against the drow aggressors.

She hopes the stubborn elf forfeits her safety, and forgets her soon after her imminent death. Her head turns towards the drow priestess. Now you ragged old ugly witch, with your himbo boyfriend. The demonic swarm will consume your outpost and your outpost, even if I die. You may not want to loose your guards to a prisoner riot.

*Spoiler*
Show

Cast sleep for 17 hp, hopefully at least getting the spider. 17 in Deception to try and get Asha to divert some forces for the defense of the outpost.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Damnit, Nilvae, FALL BACK! Borthan grits his teeth as he watches the crazy woman make her last stand. WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (9 rounds)

When the last of the quaggoths fall, Derendil gets a view of the bridge full of drow warriors. Clambering over the bodies, he rushes forward, leaping off one of his dead "kinsman" and coming down with muscle and claw at the nearest drow, attempting to break through to their allies to the south.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Move and slash at the nearest drow. (1d20+5)[*10*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*7*] damage. (1d6)[*2*] in case of crit.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

Climbing down onto the top rung of the lantern, Sarith pops a bolt through the wall of flame. It sinks into drow flesh, and Sarith vanishes back into the armory as the flames flicker and vanish into a cloud of falling sparks, their fuel vanishing when Stool dispels the fungal entanglement.

Following the bolt, Derendil leaps onto the bridge. But his target ducks back out of the way of his razor claws, curling his lips in fear and disgust. He draws a shortsword in his free hand and jabs at Derendil, but fails to connect. Further down the bridge, the second drow fires a bolt at the intimidating quaggoth prince. But the bolt deflects off of the glowing arcane plating of his mage armor.

A second bolt plunks into the drow's body alongside Sarith's, and unable to withstand any more he collapses on the bridge. Eldeth reloads and fires again at the other drow, but her bolt goes wide. With Duskryn taken down, Dworic begins a purposeful march in search of his next foe.

Holding a pair of fingers to the side of his head, Turvy stares at the last drow on the bridge. The elf suddenly starts bleeding from the eyes and shouts in pain, doubling over. "Hey! Hey, make a run for it!" he shouts at Borthan across the bridge, an opening made for the ranger to bypass the drow safely - and for allies to bypass the drow to reach him.


Behind Faedryl, the large orc leans forward, resting his hands on his knees and taking heavy breaths. He is still visibly exhausted, and tired out by the struggle wrestling Duskryn to the ground. The floating spirit-needles glide past out of the tunnels to hover in the air, while Shuushar weaves a minor blessing upon Faedryl.

*The Shrine*

The spider before Nilvae inhales the cloud of fairy dust she breathes out into the air, stumbling and then sinking peacefully to the ground to snooze. Behind it, the drow priestess scowls. *"I think you've mistaken me for someone else..."* she states condescendingly, but a glance is spared towards the shirtless drow man next to her. *"I will investigate this demon claim. Lolth's wards should hide us, but we should be certain."*

Raising her arm, the priestess walks over the spider. A ray of light flashes down from above Nilvae, but she manages to duck out of the way of it. Seeming to consider her a non-threat, the drow priestess steps away from her to walk down the hallway. A final show of insult, leaving herself open.

The shirtless drow approaches Nilvae, attempting to execute her with a stab as though she were already on her knees. But the girl is running hard on adrenaline, and swerves around his strike. Face contorting in indignation, he takes a swing with his fist, punching the wall behind her when she moves her head out of the way. *"Damned girl!"* he curses.

Standing at the end of the bridge, Borthan fixes the flat of his blade against a lunging spider's face, holding it back as fangs swing and slash at his chest.

*The Commons*

The victorious spider enjoys her prize, sinking her fangs into the helpless hound.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith shoots Drow Warrior for a *9* damage sneak attack, then hides again.
Stool drops Entangle.
Nilvae casts Sleep, putting the Giant Spider in the doorway to sleep.
Derendil attacks Drow Warrior, but misses.

Drow Warrior attacks Derendil, but misses.
Drow Warrior shoots at Derendil, but misses.
Asha casts Sacred Flame on Nilvae, but she evades. Asha moves past, provoking a melee AoO from Nilvae.

Eldeth shoots, critically hitting Drow Warrior for *6* damage and a KO.
Eldeth bonus action shoots at the last Drow Warrior at range Disadvantage, missing.
Dworic dashes. His rage ends.

Shoor attacks Nilvae and takes an unarmed swing, but both miss.

Ront waits, the bridge is too crowded for him to move through with his Exhaustion levels.

Giant Spider drinks Brutus/Muttley.
Giant Spider bites at Borthan, but misses.

Turvy casts Mind Spike on Drow Warrior, dealing *7* damage. Drow Warrior cannot take Reactions, and can only take a move, action or bonus action on its next turn. This means anyone can scooch past him without Provoking.
Shuushar moves his Spiritual Weapon.
Shuushar casts Guidance on Faedryl.

Faedryl is up. Duskryn and Drow Elite are down, so Borthan can also act in this block.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan resumes his defensive stance as he backs away from the spider, slowly lowering it to the ground before dashing backward with blades raised. Then began an awkward, inelegant dance across the bridge, stepping past dazed drow, over dead drow, and scooting dangerously close to the edge of the bridge. When he reaches the quaggoth who appeared to be an ally (and also spoke some weird flavor of elvish), he slapped him on the shoulder as a means of encouragement. I killed the one that knew how to fight. I'm tapping out and moving to the back line to throw stuff. Go git em, tall, grey, and fuzzy. Then he turned and shouted for Nilvae. Come on, crazy woman! The closer you are to us if you fall the more likely the fish can put you back together! I don't care if you get knocked out, you're getting out of here!




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil growls at the perceived attack at first, but then he simply ignores it. The half-blood had done some work, even if he had only killed one.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

The turn in battle was excellent, for her, and she can't help but smugly smile as the prisoners file up the bridge in front of her, using the momentum to push past the quaggoths. They'd be beyond the armoury shortly, and then the real fight would begin. The only downside was that she couldn't ride the momentum with them, the bridge was too narrow, and she didn't wish to risk taking the plunge below. Instead, she continues to provide ranged support from the back lines, as a leader should. Aiming to wrap one of the drow blocking the way in dark magic, her throat clangs. They, at least, seemed less sturdy than the quaggoths. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* Not clear if she can move into the tower to get under the ladder, or if there's too many people which'll slow her down - I'm guessing the latter. If she can move up, she will do, if not, no biggie.
*Action:*  Cast _Toll the Dead_ on closest drow warrior that's still standing. I think he's uninjured? Must make a Wis save (1d20)[*15*]+modifier vs DC14 or take (1d8)[*7*] necrotic damage.
*Bonus Action:* If she can move forwards, she's in range for a telekinetic shove on the drow warrior. If not, disregard. Must make a strength save vs (1d20)[*10*]+modifier . DC14 or be shoved back five feet, into his buddy.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

It's hard to tell through the flashes of pain and distraction from Turvy's mental assault if Faedryl's spell has any effect. As he staggers, Buppido passes Borthan going opposite ways across the bridge, approaching the drow to shank him in the chest, sending him down onto the wood.

Inside the guard post, Jimjar squats down at the bottom of the ladder and gently holds his hands over the mouth and nose of one of the dying quaggoth to ease it into the after. Catching on, Topsy attempts to slit the throat of the other one, but it isn't enough to kill just yet. The quaggoth spasms and spurts blood, Topsy frowning in dissatisfaction at her cut.

*The Shrine*



*The Commons*



*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, but Drow Warrior resists.

Buppido readies an action to attack as Borthan passes, giving him Sneak Attack.

Jimjar finishes off one of the unconscious Quaggoth.
Borthan Disengages and moves along the bridge, triggering Buppido's sneak attack, which deals *12* damage and KO's.
Topsy deals 2 failed death saves to the other downed Quaggoth.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith and Stool are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Though he has no love for the prisoners, Sarith equally does not wish to miss out on the fight. So when he pops down to loose another bolt and finds no easy targets, he does the only 'logical' thing and abandons his hiding place. They were no longer in range of his bolts, so he would have to close the distance. On able feet he slips between the other prisoners, weaving through them like air through trees, before loosing a bolt at the nearest spider. Best to put it out of its misery before it suffered worse.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Dash. 
*Move:* Move forwards as far as he can go, shooting the spider on the way.
*Action: Attack:* (1d20+8)[*9*] Advantage from hiding: (1d20+8)[*10*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*8*] + (1d6)[*6*] sneak attack

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (10 rds.) 
Concentration: - 

The little myconid squeaks like a small angry rodent as its club elongates. It crushes down on the remaining quaggoth

*Spoiler*
Show

Shillelagh for 19 to attack and 11 damage.





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 3/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Hey cutie. Nilvae suddenly flirts with the naked drow male. Can't you just reconsider? Suddenly flower petals are falling, framing Kronryn's shape. After we kill her, we can make off and start a new life.

*Spoiler*
Show

Fey Presence wis save 17 vs. my dc of 14

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage

Derendil charges across the bridge, nearly on all fours, and barrels into the giant spider with claws extended, attempting to tear it apart before it can fight back.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Moved in Roll20. Attack- (1d20+5)[*11*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*7*] damage. [roll1d6[/roll] in case of a crit.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Guard Post*

Sarith's bolt goes wide, striking the stone wall of the cavern next to the spider. The creature turns around and raises itself up, hissing threateningly and indignantly. Before it can advance upon the traitor drow, Derendil storms across the bridge, swatting at it with a claw. The spider weaves back and around the swipe. More bolts and a freezing ray clatter against the stone from the rearguard as the dwarves and others advance, but the spider is having no better luck striking true with its fangs.

Buppido walks up alongside Derendil at the end of the bridge and sinks his blade into the distracted spider. Behind him, Jimjar slips onto the bridge and stays low to keep out of the way of those firing across the gap, unwilling to risk hitting Buppido or Sarith himself. He instead continues to work as a gentle angle of death, seeing the fallen to their hereafter.

Back in the guard post, Stool soundly crushes the skull of the quaggoth Topsy had been trying to put down, spattering more gore around. She wipes her face with her sleeve and stands back up. "Good work." Stepping through, Dworic continues to ensure no enemies get back up behind them, slamming his chair into the face of the elf next to Borthan.

*The Shrine*

The swirling aura of flower petals frames Kronryn(Nilvae)'s form, and Shoor recoils slightly from the display. *"No, thank you,"* he states coldly, thrusting his weapon forward. This time it pierces Nilvae's side, and she feels herself growing cold as the world darkens around her. She slumps to the ground and feels the drow's boot press against the back of her head, pressing down as her consciousness fades. The last thing she sees is another shape rising up out of the trapdoor inside.

With the warlock lying in a growing pool of blood, the shirtless elf turns his attention towards Derendil and flicks blood off of his sword as he starts to approach. Yet it's Sarith's face he locks in on, over the back of the spider. *"Sarith. Why am I not surprised you've thrown in with these inferior beings, instead of facing this with some dignity?"* The high priestess' current boy toy taunts him.

*The Commons*

The priestess walks away from the shrine, reaching the commons area. Regarding the two slumped over guards near the lift, she walks over and boots one of them with her foot. *"Get up, fool. We've got intruders to deal with. Go!"* her voice can be heard near the bridge, carrying through the cavern. The now quite full giant spider crawls up to her.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith Dashes and shoots at Giant Spider, but misses.
Derendil misses Giant Spider as well.
Stool puts down the last guard post Quaggoth.
Nilvae uses Fey Presence, but Shoor passes his save.

Asha kicks a Quaggoth awake for *1* damage.

Eldeth moves up and takes a disadvantaged shot at the Giant Spider, since she can ignore her allies' cover, but she misses. She tries again for another miss.
Dworic moves up and attacks a downed Drow Warrior, finishing it off.

Shoor hits Nilvae for *5* damage and a KO, then unarmed strikes her for 2 failed death saves to add insult to injury.

Ront Dashes.

Giant Spider bites at Derendil, but misses.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost, but misses Giant Spider.
Shuushar moves, and moves his Spiritual Weapon. He maintains Guidance on Faedryl for now.
Buppido sneak attacks Giant Spider for *15* damage.

I confirmed that Drow Elite dies and does not get up.

Jimjar puts down another Drow Warrior, and gets to work on a second.

Faedrul and Borthan are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

With the bridge clear, Faedryl moves into the tower to follow behind the group, just in time to see Nilvae fall. Was it their first loss? Could she be saved? Should Faedryl even try? The questions come rapid fire in her mind but the conclusion is...yes. She should do what she can. That was all she could do. She leans back into a familiar casting stance, drawing the elvish runes for _Magic. Pierce. Entropy._ in the air in front of her with a glowing fingertip. She beckons the arcane powers forward, crystalising them into three bolts that stream over the heads of her people - for they were, for now at least - to strike the thick bodied drow that was approaching. They slam into him with unerring accuracy. She went to call Shuushar's name and finds that she cannot recall it. She hadn't committed it to memory, if it had even been spoken in her presence. It had been a stressful few days. She opts to exclude any names entirely. "One of them went down at the front! You need to save her!" she says to him with as much urgency as she can muster. _Save._ Not a word she expected to be using today.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* Into the tower.
*Action:*  Cast _Magic Missile_ on Shoor. *4* per missile rolled in discord, for *12* force damage. 
*Bonus Action:* No one in range for shoving, so she'll chill on the mental shove.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan advances back in the direction of the enemy, seamlessly sliding his two shortswords into their sheaths as he advances. Finding a position behind Bupido, he decides to show his new friends an old trick he used to use to swindle drinks in taverns. In one practiced motion he draws two daggers and once, spins them both nimbly in his palm while raising his arms up, and lets both of them fly at the giant spider. In those throws he channels all the anger and despair at seeing Nilvae fall when he is not close enough, too wounded, and not trained well enough to aid her.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Dagger attacks- (1d20+5)[*24*] and (1d20+5)[*25*] to hit, and (1d4+3)[*4*] and (1d4+3)[*5*] damage. (1d4)[*4*] if I manage to crit.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

Three crystalline meteorites of coalesced magic form and arc through the crowd with absolute precision, homing in on the shirtless drow who'd just joined the fight. They slam into his chest, leaving marks that will surely bruise. He looks out across the crowded bridge, unable to pick out who just shot him.

"I bwill reach her if I can," voice filled with a new sense of urgency, the fishman moves alongside Faedryl, looking across the bridge and trying to plan a route. "Please holb on..."

Filled with desperate strength after Nilvae's fall, Borthan sends both daggers spiralling into the spider's back with fierce precision. The creature's chitinous shell leaks green-yellow oozing fluids from inside. Topsy stands behind him on the bridge, attempting to toss a dagger over their heads. But her arc is too wide and it sails past, clattering down the tunnel. With a firm frown she kneels down and slits the last fallen drow's throat. 

*The Commons*

Past their current foes, the group at the end of the bridge can see another quaggoth lumbering swiftly down the hall on three limbs, the fourth rubbing its eyes.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Magic Missile, for *12* damage on Shoor.
Borthan hits Giant Spider with two throws for *4* damage, and a *9* damage crit.
Topsy finishes off the last Drow Warrior, but misses a throw on the Giant Spider.

Nilvae, Derendil, Sarith and Stool are up. Nilvae makes her first, and possibly last Death Save.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 13/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (7 rounds)

Derendil lashes out at the spider again, attempting to eliminate a foe from the fight. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

To hit- (1d20+5)[*18*] and (1d6+5)[*6*] damage.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

With practiced fingers he loads another bolt into his crossbow and looses it at the closest target that still stands in his way. It wouldn't be long now until the full outpost was bearing down on them, and they couldn't stay on the bridge clumped up like this. One errant fire or thunder spell could send them all tumbling to the ooze below.


*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action: Attack:* (1d20+8)[*28*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*9*] + *6* crit damage (in discord)
Conditional Actions if no skill check required:
*Object Interaction:* Stow crossbow so he's got both hands free.
*Move:* Drop down the side of the bridge and grab the edge.
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide. (1d20+6)[*11*] Disadvantage from exhaustion: (1d20+6)[*13*]

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (10 rds.), Wildshape (Giant Lizard) 
Concentration: - 

Stool notices the urgent plea of the fish man, and squeaks. Its form contorts, hyphae extend and after a while, a surprisingly slimy example of a giant cave lizard stands next to Shuushar. Hold onto Stool! We go underside. it squeals happily. If the large fish is fast enough and agrees, the fungal lizard uses the underside of the bridge to get to Nilvae.




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 3/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Laying on the floor, Nilvae's form does not shift, indicating she is still alive as the fey magic courses through her.

*Spoiler*
Show

Death Saves:
Failed: XX
Succeeded: X

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

Derendil grabs onto the spider with his claw, gripping it by the face and digging his sharp nails into its face. But its strong, solid chitin holds as its fangs flail at his arm. While the quaggoth holds the beast in place, Sarith loads in a new bolt and lines up a shot carefully. With a thunk, his bolt sinks straight into the spider's face just below Derendil's grasp and it goes slack.

"Blubssed aid, friend. Let us ride!" Swinging into Stool's back as the druidic shroom shifts into a lizardly form, the kuo-toa takes a firm grasp with his webbed arms and feet. Stool crawls around the outside of the crowded guard post, carrying Shuushar along the bottom of the bridge. The kuo-toa cranes his stubby neck, but still can't get a view of Nilvae. Reaching up over the edge of the bridge, he waves at Dworic. "Blease, assist me up. Toss me ib bloo must! I must reach the girl beblore she exbires!"

Looking down, Dworic heaves Shuushar back onto the bridge, now nearer to his destination. Then the dwarf pushes his way across the bridge himself, kicking the lifeless bodies off the edge and into the webbing below to clear up space.

From inside of the shrine of Lolth, a stately drow woman emerges. Features older and sharper than the younger Asha, her eyes glare at the escapees with searing superiority. As if she were looking at ants that dared crawl upon her porch. "All hands, _contain this_. Recapture the prisoners! They have many losses to pay back." She adjusts her top, which looks to have been donned rather hastily, and flicks a rod at her side. Three long tentacles flail to life out of the tip, probing and lashing at the air as if they had a life of their own. She commands one of them to nudge the sleeping spider awake, stirring it from the depths of Nilvae's enchantment.

*"As you bid, Mistress."* Clearly pleased to show off in front of his matron, Shoor kicks up one of the fallen elite's blades to accompany his own, a pair of thrusts landing home against Derendil. The arcane barrier is punctured at last, and Derendil again feels the flesh of his alien body parted by the weapons of his captors. Then, unexpectedly, he feels something prick his leg. Looking down he can see the dying spider twitching with vestiges of life, sinking its fangs into him. A sinking feeling fills the quaggoth, and he feels his body fall out beneath him as he slumps against the wall. He finds himself paralyzed, unable to move yet eyes still open and seeing, blurry as his vision is.

Watching the frontline fall one by one, Topsy frowns and looks into the waterfall beside them, and the water below. "Hate to say it, but we may want to make a break for it. Turvy! Go for the shore!" the female gnome calls out. Her brother hesitates, looking at their motley gang of fellow inmates, but ultimately decides to follow his sister's instructions. He leaps from the bridge and dives into the water below, swimming quickly to the shore once he surfaces.

*The Commons*

Out of view and earshot, the priestess Asha continues to gather aid.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae passes her Death Save, living another round.
Stool turns into a Giant Lizard and picks up Shuushar, carrying him forward some.
Derendil slashes Giant Spider for *6* damage.
Sarith shoots Giant Spider for a *15* damage crit, and a KO.

Dworic lifts Shuushar back onto the bridge and clears some bodies for map QoL.
Eldeth is unable to get in position for a better shot, so she Delays her turn.

Ilvara uses her action to nudge Giant Spider awake.
Shoor grabs a second shortsword and stabs Derendil twice for *3* and *2* damage after Resistance, breaking his barrier.

Ront Dashes.

Giant Spider critically stabilizes, and bites at Derendil for *3* piercing damage after resistance, and *12* poison damage. Derendil is KO'd, paralyzed, and stabilizes automatically.
Giant Spider bites Buppido for *10* piercing and *10* poison. Buppido is KO'd paralyzed, and stabilizes automatically.

Turvy Long Jumps past the webs and down into the water, then swims to shore using his Dash.

Faedryl is up. Borthan may also take his action. I'll wait on some of the NPCs and on Eldeth, to see what they do.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

*Eighth Day, Escape*

She can't exactly blame the gnomes for their retreat, seeing Nilvae dying and Derendil now down as well. The momentum was swinging in the other direction, slowly whittled down by the outpost's numbers. Her spellbook and component pouch was here though, and she didn't fancy her chances in the Underdark even less equipped than she already was. She doesn't know the words to say here. Encourage? Call a retreat? Would they listen? In their shoes, would she? She opts to lead by example, not by simple words, once again calling forth flames to rise up beneath the feet of her enemies - this time the one looming over Derendil's unconscious form. To add insult to injury, she aims her telekinesis at the spider adjacent, looking to push it into the flames alongside the drow. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* Step forward 5' into the gap that's available. 
*Action:*  Cast _Create Bonfire_ on Shoor. (1d20)[*20*]+modifier DexSave vs 14 or take (1d8)[*5*] fire damage. 
*Bonus Action:* Shove the spider above Shoor back into him. (1d20)[*19*]+modifier StrSave vs 14 or be pushed back 5' into Shoor. And the fire. (1d20)[*1*]+modifier DexSave vs 14 or take (1d8)[*1*] fire damage.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan looks forward at the coming enemies and downed allies, back at the prisoners who they have to move in and do battle, and makes a snap judgement call. At best, he could throw three more daggers, and it seemed likely he would be face to face with a foe again almost immediately. At worst, he would get in the way of those coming up to fight and go down fighting. Noble, some would say. He had no stomach for nobility. Borthan turns and shouts over his shoulder. Keep fightin if you want, but I'm gonna get the wounded out of here. Anyone who can't or won't fight, try to do the same. I make you all a promise, though. I'm coming back. That said, Borthan takes a few steps to run up and leaps off the bridge across to the ledge on the other side. Leaning down, he does his best to drag the quaggoth away from the looming spider. If anyone was gonna haul the big half-beast, it might as well be someone strong.  He scoops the hulking, paralyzed form over his shoulders, turns back to the enemies, and awkwardly lumbers forward and leaps towards the waterfall. He attempts to slide the quaggoth off his shoulders to the right so they don't hit the water as one mass. When they both splash down, Borthan intends to support the quaggoth and haul it to shore.


*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

10 feet of movement to jump across to be adjacent to Derendil. Action to scoop up Derendil and avoid AoO from the spider. Use remaining movement to leap off the edge, hopefully avoiding the webs. If I have any movement left, swim to Derendil, get his head above water, and start moving to shore.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

The magical flames shoot up around Shoor, but the drow's eyes light up with recognition at the incantation, and he dances and weaves around them, in motions that would be captivating lit up from below if not for the frustration. Faedryl's frustrated shove against the spider fails to make it budge, its eight legs gripping the ground firmly.

Leaping into the firelight, Borthan grabs Derendil and drags the strangely friendly quaggoth off the ledge with him, plunging past the webs and into the dark water below. Shuushar walks forwards, standing on the edge of the bridge and finally catching a glimpse of Nilvae upon the ground, blood pooling around her. *"Live!"* he calls out, healing magic spreading through her body, as she gasps awake. After doing all he can, the fishman grabs Buppido in a fireman carry and jumps off the bridge, sailing down past the web and landing with a splash next to Borthan.

Jimjar snaps off a shot with his crossbow that knocks the risen spider back into unconsciousness, then backs up across the bridge to find a better place to leap from. Topsy runs past and dives off after her brother, plunging gracefully into the water.


Nilvae awakens to find herself at the feet of a drow priestess, who looks back at her dismissively. A quaggoth looms over her, teeth bared, and a second one is swiftly bearing down on her. "Knock this one out. It dies, you take its place," the priestess orders her quaggoth guard, who complies and punches Nilvae in the jaw, slamming her back into the ground. But she feels one last fleeting bit of strength left in her, twisting her head out of the way of a second punch.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire, but Shoor passes his save.
Faedryl uses a telekinetic shove, but Giant Spider passes its save.
Shuushar casts Healing Word on Nilvae, healing her for *10*.

Quaggoth misses Nilvae, then hits for *9*, leaving her barely conscious.

Nilvae, Sarith, and Stool are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (10 rds.), Wildshape (Giant Lizard; 19/19 HP) 
Concentration: - 

The lizard wonders why its rider demounts but advances regardless. There were innocents to be saved. It swiftly crosses the bridge only to open its maw and expunges another wave of spores at Shoor, something that should be not possible by any means.

*Spoiler*
Show

Halo of Spores Con 13 save or suffer 1d4 necrotic damage. (3d20)[*1*][*12*][*10*](23) damage (3d4)[*2*][*1*][*3*](6)
Shoor con save (1d20)[*14*]






*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 15 HP: 1/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: Mask of Many Faces (Kronryn, 1h), Beast Speech (1h) 
Concentration: -

Nilvae jolts up as she is gently awoken via healing magic only to be punched again. Can't even bring yourself to kill your precious lover? Think you're not woman enough to fight me alone? You drow sluts are all the same! she says as she spits out unhealthy amounts of blood.

*Spoiler*
Show

Half movement to stand up, Dodge action.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

He thought they still had a decent chance of winning. Yes, there would be deaths, but surely they expected to die in the process? Sarith notes that Faedryl hasn't retreated yet, but he _has_ lost any sort of cover. Weaving away from the spider in front of him he darts back behind the dwarf, loosing a poisoned bolt at Shoor. *"Is Duskryn dead?"* She shoots him a quizzical look, it was hardly the topic for this fight. "Unconscious, I think." He tuts quietly. They could fix it on their return though. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Disengage.
*Move:* Away from the spider, fire at Shoor.
*Action: Attack:* (1d20+8)[*11*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*9*] + (1d6)[*2*] sneak attack. Firing a drow bolt, which I believe is a Con save? (1d20)[*14*]+modifiers.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

Skipping back out of the way, Sarith raises his weapon and fires. His tired arm sways more than he'd like, and the bolt clatters against stone past his target. A lizard creature covered in slime molds crawls past him, emerging from below the bridge to spit spores at Shoor. The drow covers his face with his arm, mouth in the crook of his elbow with an expression of disgust. He jabs his weapon at the creature before him, meeting air. Then a second time, parting some of its flesh to reveal fungal growths beneath. Spores puff out, descending upon the spider nearby which is trying to stand up from the ground _yet again_. The spores eat away at its weakened form, and its legs slip, bringing it down once more.

Gripping the chair with both hands, Dworic hurls it at the still-standing spider, but it overshoots and bounces off of the creature's tough chitinous hide. A burning inside of him urges him to remain, to fight and claw until his last breath, but it would be a pointless death against pointless drones. So instead he begins to pull back with the others. Eldeth leans out of the doorway after he passes, loosing a pair of bolts at the same spider. One spears it soundly, while the other goes wide.

The spider hisses in anger, sinking fangs into Stool's disgusting reptilian form. Venom courses through the insides of the beast, and Stool feels a shock of pain as it is forced back into its original, fungal form.

Ront picks up on what's going on and starts falling back, his tired footfalls forced and his eyelids heavy as he forces himself to move. Standing on the other bridge, he sways back and forth as of trying to build up momentum to clear the webs with a jump.


"_My_ lover?" the priestess turns to look at the disguised Nilvae, struggling to her feet. "You're almost convincing. You match his arrogant bravado quite well." With no effort on her part, like it's an afterthought, the tentacles attached to her rod lash out at Nilvae. She manages to stumble limply around two, before the last slaps her across the face. Stars spin again in her eyes as she falls to the ground.


"Laven Byon Seek!" a voice echoes up from below, and four gleaming missiles sail up, swerving through the gaps in the webbing with unerring precision before riddling the side of the spider on the edge of the bridge with holes punched into its abdomen. The creature collapses silently, dead, and the faces of the two drow contort in vengeful grimaces.

"Remember Shoor, living will not be a mercy for them..."

*The Pool*

As he surfaces, grabbing onto the unconscious quaggoth's side, Borthan notices a slick oily substance rolling over the surface of the water towards the base of the falls. The ooze, come to hunt for its meal.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae Dodges.
Stool uses Pacifying Spores on Shoor, who passes his save.
Sarith shoots at Shoor, but misses.

Dworic throws his chair at Giant Spider, but misses.
Eldeth shoots Giant Spider for a *14* damage crit, but misses with the second shot.

Ilvara tentacles Nilvae for two misses and one hit, which KOs her with nonlethal damage.
Shoor slashes at Stool twice, hitting his shifted form only once for *7* damage.

Ront Dashes.

The Immortal Giant Spider critically succeeds a death save and starts to get back up, but Stool's Halo of Spores KO it again.
Giant Spider bites Stool for *5* piercing damage and *12* poison, breaking his Wild Shape.

Turvy casts Magic Missile, killing the conscious Giant Spider.

Faedryl goes! Borthan may go as well, as there are no important intervening turns.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

*Eighth Day, Escape*

The sight of the tentacle rod was enough for Faedryl to consider the battle lost. They were too few and too weakened to muster a proper defense to that, and she had almost expended her full magical repetoire. They had to do weaken what they could now though. Neither side was getting reinforcements, and every death and chipped away life was one fewer they would have to fight tomorrow or the day after. Playing it smart, they could win through attrition. "Once the big one goes down we run, we can't beat the priestesses in our current state." It's muttered, quiet so that only those nearby could hear.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Shoor appears to have ended his turn in the bonfire, and therefore provokes another save: (1d20)[*14*]+modifier DexSave vs 14 or take (1d8)[*7*] fire damage. 

*Move:* Step forward, cast her spells, then back behind Sarith, no net change.
*Bonus Action:* Activate the _Hexblade Curse_ on Shoor.
*Action:*  Cast _Magic Missile_ on Shoor. Dealing (1d4)[*4*]+3 *3=*21* damage total.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Seeing the ooze spreading across the water in front of him, Borthan grabs the quaggoth and starts swimming away at top speed. Someone throw down a corpse to distract this stupid puddle of muck!



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Swim 15, Dash 15.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

Bolts of magic sail across the bridge, rapidly slamming into Shoor, even as he dances around the flashes of flame from below him. Ripples of distorted space echo out from the impact points, knocking the breath out of him. The drow grits his teeth and maintains composure in spite of the powerful spell strike.

But just as headway is being made against the shirtless drow, a new pair of quaggoth arrives at the other side of the bridge. One of them can't get into the melee and tosses a stone that bounces off of the wall behind Stool. The other tries to claw and grab at the little mushroom, but the bucket proves surprisingly durable against the monster's slashing claws.

*The Pool*

Borthan and Shuushar begin to swim for the shore. Following Borthan's gaze, Shuushar spots the oily ooze gliding towards them and follows the half-drow, rapidly overtaking him and moving ahead. Up above the floating needles of light hover at the end of the bridge hesitantly, Shuu unable to bring himself to strike the fallen spider.

Ahead of them, Jimjar dives down into the water and begins swimming to shore, where Topsy is already climbing out of the cold water, shivering. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl sets her Hexblade Curse on Shoor and casts Magic Missile on him for *21* damage, but he avoided the fire damage on his turn - forgot to roll that myself, apologies.
Shuushar Dashes, and directs his Spiritual Weapon next to Stool to menace impotently.
Jimjar tosses a Quaggoth corpse down on top of a drow corpse on the web, but the web holds them both.
Jimjar Dashes.
Borthan Dashes.
Topsy Dashes.

Quaggoth claws at Stool, but they go off of the bucket.
Quaggoth tosses a stone at Stool, but misses.

Sarith and Stool are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

One more and then they would leave. So be it. Taking Shoor down was a worthy target, he supposed, and Faedryl was right - they were not in a state to defeat Ilvara as they were. He slips into the tower, feinting that he's retreating with the others, before darting back out and loosing a bolt at Shoor, hoping to throw him off balance with the quick movements.

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Slip into the tower, Hide, then return and fire.
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide. (1d20+6)[*9*] With Disadvantage: (1d20+6)[*15*]
*Action: Attack:* [1d20+8[/roll] Potential advantage with successful Hide: (1d20+8)[*25*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*8*] + (1d6)[*5*] sneak attack. Firing a drow bolt, which I believe is a Con save? (1d20)[*8*]+modifiers.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (8 rds.)
Concentration: - 

Valiantly the tiny mushroom hides behind his poop bucket as he lashes back out at the drow warrior. His stick enveloped in green-brown glowing goo misses heavily, only spritzing the drow in a bit of bracken water.

*Spoiler*
Show

Shillelagh vs. Shoor misses with a 7.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

The little stick Stool is wielding grows to a large size, covered in viscous green goop, and he slams it down. But Shoor sidesteps, leaving it to splatter against the burning ground, filling the air with the stink of brackish water and hot sewage. The drow curls his face in disgust, but the distraction is exactly what Sarith needs to get off a shot. His bolt slashes across Shoor's chest, leaving a cut, but the poison doesn't seem to have seeped in enough to inflict its effects.

Dragging out one of the quaggoth corpses, Dworic tries to toss it through the web to distract the ooze below, but the web holds soundly. 

Walking up next to Shoor, Ilvara gazes across the bridge and holds out a hand. She locks eyes with Sarith, cold spite in her eyes, and utters a single command. "Wither." A sickly green bolt of light, thin as a needle, arcs between them, and Sarith feels his stomach turn and his limbs go weak like gelatin. His vision flickers and goes dark, as he falls backwards onto the bridge, skin paling into an ashen grey.

Emboldened, Shoor delivers a pair of small, precise cuts that dip below Stool's protective bucket and stab at his feet.

*The Pool*

Eldeth dives into the water from above. Not far behind her, Ront practically belly flops into the water.

On the shore, Turvy looks at those still in the water. His hands are shaking, and he speaks up for once, fueled by panic and adrenaline. "Where do we go? I'm not even sure where we are..."

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith shoots Shoor for *13* damage, but he passes his save against poison.
Stool misses Shoor.

Dworic drops a Quaggoth corpse onto the drow corpse in the web to try and break through, but the web holds.
Eldeth dives down below.

Ilvara casts Ray of Sickness on Sarith, dealing *20* damage, poisoning him, and KOing him.
Shoor strikes Stool for *8* and *1* damage.

Ront dives below.

Faedryl is up! Borthan can also act!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Her lips purse as Sarith goes down from the spell. She could feel the strength of the magic from here, and does not want to be on the receiving end of it if she can help it. Nor did she really want to leave Sarith behind, and taking down the big one while they could...she was pulled in a dozen different directions, but when it came down to it she'd keep fighting as best she could. She steps forward, Looking to shove the spider back away from stool into her flames even as she summons another three beads of arcane force. They stream forward, striking Shoor, with what was the last of her potential today. After this she was reliant on cantrips which - while potent, of course - lacked the power she needed to destroy this outpost on their own own. 

Her spells unlashed she darts into the tower, taking cover from another potential beam from the priestess. She'd been right that they were the priority, and perhaps if the battle had swung differently they'd have been able to overwhelm her. Reflections could come later, however. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Shoor bonfire:* (1d20)[*4*]+modifier DexSave vs 14 or take (1d8)[*7*] fire damage. 

*Move:* Step forward, cast her spells, then back into the tower, hopefully out of line of sight of Ilvara.
*Bonus Action:*Telekinetic Shove on spider west of stool if still alive, otherwise Quaggoth? Unclear if Quaggoth would end up in the fire, but either way. (1d20)[*13*]+modifier Strength Save vs. DC14, if into bonfire, (1d20)[*19*]+modifier DexSave vs 14 or take (1d8)[*5*] fire damage. 
*Action:*  Cast _Magic Missile_ on Shoor. Dealing (1d4)[*4*]+3 *3=*21* damage.
*Object Interaction:* Grab Sarith's hand crossbow. Not leaving without it.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan swam on, falling in behind those who got a better jumping position. This wasn't his first time swimming in a pool in the Underdark for his life, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He had done it with an unconscious body under one arm as well, but that had been business. And entirely more profitable than this swim time would be. For Vrek, anyway. That had been bounty number four of his ten for freedom, so Borthan got a hot meal and one tenth of owning his own hide. If he had more time to think, Borthan might have wondered who came out the better in that deal. But for now all he focused on was his breathing, his strokes, and a keen awareness of any acid pseudopod on his skin. When we get to shore, we wait for the others and then you all follow me! I don't know where we are, but I can find somewhere to regroup!

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

Weaving the last of her magic, Faedryl sends it arcing across the bridge in a mage's simplest, most reliably spell. And it does its work. The spider on the ground is hurled up on top of Shoor as the missiles pound him into the ground, both falling onto the scorched earth.

"Get him off of there before it scars!" Ilvara commands one of the two quaggoth, who grabs Shoor and drags him out of the fire, picking him up in a fireman carry. The priestess gazes across the bridge at Faedryl with death in her eyes as the younger drow ducks into cover. "Consider yourself fortunate your mother wants you alive, girl! It's the only thing keeping the skin on your bones!"

The other quaggoth slashes savagely at Stool, leaving torn cuts along the myconid's soft fungal flesh.

*The Pool*

Shuushar reaches shore first, dragging Buppido up with him and checking to ensure the mad dwarf is still breathing - and he is, for better or worse. Not far behind him, Jimjar clambers up and loads his crossbow again, taking a look out into the water. The ooze, however, is a scavenger; a creature of lurking in wait. It crawls slowly over the water, easily outpaced by the more powerful limbs of the swimmers.

*"Wanna bet which one makes it to shore after you? I'd put ten gold on the drow lady,"* Jimjar asks, flicking a look down at Bothan.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Shoor fails his Dex save against Bonfire and retroactively takes *7* damage.
Faedryl shoves Giant Spider into Shoor and the bonfire. It and Shoor split *4* damage between them for *2* each. The spider fails two death saves from the two damage instances, and dies.
Faedryl casts Magic Missile, blasting Shoor three times for *21* damage, KO'ing him. Unfortunately it took all of them to KO, so no failed death saves from the onslaught.

Quaggoth drags Shoor out of the Bonfire.
Quaggoth claws Stool twice for *4* and *5* damage.

Stool is up! Sarith must also make his first death save, at Disadvantage from the Poison.


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Grey Ooze
Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith is utterly oblivious to the situation around him, as he inches ever closer to death. 

*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Successes: 0
Fails: 1

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (8 rds.)
Concentration: - 

Slashes after slashes slice the small fungus to ribbons, revealing white fleshy innards that quickly turn blue. Stool squeals in a displeased manner as it retreats. The valiant myconid druid recoils and tumbles backwards down into the spider's net. 

*Spoiler*
Show

Disengage, then I assume I can move on the spider net normally?

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

Rolling backwards off of the ledge, Stool lands upon his feet and bounces across the webbing like a trampoline. The sticky material clings to his feet, but with his momentum he is able to bounce along onto one of the dead drow, its body serving as a safe little cradle upon which to take a break before the next stretch.

The dwarf grabs Sarith from the bridge and hauls him back into the guard post, taking a position in relative cover and preparing to build up speed for a jump down into the water. Back on the bridge, Faedryl can see Ilvara perform a small cantrip aside to stabilize her boy toy's injuries, before starting to walk across after them. "Where do you intend to run, girl? Into caves and tunnels you don't know, with inferior beings you don't know and cannot trust? You should just give it up."

*The Pool*

Eldeth reaches the shore, followed close behind by an exhausted orc, who can barely drag himself onto the dismal grey beach. The rest wait tensely for their fellow prisoners still above and for their survivalist in the water.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Stool Disengages.

Dworic grabs Sarith and carries him.

Ilvara casts Spare the Dying on Shoor and starts crossing the bridge.

Faedryl and Borthan can act!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Grey Ooze
Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Amnestic

[QUOTE=Amnestic;25046560]
*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Faedryl's as snotty as ever when she pokes her head around from the tower, and sees Ilvara a little too close for comfort. "Oh of course!" she mocks, her voice a clear imitation of Ilvara's own, "Just stay here where you'll be tortured and then executed, that's the much smarter option!" Her right hand musters the somatic components to resummon her flames. No need to worry about the bridge burning anymore. Her voice drops the imitation. No more joke, just scorn and direct derision. There was no need for an ornate threat or insult. "Honestly? You're _really_ stupid." She steps out, finally combining the disparate runes into a single spellcasting circle once more and uttering the sealing word. Flames leap up beneath Ilvara's feet, but Faedryl is already gone, streaming out of the tower to leap over the webs towards the escape with the rest of them. As she plunges down she sees she's not got quite enough distance, and musters one final shove to send her careening over the edge, straight into the chill water below.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Step forward to cast Create Bonfire, retreat, jump from the bridge, Bonus Action Shove herself over the webs, and land in the water.
*Action:* _Create Bonfire_ under Ilvara's feet. (1d20)[*8*]+modifier Dexsave vs 14 or take (1d8)[*5*] fire damage. Also start work on setting the bridge on fire.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan finally makes it to shore, which is where the hard work would start. He dragged the quaggoth onto the pebbly shore, breathing hard from the effort of the swim, and set to work using the 100 ft bundle of rope to make a makeshift harness that would help a bit to ease the strain of carrying the massive furball along the land. Bring Bupido over here, too. It'll be easier to carry the wounded if we rig em up a bit. Maybe even make a rope stretcher to carry em with two people. He set to work measuring, knotting, and cutting the rope. He had plenty of experience hauling unconscious bodies overland, either. Time for the others to learn quicklyOnce we get all the escapees we can on shore, we move. Quickly. And probably for a while. Hope you lot have been on a hike before, because this is about to be one helluva hike.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Survival to make rope stretchers. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxyN...hannel=MCHorry
(1d20+4)[*22*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Shrine*

The priestess recoils as the magical flames catch, flaring up from below and beginning to char and eat at the wood, mundane fire on the cusp of igniting. The priestess is left with flush skin, sweating heat, and an indignant glare as Faedryl takes her leap of faith.

*The Pool*

With a shrug of indifference when nobody is interested in taking his cavalier wager, Jimjar begins helping Borthan assemble a stretcher using part of his coil of lightweight silk rope. As they work, Shuushar looks up at the others preparing to make the leap. "Once the blubst of us is near, I can abwaken the fallen," he assures. Closing his eyes and folding webbed hands over his chest, the kuo-toa seems to enter meditation, soft drifting motes of light blue floating in the air around them.

From above, Faedryl hurls herself over the webs and into the dark water below in a polar plunge.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire, burning Ilvara for *7* damage.
Shuushar readies an action.
Borthan and Jimjar create a rope stretcher.

Stool may act!


*Spoiler: Initiative Order*
Show

Brutus - 21
Duskryn - 21
Buppido - 20

Drow Elites - 20

Jimjar - 19
Borthan - 18
Topsy - 15
Dr. Donk - 15

Grey Ooze
Quaggoth - 12

Nilvae - 11
Derendil - 11
Sarith - 10
Stool - 10

Drow Warriors - 10
Asha - 10

Eldeth - 8
Dworic - 8

Ilvara - 8
Shoor - 8

Ront - 7

Giant Spiders - 6

Turvy - 4
Faedryl - 3
Shuushar - 2

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 13 (bucket armor) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (8 rds.)
Concentration: - 

Stool moves west onto solid ground via the drow warrior's corpse.

*Spoiler*
Show

I halfed my movement to 30 ft./6sq.

----------


## RandomWombat

Hopping along over the webbing, little feet kicking at the air, Stool bounces off of some conveniently placed corpses and falls into the water below with a plop. Climbing out of the cold water feeling pleasantly damp, he arrives at the grey shores of the cave floor.


Faedryl, if she should look back, can see Ilvara turning around to walk back from whence she came. A sight that surely brings a sadistic sense of pleasure, as her flames slowly spread across the bridge.

Then from the guardpost, Dworic backs up a little to get extra speed and leaps diagonally through the air, sailing past the webs and landing in the water alongside the unconscious Sarith, splashing Faedryl with their impact.

Then the light from Shuushar floods out, little sparks like lightningbugs gathering upon their unconscious misfit escapees and awakening them. But even as their eyes flutter open and look around, Derendil and Buppido find themselves stiff, unable to move, or even to open their jaws to speak. It seems that Borthan's stretcher will prove useful after all.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Stool and Dworic jump down safely.

Shuushar uses Channel Divinity to restore 5 hit points to Buppido, Derendil, and Sarith. Buppido and Derendil are still paralyzed and poisoned by spider venom. Sarith is conscious.

Combat ends and we exit Initiative, for now. But time is still not an abundant resource.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Faedryl sloshes onto the shore, shivering and spluttering in a most ungraceful manner. Unpleasant, to say the least, but given that the alternative was torture or the ooze, this is still the best option. She murmurs a short spell that washes over her, dispelling the grime from her by now be-holed clothes. The spell doesn't dry either herself or her clothing, but it does at least ensure that she's not carting around whatever disgusting ooze droppings might be in the water. A fire, and a bath, would have to wait, no matter how much she wanted them. They had precious little time before the outpost came searching, and they weren't in a good state. _She_ wasn't in a good state.

"They'll be on us in moments, we need to leave," she says, tossing the crossbow onto Sarith's slowly rousing form, "I don't want to leave Nilvae, but we can't fight in our current state. Find a place to lay low and rest, then talk about our options." She glances around, trying to pick out the best path they could use. Anything to get away. "Thi-" she stops herself before it comes out of her mouth, correcting the thought. Keep them happy. "Borthan, assist me." There's a beat in the conversation, before she remembers how to ask nicely. "Please."




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 8/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Sarith's eyes flicker open. Not dead yet. A shame. He hadn't even really seen the spell coming. One moment he was awake, the next on the brink of death once more. A mistake. He wakes up to the crossbow he'd held lying on his chest, just in time to see Faedryl turn away. They all could have left him, and they didn't. Slowed them down. Stupid. No, not stupid. A voice of reason wriggles its way into his mind. Keeping you alive while you're useful. So should he stay useful? To what end? He looks at Faedryl again, sopping wet, injured, yet still apparently unperturbed by the events. To see her fall. That's what he wants. He'd help, he'd assist, he'd ingratiate, and when she fails and dies he would have a front row seat to it, to his vindication, that caring is pointless, and people are nothing but tools to each other, to be used up and discarded, like a broken blade.

He struggles to his feet, takes a deep breath, and falls in with the group.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Bort finished the stretcher, giving Jimjar a nod of appreciation at his assistance. Then he puts his back into rolling the meaty quaggoth onto it, knowing that he would be the most difficult to carry unassisted. When Faedryl called him over, he didn't miss that she'd started with an insult, switched to his name, and then added a "please" to the mix. Someone was starting to learn how to be polite. Either that or she was learning to manipulate those she saw as lessers. Either way, it was a welcome change. He didn't like getting reminded of his mixed bloodline, as he didn't like having anything in common with the spider kissers. Someone grab each end of this. I'd do it, but I'm going to be the one looking for food for all you wet rats, and we'll be a lot slower if I have to set this big furball down and pick him up every time I spot some edible moss. He stood up and walked over to the Melad, his face decidedly neutral, moving up beside her. I don't know drow territory all that well. I spent most of my life avoiding it. He lifted his hand and pointed in a seemingly random direction. North is that way, though. You got any idea where we are, fat... Faedryl? The corner of his mouth twitched in a sarcastic direction as he intentionally adjusted away from an insult, just as she had. 




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 5/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil, helpless and silent, fully understands and appreciates his fellow prisoner's efforts to make hauling him easier. He must remember to thank them when this infernal venom had run it's course. It would have been easier and perhaps smarter (in a cruel sense) to leave him for the ooze or the drow jailors.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Her nostrils flare, almost imperceptibly, at Borthan's thinly veiled sass. She was trying. Why wasn't that enough? She bites back a sarcastic comment (even if it was very witty and cutting, in her opinion) and instead opts for simple information. "Vaguely. If north is that way then..." she scrapes her memory for details of an area tread perhaps once in her youth and little else. "this way is probably best," she points into the gloom to the northwest, down a small thin trailpath. It would branch, soon enough, if her memory was correct, and hopefully allow them to lose pursuers. 





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 8/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

She'd chosen correctly, for now at least. If called upon he would offer his honest input - his knowledge of the surroundings was no doubt more intimate than anyone else here - but if they were satisfied to be running around in the dark aimlessly then so be it, he'd not interfere. Almost as if she'd read his mind, he hears her speak up again. "Sarith, if you recall any safe places to rest that won't be checked, let us know." He silently tuts. Did her strange magics extend into his skull as well? 'Us' as well. Not 'me'. He hadn't missed that choice of word. *"As you say,"* is his noncommittal response as he moves up the group to take a more frontline position where his knowledge would be best suited.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + shield) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh (8 rds.)
Concentration: - 

Hobbling after the others, Stool nonetheless seemed glad enough to have escaped with most of his parts still attached. It invades Faedryl's mind with the words. Will not leave, cannot leave friend. But dark elf shaman will be alert now. Need new plan.

The small myconid turns to Borthan. Come come, I will show, you will decide if eating. The tiny string of sticky hyphae extend and try to drag the half-drow hunter along.

*Spoiler*
Show

Survival check of 13, so Stool will follow Borthan and tries to find humanfoods.

----------


## RandomWombat

With everyone gathered at the shore and moving out of reach of the ooze, plans begin to form, with Borthan and Faedryl swiftly puzzling out their location. Ront, despite his massive size, can only barely manage to walk at this point and so Dworic takes hold of one end of the rope stretcher carrying Derendil. Jimjar ends up needing to help Eldeth with the other, but between the two of them they manage.

"I hear the pulley system squeaking," Topsy warns, her keen ears twitching as she glances behind them.

*Spoiler: Survival*
Show

With Borthan pointing out north with uncanny precision, Faedryl is able to figure out roughly where they are. Velkynvelve was not a major outpost by any means, but she is aware of the quadrant of the Underdark in which it is located.

*Spoiler: Southwest*
Show

The direction that the scuffling flight of demons was flying, southwest would take them to Gracklstugh, the duergar territories. However, it is also the direction of the drow lift and the aforementioned demons, making it a risky proposition.


*Spoiler: Northwest*
Show

This passage should lead in the direction of the Darklake, a huge body of water encompassing many tunnel systems. The kuo-toa hold control of ferry services, with the only other naval powers being the dwarves of Gracklstugh and the drow of Menzoberranzan.

There should be offshoot tunnels further that way that could also bring them further west, towards Gracklstugh.


*Spoiler: Northeast*
Show

The last passage leads around the east side of Darklake towards Menzoberranzan and Blingdenstone, the fallen remnants of the svirfneblin capital - which paid the price of opposing the drow. Given the supply problems at the outpost, this path is probably blocked at some point.



With Faedryl's guidance, the group begins making their way northwest into the tunnels, leaving the cavern behind. Along the way, Borthan and Stool have a chance to watch the walls for edible mosses and fungi.

Ront trails at the back of the group, mounting fatigue making the orc's escape a struggle. Near Faedryl, Topsy glances back at him and comments, "The big one is starting to slow us down."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

"That is a problem." Her voice is flat. She doesn't look at Topsy, her eyes are set on the surroundings, looking for side tunnels, gaps in the area, anything that could serve as a place to rest. "What's your solution?" She didn't need to guess, really. 'Leave him behind as bait' was almost certainly the answer, but if it was, she'd have them say it first. She wouldn't put the words in their mouths. If they had qualms about it, hoping the big bad drow would suggest it instead, she wouldn't play that game. She needed all the muscle she could get, slow or otherwise. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Should she see any loose earth she'll use _Mold Earth_ to create blockages behind them in the passage. She'll also be turning a few bits of stone periodically - once every ten minutes or so -  into difficult terrain, to slow pursuit ever so slightly.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + shield) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

No, big strong orc is needed. Large friend is scared, that why he so angry. Help him, respect him, and he will help us. We need rest. We need hide, not run. Stool makes clearly mentally to anyone.

He then turns to Ront. You are strong orc, need to push on a bit. We feed you, you protect us. Deal? The tiny battered mushroom extends his "hand" once again, but the gesture is just a ritual for him. The fact that the myconid even just enters an area where the orc could grab and crush the tiny fungus is the larger shows of trust.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan is near the front of the group scraping some moss off the wall of the passage when he hears the others taking note of Ront's fatigue. Not that many would know that, since Borthan was completely invisible in darkness. At least to those utilizing darkvision. He slowed his pace, letting the others pass by him with the occasional Scuse me. Pardon me. To avoid them running directly into him. He had hated eating dusk mushrooms and ground up minerals for an entire year to get this ability, and he regretted it a bit when he was navigating other people in the dark, but it was inarguably useful for his work. Unless Ront was listening very carefully, he wouldn't notice Borthan sliding up beside him at all. Until Strong Shadow spoke.

We're not going to leave you behind. But that means one of two things- either we stop too early and get caught by our pursuers, or I tie you up in a harness and drag you. Like a baby. A big, weak, useless baby. Are you a baby, Ront? Or are you a big strong orc who can bust his hump for a few more miles?

Borthan would wait for a response, and assuming the orc didn't just give in, he would snake his way around his new companions back towards the front of the group. With his voice seeming to come from nowhere, he spoke so everyone could hear. No one gets left behind. I don't care if I have to push, drag, carry, or curse to keep you moving, but we're all getting out of here. Then he returned to foraging, finding a particularly juicy snail on the wall that was the size of his fist.

----------


## RandomWombat

Twitching her fingers and compulsively cracking her knuckles, Topsy looks back over her shoulder at the lumbering orc. "Obvious solution is to go as fast as we can and leave him to make it or not. Likely what any orc tribe would do," she twitches back to facing ahead. She and her brother both seem to be suffering from some kind of hyperactivity, as Turvy is fidgeting as well.

"If that upsets anyone's delicate sensibilities... I suggest we split up first chance the tunnel splits. Force them to decide between two trails. Understaffed now. Won't be able to follow both," the other twin perks up and cuts in, finishing for his sister. Though whether it's exactly what she had isn't clear, she doesn't correct or undermine his idea.


As they make their way, Faedryl leaves scattered stone and mounds of loose earth behind them, an annoying, petty interference. It would have slowed them down as much as the presumed pursuers - were they not already moving more slowly to allow Ront to keep up.

The orc's thoughts are light, floaty and sleepy as they drift over the psychic spores to Stool. *I ain't scared,* he denies immediately. He blinks, his eyes almost failing to force themselves open as he staggers forward, leaning ahead to keep momentum up. In spite of his denial, he jumps a little when Borthan appears next to him. *"Ngh, Not baby. Keep going. Keep..."* his voice fades as he starts to run out of breath, focusing it on keeping himself going just as he said. It's clear the orc has no intention of stopping or giving in, but he's certainly not going to be going any faster without help.

*"This fellow isn't exactly featherweight either, but we're not complaining,"* Jimjar chips in brightly, still helping the dwarves haul Derendil along. The poison is slowly beginning to fade, but right now all the quaggoth can manage is moving his arms a bit, enough to stretch his fingers or scratch himself, maybe even get out a few words. It's like his skin is made of lead.

Shuushar is likewise carrying Buppido on his back, no easy feat even with the mad dwarf's size. Buppido's eyes are darting around watchfully at the shadows around them even as his body remains inert.


Eventually, they do come upon a branch in the path. It's too early for the path to split west towards Gracklstugh, Faedryl knows. So both branches ought to lead to somewhere along the shore of the Darklake.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + shield) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

We take short rest. Catch breath, then orc rides lizard-stool. If I can carry fishman, I can carry orc.  Stool states.Plus we get back energy, need for emergency fight.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

"By my estimate," her voice is measured as she speaks, "we killed roughly half of the outpost's guards and quaggoths, meaning they're staffed by perhaps a dozen and a half, plus the two priestesses. Their armoury is cut off, and they have at least one injured individual needing tending." The gnome had got her taking now. What was just mental calculations were now being given voice. "They can't leave the outpost unattended. I expect at least one priestess will stay behind, plus perhaps half of their remaining quaggoths and drow, to begin repairs and damage assessment. Which means we're being pursued by one priestess at most, plus approximately six to ten others, perhaps with a few giant spiders. Minimum pursuing force is therefore seven individuals, and a maximum estimate of fourteen or so, once spiders are included." She was talking a lot to get to her eventual point. "We number thirteen in total, but two are out of action and almost all of us are injured, exhausted, or both. Together, we _maybe_ outnumber them. Separate, we're outnumbered, guaranteed. If we split, half of us *will* die. Stay together, we likely outnumber them still, have a chance of picking a fight on our terms, and probably all come out alive." Jimjar was the gambling one. The twins perhaps less so. Perhaps their cowardice would make them see the logic of strength in numbers. "We come to a split, I can magic up the impression that we did separate, without needing to do so." It would mean she couldn't slow terrain behind them anymore, but it was worth it if it got the pursuers to follow an entire separate branch and leave them alone. 

"We can't rest now." Even if she desperately wanted one herself. That extra spells would be crucial. "We need to find someplace we can conceal, or we'll be caught unprepared."

When she reaches the intersection, her hesitation is nonexistent. No sense worrying about which direction they pick when she doesn't know either's final destination. "We go right." Her decision is snappy, confident and assured, despite her lack of knowledge. When in doubt go with your gut instinct, and if it doesn't pay off, so be it. Deal with that if it happens. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Assuming they all _do_ follow Faedryl, she casts Mold Earth on the left branch, creating patterns of scraped boots and dirt, as if they'd taken that path as well.

----------


## RandomWombat

From the looks on the faces of the two gnomes, they seem to be running calculations in their heads. Gauging the odds of survival staying with the group for strength, or gambling that they will vanish in the group that is not chased. Neither twin spares the other so much as a glance or a signal, at least none that Faedryl can detect.

"Fine. This seems like a decent plan," Topsy at last voices her approval, following Faedryl while she masks their travel by creating false tracks. With the drow likely close on their tail, no one seems eager to take Stool's suggestion to stop and rest just yet.

Further now from the established supply routes of the drow, the road-tunnels become narrower and ill maintained. Sporadically, small crevices and tunnels branch off. From from Borthan is able to snag a few small cave-dwelling lizards for extra protein, creatures lurking in the dark not as predators but to avoid them. In the same crevice, Borthan finds what attracted the small critter there: a barrelstalk mushroom, a large barrel-like fungus that absorbs moisture from its surroundings and stores it inside succulent flesh. Not unlike a cactus, but with the added benefit of no prickles. There is no means to tap the fungus and store water for later, but a stab of a dagger allows each member of the motley crew to drink from it and quench their thirst, before Borthan carves up the flesh for them to eat as they travel.

The group ends up having to fall into a column formation - moving two-by-two and, occasionally, single file. Often through pitch darkness, and over terrain that is rough and cracked, even without Faedryl's magical assistance. There are no ideal places to conceal themselves as a whole here in the cramped paths, but the Underdark denizens among them are well aware that these tunnels can carry on for days. And they definitely do not have the energy to walk for days without cease.

Presently in a passage where they can move two by two, the group's travels are lit in eerie shades of blue by inedible, bio-luminescent fungi that grow in patches along the walls. The damn air and walls, and the soft white noise of water ahead, announce that they are nearing a stream or river. And soon the ones at the fore of the group see the dark, pure running water twenty feet below a cliff ahead. The broad crevice is wide and far, stretching either direction into the darkness. In fact, _they_ are the crevice in the wall of a much larger cavern here. Eerily giving them a feeling of switching places with the lizard wrapped in bloody cloth in Borthan's grip. 

Stretching across the underground river is a bridge of wood and rope, hanging between their tunnel and another on the opposite side.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Please establish two marching orders: one single file, and one two by two.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Times like this she wished her familiar was still available, and not temporarily banished from reality. Ryld'aer would have served as an admirable scout, and chances were few underdark denizens would care to attack every bat that flapped their way. It didn't serve her anything to worry about what _might_ have been, she needed to focus on what was. Including this bridge. It would occur to them all no doubt - the question of if it could hold them. Especially the larger ones like Bort, or those carrying another person. They had little in the way of choice - make a stand here, attempt a crossing, or trust the water. If she was right the current would carry them to Darklake, and wash away any trail that they had. It would also carry them potentially far from her spellbook, and there was no guarantee the water was any safer than the drow patrol on their trail. "We need to be careful crossing," she says, trying to guess - or remember - how strong these structures usually were. "An errant step and you're gone."



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


(1d20+4)[*7*] Intelligence check to see how sturdy the bridge is? Maybe get an extra +2 if I can go Perception (Intelligence)? :D

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan scans the bridge, trying to spot any damage or weakness that he can make out. Safe thing to do would be to cross one at a time, with each person putting on a harness, making their way across, taking off the harness, and then we all drag it back for the next person. That way we only put one person's weight on it. That said, that method would also be slower than death. We might lose time on our pursuers, or, worse yet, they may catch up to us. He looks to the others to get their opinion on how to cross. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rolled a 21 in the discord for survival or perception to see what kind of weight this bridge can hold.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + shield) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

Maybe cross quickly, then cut bridge? the small fungus quickly adds. Makes harder to help pale elf.

----------


## RandomWombat

"I agree with the mushroom. Cutting the bridge would allow us to take a rest without the drow getting to us, unless they sprout wings."

"Or... we could rest on the other side and..." Turvy is interrupted with a squeak as his sister elbows him. "Speak up." "Er, right. Someone could be ready to cut it, if they try to cross? That way we don't waste the bridge... if we don't have to."

*"Maybe they already went the wrong way!"* it's clear from the sparkle on Jimjar's eyes as he peers over the group that he's looking for anyone who might want to make a wager on that.

Derendil and Buppido are beginning to get more movement back in their limbs. It seems the spider venom will soon clear out of their system, and they are able to talk now, though Buppido has nothing to say on the matter of the bridge. The dwarves are likewise guarded and silent, and Ront is too tired to care what the plan is. 

*Spoiler: Perception*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

The bridge looks sturdy. It's been maintained, probably by the nearby outpost.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

These kinds of bridges are able to handle enough weight that they should be fine as long as they spread out. Whoever is carrying the stretcher will be the most strain on the bridge, and should probably go across on their own.


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

Though it has been maintained, there is one board on the bridge near this side that looks like it needs to be replaced, the wood has started to develop cracks that are hard to notice without a keen eye. If someone heavy stepped on it, it might snap.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Without a word, Borthan climbs onto the bridge. He moves forward with confidence that the bridge is sound, moving up to one particular board and kneeling down before it. Drawing Kronyn's shortsword, he admires the craftsmanship for a few seconds before turning the weapon and bringing it down like a hammer, pommel first. He did this with a smile, gleaning some small joy from using his tormentor's prize weapon as a bludgeoning tool. It doesn't take much effort to smash through the weakened board, sending the pieces falling down into the water before. Then he realizes the problem with their marching order. With him invisible, if he moved in formation with the others people would be CONSTANTLY bumping into him. Don't step there. 'Taint safe. Then he took a large step over the missing board and took point, meaning to cross the bridge. Even weakened as he was, it made the most sense to him. Besides, he'd hardly be missed with no one being able to see him.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 5/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil strained against the rapidly faltering venom in his system, finally finding himself able to speak, with effort. Without thinking about it he begins to speak in elven, each word requiring a bit more effort than normal. I am in your debt. All of you. When I am returned to my true form and my nobility is restored, I will gift each of you a boon for saving my life. Then, realizing again what a eclectic group he was travelling in, he switches to his pathetic understanding of undercommon. Thank all of you for not leaving me behind. Borthan, part way across the bridge, snorts and barks back Your boon and a handful of this moss and I'll have a clean bum and nothing more. No one gets left behind.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

The invisible voice of Borthan is offputting, but at least he seems to know more about the bridge than she grasped. "One at a time then, though the smaller ones can probably group up." She follows behind the twins, with as much urgency as is safe to do so.

----------


## RandomWombat

A few at a time, spread out so as not to strain the rope overmuch, the group crosses over the underground river. With Borthan unveiling the unsafe board, there is now a small gap in the bridge, but nothing they can't avoid going carefully. As luck would have it, the path opens up into a wider area at the other end, about thirty feet in diameter. Water trickles down along the walls in thin trails, running through a dug out trough near this end of the bridge and into the stream. The damp environment has allowed a variety of fungus to grow along the walls and floor, a veritable garden of decay that gives Stool a nostalgic feeling of home.

To the left of where they came another tunnel continues from the chamber. Next to that tunnel entrance are a pair of dwarves, two dwarven men with blond hair and a brotherly resemblance. They are dressed in slave rags and carrying crude axes made out of animal bones and sharp stones, lashed together with rope.

Seeing Faedryl and the gnomes appear first (Borthan invisible to them), the two dwarves scramble to their feet from where they were making a meal of a few of the fungi, brandishing their axes with panic in their eyes. They speak to one another in what Borthan recognizes as the Shield Dwarves' Dwarvish dialect. "Blast, they've found us!" "Thought the gnomes and drow were enemies?" "Prob'ly bounty hunters I'd bet!"

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + shield) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

Stool squeals in delight at the sight of the different fungi. He enjoys the life brought to this decaying mess, and anyone who can see the small myconid would call him crazy. A tad crazier than the presence of a sentient fungus with a bucket on its 'head' already is. Stool swishes around and about, tasting various different kinds of mold, fungus, dead tissue and similar. A veritable but basic hum exudes from the myconid, quickly shifting into a higher pitch, unheard but felt. 

Faedryl is the first one to 'hear' his delight in her mind. The song of Psilofyr is alive in this cave. Stool tastes all the mold, Stool becomes the mold. Jumping over to Borthan, he adds without explanation of the first bit. Good place for rest. If dwarf friends allow!

Jumping in front of the group happily, the naive myconid nonetheless sees the brandished weapons and is reminded of his damages. He shudders and retreats. New friends! Would not understand mental message. Please talk to them. They need help, we need help. Help, help. Stool can translate with spores. Stool trails off for anyone who wants to 'listen'.

With a bit less confidence, Stool ultimatively decides to stand aside and provide mental translation, but prepares for the worst.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

While she doesn't grasp the dwarf's exact wording, between their actions, their clothes and Stool's mental penetration she understands the situation well enough. "We mean you no harm," she says in Common, holding up her empty hands to show she's not holding weapons - even if the rest of them are. "We're escaped prisoners, just looking for a place to rest. We've tired, injured, and some of us can't walk," she gestures behind her to the ones bringing up the rear - exhausted Bort, Derendil and Buppido still roped onto the backs of the others, and the two dwarves who might be seen as more friendly than she would. "There's room enough for us all here, we don't need to come to blows."



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Persuasion(?): (1d20+1)[*18*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

A voice comes from the darkness to the side of the main group. Not bounty hunters. Not today at least. He speaks in common for now, thinking that the dueregar tongue may make things worse. There's no profit in splitting a bounty this many ways. And no profit in hauling wounded when corpses usually pay just as well, with half the trouble. Like the drow said, we're just passing through, looking for a place to rest up. No threat to you and yours. Knowing himself to be a shoddy diplomat at best, he uses his words to support Faedryl's, then goes silent. If there was going to be a fight here, he would do his best to make it quick. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Providing advantage to Faedryl.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + shield) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

Unable to add anything worthwhile, Stool just starts to 'sing' in a high pitched tone almost unable to hear. He decides to leave the confrontation and joins Shuushar in tending to the wounded. How is everyone? Stool likes this cave. Stool thinks we should pause. He puts up a brave front, but Shuushar can hear a bit of fear and sadness at the damage the dark elves did.

----------


## RandomWombat

Faedryl's words give the dwarves pause, especially once the eclectic band files in behind her, and Shuushar and Stool begin establishing a small triage in a corner of the fungal cave. Buppido and Derendil can nearly move on their own again, able to sit up and take a drink of water mostly unaided.

The dwarves further relax at the sight of Dworic and Eldeth, who greet them kindly. 

"Grn." The older of the two dwarf brothers grunts, slowly lowering his improvised axe to slide it back into the loop of his rough rope drawstring. "What you do to get locked up?" he asks, warily.

"Long as we keep our distance..." the younger says, taking a seat again, up against the far wall from their motley menagerie. As if either of the dwarves stood much threat against their numbers and skill.


At the triage, Shuushar is beginning to clean and re-bandage some of the injured using strips of cloth torn form his ragged prison shirt, which he doesn't seem to care to miss. The fishman smiles, the edges of his broad lips turning upward as Stool's mind contacts the smooth, calm presence of his own. _I am gladdened that so many of us survived the attempt. And with luck we may yet rescue our missing friend,_ he responds through the telepathic link. Reaching out a hand, he ushers Stool closer. _Can you help me to clean and disinfect the wounds, Stool?_ He asks, while using a rag to clean some of the refuse off of Stool's surface for sanitary purposes.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + shield) HP: 5/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

Seeing the refuse bothering Shuushar, Stool does the most myconid thing to do in this. A string of hyphae extends from his "mouth", moistening up his whole body, removing and taking in the dirt, leaving only slimy, yet "clean" surface. He then proceeds to aid with his damp arm extrusions, probably resulting a mix of relaxing coolness and discomforting moisture for the patients.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

Faedryl takes a seat a fair distance away, pleased for the rest, but it wouldn't last. Time marches on unabated. They could, perhaps, rest here for a full day. It had a water source, _probably_ edible fungus, and with only two entrances it was defensible enough if it came to blows. If the drow came from up behind they could sever the bridge and they'd be fine. Ideally they'd take out a few of them now, save them returning and fortifying the outpost further.  Whittling down their numbers bit by bit. They couldn't spend too much time though, if the road was cleared they'd lose any chance of getting back her spellbook - and rescuing Nilvae, of course. She doesn't respond to the slave's question. She doesn't even hear it. She's lost in thought of possibilities and eventualities. Hypothetical scenarios of what _might_ be has cut her off from what currently _is_.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 8/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

Having finally caught up with the rest from his position at the back of the group Sarith drops to the ground a little faster than desired, banging his knee on the stone. A sharp pang of pain a reminder that he was still alive, for better or worse. His brushes with death hadn't yet brought his end. When the new slave asks his question, Sarith considers staying silent. Why should they have to share? What purpose did it serve? Would they be enriched by speaking their crimes, or by hearing them in turn? Nothing would change for the knowledge gained, just as nothing would change about his end. It would come all the same. He sighs. It seemed the ever-talkative Faedryl would not respond, and it would cause more problems if both the drow stayed quiet, so he supposes it's up to him to speak up. *"I killed another drow in cold blood,"* is his short, to the point answer to the question. His face says he doesn't wish to elaborate much further, but if this small truth bought their silence so he could recover peacefully it would be worth it.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

The dwarf maintains eye contact with Sarith, defiant for a slave as he tries to pick apart some deeper meaning behind the drow's hollow words. But before the questioning can continue, Dworic and Eldeth pull the slaves aside to do some scouting ahead.

It turns out their... comparatively comfy little cavern is part of a small network, with a few small fresh water springs and several more chambers of verdant decay. Taking use of the extra room, the escapees begin to spread out and find their own space.

The dwarves place a watch at the 'back exit,' leaving the drow to watch the bridge.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Feel free to interact with anyone if you wish while I handle a little side scene...


*The Outpost*

It is dark, and familiar. Nilvae begins to come to silently in the dingy cell, its anti-magic feeling clammy and oppressive around her. Across the chamber is a dark arachnid form, bound up in ropes.

Blink.

A donkey stands from the floor, the ropes falling away from its limbs. The poor creature brays anxiously, clacking over to the door and then pacing back, looking for a way out.

Blink.

Looming. The dark shape standing over Nilvae, with a hiss and a clacking of mandibles. The tips of two legs press themselves against Nilvae's face, stretching the edges of her one of eyes as if trying to hold it open, but-

Blink.

Stamping hooves clacking next to her face quickly dispel any remaining haze around her consciousness, her bizarre companion continuing to move back and forth through the cell. The warlock has a loop of rope binding her arms behind her back, and another loop around her legs.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool happily attends everyone and tries to form a somewhat good relationship. Being free of pride, he happily serves others and helps them where he can, but focusses on Shuushar's ministrations to the injured. Fatigue claims him eventually, but not before meandering towards Faedryl and Borthan respectively.

*Faedryl:*
Drow shaman? it echoes in her mind.  You are kind. Wanting to help outside elf. Why do? Your kind is egoistic. They fear the dark, they hate the work. But they do love to copulate. But not for offsprings. Can you explain? You can feel the glee of a small child's innocence in your mind.

*Borthan:*

Where you from? Why do you seek drow? Have family here? Why does your family hate us? Stool tries to help the drow keep watch while he asks. And why can I smell you better than see you? Want me to focus on survival or fighting for tomorrow? Can you find enough food always?

*Spoiler*
Show

slightly OOC: I can prep Create Water, Purify Food and Drink, but if Borthan feels confident my combat options are far more flexible.





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Was this the afterlife? Nilvae tried to raise her head, but was unable to. She rolled to her side, the uncomfortable chill of near-death infusing her body yet again. The warmth; no absence of any sensation of temperature was gone. It gave way to the clammy cold of the cell, muted absence of the magical network infusing all of Faerun.

No, this was not death. This was not the Feywild, nor Kelemvor's wall of the faithless. This was mortal's hell, Faerun's underdark. Nilvae groaned and tried to adjust her eyes to the dark. Her only friend in the dark skittered, then trotted towards her. Licking her face, trying to pull her up in a worried manner. The half-elf smiled, expecting to understand the donkey. But the cell prevented this. She could still try. No worry, my friend. I'm awake.  She tries to sit up and look around. Deep down, the urge to cackle at her own idiocy started rising, but curiosity fought it back for now.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 13/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Escape*

The tiny child-voice uttering the word _copulate_ was torture enough, but she now had to answer the mushroom. To play nice. "I doubt what you know of 'my kind' could fill a page," she shoots back sardonically. She wasn't unique in her disapproval of drow society writ large. Her dead allies before her capture were proof well enough of that. There'd be others, hiding, keeping quiet, but she doubts that they're the majority kept suppressed by tradition. They were a minority, in truth, and changing that would require no small amount of effort and power - of both the physical and oratorical varieties. "Nilvae was captured helping the escape. It's only correct that we pay the effort back in kind. And we will get to kill our captors as an added bonus. Whether you call that 'nice' is up to you." She leaves out her spellbook. Faedryl is smart enough not to appear totally self-centred. "What about you? Shouldn't you be rushing back to your...field or grove or plantation or whatever it is myconids live in?" She doesn't really care what reasons Stool has for staying, just that they continue to contribute to their efforts against the outpost for a while longer.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 8/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Exhaustion (1)
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Escape*

It seemed to work, or perhaps the dwarves simply opted to move on without further confrontation, and Sarith was left mercifully alone. Unless otherwise bothered, he props himself up against a wall and settles himself into a trance.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan remains silent when the topic of crimes comes up. As far as he was concerned his only sin was trusting Drow to keep a square deal. He spends his time portioning the food he's managed to scavenge, trying to keep all sizes fair. He gets himself a long, cool drink of water, wishing they had something to store it in, takes the time to personally hand each person their raw and rustic meal, and then settles down to rest next to the bridge, keeping a vigil for their pursuers. His thoughts went to Nilvae, and he promised himself again that he would get that crazy woman out of that prison, even if it killed him.

Then the myconid- Stool, it called itself- approached and started asking questions. Uncomfortable questions at that. Questions Bort had stopped asking himself a long time ago, when the pains of child slavery gave away to the agonies of of an adolescence in chains. He took a big bite of lizard before responding, taking a good amount of time to chew the gamey meat. I'm from nowhere. Raised in a dueregar hold, but that was never home. Closest thing I've got is a small shack on a mountainside on the surface, and that's really just a place to sleep. I wander, Stool. I've got no family, and if you had teeth I'd knock em out for bringing up that I'm related to the drow. He reached out and gave the mushroom a soft punch in what approximated for a shoulder. I did a job for the evil bastards, nothing more. And they paid me with a cell. As far as the smell goes, maybe I should have spent more time in the pool. I'm sure that ooze could have given me a good scouring. You can't see me because since I was small like you I've been preparing to be a hunter. I ate dusk mushrooms and strange minerals for a full year to become invisible to darkvision. Makes it easier to sneak up on people. Easier to catch and kill them. When the topic changed to preparing spells, Borthan waved his hand dismissively. If there's food to find, I'll find it. You keep your magic ready to kill dark elf bastards. Maybe once we rescue Nilvae we can start worrying more about survival. Now leave me alone, kid. Time to sleep. I'll have a fresh meal for you in the morning, assuming survival rations keep me regular. Food for everyone, no matter the diet.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 5/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil also keeps quiet when probed about what got him imprisoned. He didn't want to ruminate on it. To be honest, he had trouble remembering it all. But what he did know was that as disgusting as raw cave lizard was, he would eagerly finish his share. He was famished.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

Everyone settles in, sharing a meal of cave lizard - most don't mind eating raw, when weighed against going hungry. Turvy attempts to fry his with a Shocking Grasp spell, only managing to char the meat and leave himself a crunchy, chewy meal to push through. No doubt, he'd thought the idea ingenious at the time.

*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

When the drow settles in to trace, he feels his body̡̥̬͚̝̳ͅ begin tō͇͈̩̃̅̎͜͠ slip into a trou͖̯̯͕̘͑̽́͡bled state of mind. Again stra͈͈͎̹̻͌̾͒ͦͩ̈́nge visions plague him, r͛̓ͫ̀̃̑ͯ̋̎ͯ̚oiling across his vision, dre̚amͩ̒͊͏͍̗̳͈s that should not be. Unlḭ̟͕ͩ̂ͅke before, however, these feel more real. More visceral. Aches, sen̲̦̬̑̓̒sations of something crawling beneath the surface̱̹̳͈̪͗ͬ̃̓̌̇ͅͅ of his skin. Like a thousand tiny serpenţ͎̼s.

Feeling like h̴̛e҉͡ is out of his body̮̯͕̮̳͡, he looks down. He ç̢a̶͢͡ǹ̸͘ see glowing orange lines stretching across his wounds, pulling them together. It is n͇̼ǫ̥̝͙̥̦t̶͎ an unpleasant sensation, it is like h̫̗̜̞͆͗ͦ̌͗̆͜͟a̛̱̬͍̰̯͇ͣͬ̑͆̀̀v͇̝̰̟̟̟͙ͥͦ̏ͪ̉̍ing a warm cloth presse͖͙̦͉͈͈͞d against his body̜̹̭͠.

Then, he snaps o͏̥͎u̸̎̐̊t of it and awakens after his completed trance.


*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Sarith has gained the ability *Crawling Flesh*, which allows him to use a reaction to regenerate 1d8+Con Mod hit points. *But at what cost?*


*Spoiler: Perception: Faedryl, Borthan, Stool*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

Sarith is twitching and whimpering in his trace.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

He seems remarkably fine, better each time they look at him. His wounds are healing, without so much as a scar.


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

Barely perceptible, if one watches closely, tiny thread-like lines stretch across any cuts or gashes and pull the flesh back together. It is no slow process of hours, either - these small, interspersed episodes of sudden healing.



Not long after Sarith has awakened, when most of the camp is asleep and the two drow are about to change shifts, Borthan and Faedryl spot something moving towards them through the caves, and onto the bridge. Shambling shapes with weapons loosely gripped in their hands, wounds gaping and viscera still hanging out from their untimely death mere hours ago. Undead drow marching towards them, rasping and gurgling.

There are at least four that they can detect so far.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Borthan, Faedryl and Sarith are awake. Stool can be as well, if he wishes. Sarith has completed his long rest. The others can apply a short rest.

Everyone else is asleep and in the midst of their long rest.


*The Outpost*

Finding the cell empty save for herself and the timeshare donkey-spider, Nilvae doesn't see any food left for them. Her disguise has since worn off, giving her some idea of how long it's been - a minimum, if nothing else. Casting an eye over the cell passes by her companion a few times. The spider half seems to be working on something, a loop of silk woven between episodes of panicked equine as long or as brief as Nilvae's ability not to blink, and not to let her attention span wander.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

The last strip of Borthan's prison shirt, already torn previously for bandages, bindle, and bindings, covers up the wound on his bicep, red blurring the dull fabric with crimson stripes. Now all there is between his chain shirt and his body is a thin plate of leather. But that was ok. He could get more shirts a lot easier than he could get more blood. He looks up when Faedryl approaches, sitting next to a small pile of his meager belongings he'd set down so the others could find him. He also noted that the drips of blood he'd left across the cavern floor eventually became visible to his darkvision. That was something to remember. You done doing... whatever it is elves do when they sit with their eyes closed for four or five hours? Good. I could sleep for a week, but we ain't got the time. Once everyone has had a chance to close their eyes for a bit we start making the plan to go back and get Nilvae and our gear. In that order, if possible. 

Some time later, he saw Faedryl's eyes flick towards the bridge and cast his own eyes in that direction as well. It took a few seconds for what had caught her attention to come into his shorter range of darkvision, but when it did he kipped up from his sitting position and lifted his blades from the ground, both of them going from visible to invisible in a split second. Either the priestess is very stupid or they'll be live soldiers behind the zombies. Drow sometimes send em out like hunting lizards to find the prey and pin em down for the real troops to destroy. While speaking, Borthan was looping his pilfered rope around the central cable of the bridge, tying a formidable knot so it would be easier to restore the bridge if they needed to cross it again. He looked in her direction before adding apologetically Look at fool me, telling a drow spell caster drow spell caster tactics. Either way, you get back and wake up the others. I'll hold the bridge until the last second, cut it down and send as many of them into the drink as I can. Scoot. There's a small chance I might screw this up and we have a real fight on our hands.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

"I have a plan, or the beginnings of one at least."  She confirms. Whether the rest of them would go for the plan was another matter. The twins especially were a problem. How exactly she would convince cowards to go _back_ to their one-time prison she wasn't yet sure, but one thing at a time, and she had plenty of the night to worry about it.

When the undead appear in her eyeline she's not particularly surprised. That might explain how they got so much distance ahead of the other drow. Shuffling undead weren't as fast as the living, and the delay had bought them valuable rest time. "Try to get the priestess talking. They probably sent the apprentice instead of Ilvarra. While I don't think we'll be able to convince her to switch sides, we could get her to stab her 'mistress' in the back for us." Backstabbing was practically a national pass time for the drow after all, and she had no reason to believe the outpost occupants were any different. With her advice offered, she moves back into the cavern to rouse the others, nudging them awake with her mage hand as she goes. She has no need to touch them directly, nor get close and risk a potential sudden strike from someone still half asleep. Least of all Sarith, who is already awake. "Recovered? Good. Undead are on the bridge, probably the guards we killed in our escape. Help Borthan with the defence." The instructions are, as ever, to the point, and she's already moved on to awaken others.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

His skin is crawling as he awakens from his trance, as if he is engulfed in and made up of innumerable tiny writhing tentacles each pushing and pulling in a different direction, as if he's not even drow anymore, but something else wearing the facsimile of a drow's features. So lost in his thoughts of this is that he barely hears Faedryl's instructions, catching merely the last words  "-p Borthan with the defence." Borthan. She deigned to name him properly, as if he were equal. She had moved away before he could retort, so lacking any other options he does as he's bid - moving towards the bridge with handcrossbow in hand, spotting the undead for the first time. He attempts to recognise any faces, pick out features through the rot.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

*Faedryl:*
Other dark elf kidnapped me. Stool want to return. But cannot leave friends. Am tiny. Chances to return are slim. Want to become large, have children. Chances better in group, in swarm. he says as he rips out a few parts of his "flesh" turned blue. Slimy mold grows back, in the usual grey color, more moist now. Faedryl feels reminded of small wet infants right after their birth.

*Borthan:*

Stool hums with glee. Is good, is great. Your kind is very picky with food. Needs clean food, needs clean water. Stool can have leftovers.



*After the rest with Sarith*:
The small myconid leans over Sarith's bed stead. A voice in his mind appears. It is less grating but nonetheless as confusing, until he hears the childish ring of Stool: Looks like blessing of Psilofyr. Maybe is curse and blessing? Maybe not that. Then, for the first time in recent memory, Stool's "voice" turns more sinister, as dark as a child voice can get. If you continue to help, no one has to know.




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

As soon as the half-elf can steady her mind, and stay awake, she rolls to the side of the cell and tries to sit up against a wall.  Oh Donk, what are you doing? she whispers, confident her companion might even know what she is saying without the interference of Puck. I think it is too much to ask you where Muttley is, huh? The sadness in her voice couldn't betray her feelings, and she knew at worst the dog had been eaten, at best he would be tortured by those vile drow spiders. 

She lamented her late fianceé's disappearance. Oh Lambert. I only I had married you. I would have had children with you, on your boring farm, with your boring animals. Someone ever told you how BORING it is to talk to chicken?  she shouts at no one in particular. The damn things are as thick as lizards, and only half as relaxed. You're different, Donk. She tries to approach the spider-donkey, in hopes at least his fur could provide some comfort amidst all of this. Her ramblings could not betray her feelings. She felt lonely, she feared for her life. With no one around, she started crying, and loudly.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

Thinking quickly, Borthan ties another rope around their end of the bridge, that there may be a chance to salvage it should it collapse. The undead are not advancing swiftly, giving them ample time to act and prepare.

After a few steps around the corner, Faedryl can see Jimjar lying down beside the water of the first spring, a stupid content smile on his face. Not far past him, the two twins are resting in an alcove. The orc, Ront, is lying in a heap in another alcove on the opposite side of Jimjar.

*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Sarith - 18
Borthan - 15
Stool - 11
Faedryl - 4
Zombies - -1

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

With the stone and water, and distance, from the attackers she doesn't need to worry much about keeping her voice down. Not that she shouts, mind you, but she doesn't whisper as she calls to Jimjar. "Wake up, and then wake everyone else up. Outpost guards have found us. We might just drop the bridge, but if they have some way over the gap we need everyone awake."  She doesn't need to gesture to summon the invisible manifestation of her will beside the slumbering orc, but it nevertheless manifests unseen and unheard. She definitely wasn't getting close to him when he wakes. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


*Action:* Summon Mage Hand beside Ront. Turns out I can't use it on the same turn I cast it? The more you know.
*Move:* Further into the cave. 





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

He wouldn't wait for them to take closer. Taking a moment to muffle his steps, he prowls forwards with crossbow in hand, loosing a bolt over Borthan's shoulder at the closest undead before diving back into cover.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action - Hide (1d20+6)[*13*]
*Move:* Out to behind Borthan, shoot hand crossbow, move back.
*Action:* *Attack* (1d20+8)[*24*] Disadvantage due to range if he sucks at hiding: (1d20+8)[*17*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*8*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan holds position, invisible, waiting for as many of the zombies to get on the bridge as possible. He squats directly in front of the bridge, blocking anyone from passing over, with both blades in hand. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Holding action till we get a bunch of zombies on the bridge. Once it is loaded up, attack and bonus attack to cut the supporting ropes.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

Sarith's bolt sinks into the zombie's chest, the corpse continuing forwards until it trips and stumbles over the missing board. It takes some time for it to regain its stance, as the others behind it continue to march. Once they've all moved upon the bridge, Borthan slashes the ropes on either side of him with his blades, sending their end of the bridge plummeting down - only to stop, as his rope catches it before it dips into the water.

The undead begin to clumsily tumble down the slant of the bridge in a ball of flailing limbs, and hungry growls. All the way down into the river below, where they are swept away on the current.

In the tunnel beyond, neither Borthan nor Sarith can see signs of more drow or undead behind these few.

*Spoiler: Perception DC 12*
Show

There is, however, a trail of fetid blood and gore trailing back down the path.

*Spoiler: Know Arcana DC 10*
Show

Zombies often have poor eyesight, tracking by hearing and by smell. Their sense of smell is keener than it was in life, but only to certain things like blood and rot. It could be the drow sent them ahead like bloodhounds, to follow the trail of the injured and leave a much easier to follow trail behind.




Eyes blinking open as if he'd only been dozing, Jimjar spins around and kips up to his feet, stretching in a smooth motion. *"Yes'm, Jimjar is awake,"* the gnome reports with a wide grin. He starts strolling over to his kin to wake them, while Faedryl's hand lingers above Ront.

*The Outpost*

Blink.

The donkey calms as Nilvae's hands run along its mane, leaning in to bury her face in the creature and cry out her hopelessness. Against her face, the soft fur of the donkey becomes the smooth, cool hide of the spider, which reaches up and around her face. Nilvae soon finds herself wearing a silken blindfold - preventing further transformation from the arachnid form.

Two chitinous legs press down on Nilvae's shoulders, urging her to sit or lie down. What exactly the spider is planning isn't clear, but there is an intelligence in its actions.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

*"Well, that works,"* Sarith mutters, peering past the gloom. He can see the gore they've left in their wake. An easy trail to follow for anyone with working nostrils even if they're blind in the dark down here. *"Can you do it more than once?"* he asks the invisible man. If it worked a second time that would surely be something, though he expects the less undead of their pursuers wouldn't be so easily dispatched.




*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

She hears the plop-plop-plop of zombies hitting the water, and can guess well enough what it means. There wasn't any guarantee that it was the only thing they had to worry about, and she wasn't about to leave herself unprepared. Gently, she uses her invisible mage hand to shake Ront awake, before moving further into the cavern past the twins - leaving them to Jimjar - to awake the rest of them.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

They'd have to be pretty stupid. Anyone with eyes could tell the bridge is damaged now, and the trail of gore stops on the bridge. But hey, while I never count on my enemies to be stupid, I also never fail to take advantage if they are. Borthan sets to work repairing the bridge to the best of his ability, using strong knots to retie the supports. It was a shame to damage the bridge, especially after it had served them so well. Someone built this with good intentions, and he wouldn't let something as rare as good intentions in the Underdark go to waste if he had a say. I'm bushed and I need to sleep. You want to watch the bridge for a while, Sarith? You're not invisible, but you're about the closest we'll get besides me, I imagine.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool gleefully gurgles as he sees the vile zombies being washed away. The tiny myconid was no stranger to rot and death, but he preferred for nature to eat the dead, not embrace it. He knew a few of Psilofyr's scions preferred to use humanoid intruders as their vessels to venture forth into the underdark, but if the fungal race would wanted to expand their territory, they would simply spawn more of their kind rather than control other meat vessels. 




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

A sudden shock went through Nilvae's system. Mr Spide had an idea? She trembled on her whole body, fearing for her life, but somehow the body pressure from the spider so alien, yet familiar to her comforted her more than distressed her. She let the spider proceed. Soon the spider covered her head, then went downwards. Nilvae could not do anything but control her breathing and try not to break out in laughter.

She entrusted her life to a magical spider-donkey, in a drow keep fitted with antimagical cages, guarded by two powerful priests and several dozen armed guards, surrounded by a demonic swarm. A moment of calm collectedness ran through her. Yes, that was indeed the most feasible response. To trust her friend, her ally. After all, the other options were exhausted fully.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

Sarith's response is delayed. He considers simply declining, leaving them to whatever faces them in the dark, perhaps forcing Borthan to stay awake if he wishes to ensure no further attacks in the night, but any delays would keep him stuck in this dank cave scrabbling for mushrooms, and he wanted real food. Weighing up the options, he decides that, ultimately, he would rather expedite their destruction of the outpost than unleash a petty pain on those around him. *"Fine."* 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Hide check to watch unseen, since he's not an invisiboy? (1d20+8)[*16*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

While Jimjar nudges Turvy awake with his foot, Faedryl's telekinetic hand jostles Ront awake. The orc's huge arm swings at it, phasing through the apparition. Rolling onto his back, he gracelessly draws himself to his feet and looks around groggily.

Faedryl can hear Jimjar half-joking with Turvy over a bet on whether Topsy stabs him when he nudges her awake, as she rounds the corner to stir the rest of their party. Dworic is already awake, keeping watch over the other entrance to their little alcove in the dark.

Everyone remains tense and on edge after being awoken for the attack, but Topsy is soon looking more miffed over being woken up for nothing. "So you woke us up over the plan working and the problem being solved?" the she-gnome scowls and bitterly complains. "What now, then? We wait and see what happens?"

*"Now, I think it's time we part ways,"* Eldeth says, looking at them all. *"Not much left to bind us together after escaping, and I have important business back in Gauntlgrym."* The dwarfess has enough tact not to outright express her distaste for present company, but it's clear she's not interested in hanging around for someone to backstab someone else in this motley gang - or going back to help a madwoman she barely knows.

"The slaves need an escort and they'd only slow you down," the gruff barbarian states, with less restrained suspicion than his comrade. "We'll do what we can to clear the path ahead and mark it for you," He reaches up and draws a finger down the stone beside him, in a demonstrative gesture. "Line for food or water, X for danger."


Meanwhile, Borthan hauls the bridge back up with no small amount of effort - it is not a light construction. But he is able to rebind the ropes. Not as sturdy as it once was, but it should hold. Ideally one or two at a time, depending on size.

*The Outpost*

Gradually, Nilvae finds herself turned over, and over, spun into a cocoon of webbing by the spider unseen. It is a nerve-wracking experience that leaves her feeling like she's about to be made a meal. But when it finishes, and she is bound, she finds that she has room for her arms to move within the cocoon, room to gesture. And the sticky side of the web does not face inwards. A web hood hides her head and face, and her mouth is covered by non-sticky thread allowing her to mutter behind it, or shake it off to speak freely. Enough to cast simple spells at the very least.

The spider's cracking, gnashing mandibles next to her ear let out a hissing sound like a gentle _sssshhhh_, shushing her. Then she feels a sting in her side. The spider has bitten her - but she feels no sting of venom, no numbing of poison, as the fangs are drawn back out. A little prick, barely enough to draw blood.

Then, the sound of its eight creaking legs crawling away towards the door.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Sad to see small man and beardy woman go. Stool hums into the air with the aid of smell. United we are stronger. But larger target. You take care. He tries to hug the dwarf, less as an endearing act of comfort, and more to taste his skin, his smell, to identify and track where he goes. Only if he allows it though.

Stool is tired now, needs sleep to commune with Psilofyr.




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Struggling to keep herself calm for the process, Nilvae nontheless knows enough of spiders that they only expend their energy for webbing if they want to build a nest, or preserve food, not to eat immediately. The small sting was likewise extraordinary. Two versions of Nilvae existed in her head, the mad and carefree Nilvae everyone knows, and a remnant of her former self, the modest, cool and collected farm girl.

She was wondering if Puck imparted some sort of intelligence into the donkey. See his spider form again, any doubt was dispelled. Yes, the beast might just be smarter than she is. Mpfould A yeww fo' he'p nao? she inquires of Mr Spide.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

"If the problem was solved I wouldn't have woken you. They would not have sent four zombies on their own with no plan to follow up. Even if we were tired they'd have little chance given the chokepoints of the tunnels. If you'd like to be caught unawares by drow slavers _again_, by all means, go back to sleep. Maybe once you're again in chains you'll think back to this moment and see that I was right." Faedryl can't help but let out a deep sigh. They're not the only one who is tired. She didn't get to rest at all, while they've been snoozing away merrily for the last four hours. Her voice losing its edge to fatigue. "Just stay alert for an hour. If nothing else happens then you get to tell me you were right and go back to sleep."

She has no words for the dwarves, leaving in the middle of their rest to...what, escort slaves that are in the same position they were? Perhaps expecting anything better from them was a mistake. That they wouldn't try to help with the rescue, or exact revenge is...she can't think of it anymore, other than keeping those she does have together. 





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

Ignorant of the further discussions, Sarith maintains his silent watch.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

Reaching down, Dworic awkwardly pats Stool on the head when the myconid waddles up to hold onto his leg. "... Wherever you go from here, we'll make sure Gauntlgrym knows you're no friends of Menzoberranzan. Should at least keep you from being attacked on sight," he says, though Eldeth behind him has a look of skepticism.

She at least doesn't seem to have any animosity towards the mushroom. *"Take care as well."*

Waking the slaves, they begin making their way down the tunnels ahead.


Leaning on the wall with a curled lip, Topsy draws one of her daggers and watches the direction of the bridge. "One hour," she agrees.

Beside her, Jimjar looks up at Faedryl with a grin and raises an eyebrow. After letting it hang expectantly for a bit, he cracks a laugh. *"I bet you were expecting me to make a bet, hey?"* he jests, picking at some of the edible moss in his teeth from their earlier meal.


The wait goes by, with Sarith taking over watch duties at the bridge. But everything remains quiet, no signs of further pursuit.

*The Outpost*

Whether Mr. Spide understands or not, no response comes. Instead, the sound of a spider hissing and chitinous legs rapping at the metal bars of the door. Not long after, footsteps approach from outside and a donkey's hooves begin stamping on the ground.

"Well, that didn't take long. Guess you ain't a surfacer pet after all," a guard's voice says from outside, apparently speaking to the donkey-spider. He walks away, leaving the unwatched donkey in its current form. It plods back further into the room, pacing near Nilvae.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Once Borthan is done hauling bridge and tying ropes, he advises Sarith on the new weight capacity of the bridge before heading back towards the cavern the others had settled down into. He stretches, popping a knot in his back and beginning to relax the vigilant tenseness that had settled into his body. When he entered the area he looked around at everyone, focusing on the collection of dwarves that had assembled near the exit. You're leaving... He said it before he fully realized what that meant. Less strength. Less fighters. This was going to make things harder. But he knew from the determined looks on their faces that he couldn't stop them with a warning. So he smiled and approached Dworic. It was good knowing you outside a cell for all of five minutes, Biggun'. Fast travels and safe journeys to you. He looks up at the other dwarves. To all of you. Find a way to store water. It'll do you more good than those godsforsaken excuses for weapons. That said, he turns in place and strides over to the quaggoth, sitting down next to him. You're the Biggun' now, friend. Unless yon orcish fist fighter knocks you flat. Borthan follows Faedryl's advice, keeping vigilant for an hour, and silently yearning for sleep every minute of it. 




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Biggun'?  Derendil nearly spit the word from his mouth in distaste for it's regional patois. His heart had sank when the dwarves announced their parting, even more so when he realized that there was little chance that the more civilized members of this haphazard band would likely exclude him based on his hideous new form. But... after pondering this nickname for a moment, he realized there was at least some small nugget of comradery hidden deep inside it. Either that or malicious spite. For now, he would rather presume comradery. Speaking in accented high elvish, he responds I vastly prefer Prince Derendil, but I will take what I can get, I suppose... Borthan gave a small grunt of laughter before responding in his own brand of the fair tongue. Damn right.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Plan to rest and meditate? Stool asks Faedryl. She seemed not the leader of the bunch, but the brains of the operation, and the one most comfortable with telepathy. Or just short sleep? Powers have not returned to Stool, but body is good as new. he says showing off his slimy intact self.

Please watch Sarith, his wounds heal like fungus. Like myconid. That not normal. the myconid adds in a conspiratory "voice".  He adds a cheerful: If short pause, you can sleep now. not realizing the implications to the nerves of the drow noble.




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Nilvae removes her mouth wrap with a few exaggerated chewing motions. She wriggles towards and under Doctor Donk waiting for the spider form to pop. Then she gives him some sort of attack with a head butt for the spider to be surprised and possibly fight back. CURSE YOU VILE DROW AND YOUR DAMN ENCHANTED ANIMALS! GET AWAY FROM ME! she says encouraging Mr Spide to clatter, hiss and bear his fangs.

*Spoiler*
Show

10+6=16 if Mr Spide does NOT help, 15+6 = 21 if he DOES help.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted*

"I will trance once the hour is up." It wouldn't do for her to wake everyone and then rest herself. That would make her seem very...drow. "Sarith will be fine on his own, we have bigger things to worry about right now." True to her word she leaves Sarith where he is. She wasn't adept at hiding herself, and if she gave away their element of surprise that would be all the worse. She half doesn't trust Stool has actually seen anything and is just babbling fool things, but regardless of whether it was true or not she didn't have the brainpower to care right now. If he'd got himself some myconid spore infection then...deal with that when it comes up.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

Dworic clasps Borthan's arm, a reluctant look in his eyes. "Sorry to leave you, Lit'lun," the dwarf answers, perhaps enjoying a little irony in calling someone taller 'little.' "These folks aren't cut out for crawling around in the dark or assaulting outposts," he nods back at the slaves, as Eldeth stirs them from their rest. "And we must bring word to Gauntlgrym, the demons we saw aren't the only ones around. Be careful of such fiends on your own journey."

Once the hour long wait is over, Topsy gives Faedryl a dirty, tired look and lies back down without another word. Eventually everyone returns to rest, and this time aren't interrupted by zombies or drow before they awaken.

*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

Sarith may make a Perception check during his watch.


*The Outpost*

There is a pause in the footsteps leaving and the guard comes back, soon followed by more arachnid scuttling. "I see. Still alive, then," the guard taps on the cell bars and clicks his tongue. "Stay," he tells the spider, before walking away again.

Mr. Spider flops down on the floor.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

Some time after the zombies harried them, as the end of their rest draws near, Sarith can see movement down the tunnel. He recognizes the many-legged shapes of spiders crawling along the walls, moving away from them and back towards the outpost. With them is a taller figure, likely one of the priestesses.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

A priestess. As expected. Ilvarra, or Asha? He couldn't tell from this distance. The latter would be better, for a number of reasons. Either way his crossbow wouldn't reach into the gloom effectively. Faedryl...Faedryl would know what to do. Silently, he creeps further into the cave to the trancing Melad. *"Enemies approaching. At least one priestess and some spiders."* He gives her a light shake on the shoulder, only to have her jerk away from him instinctively. The question of whether it was because it was him or if she would have done so with anyone dies in his throat before he can voice such a childish notion.

Following behind Faedryl, he takes up position out of sight in hiding, weapon at the ready. 






*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

Strictly speaking she'd had enough rest, but she can't deny that she would have liked more. Her eyes snap open at Sarith's whispered message. She'd bet it was Asha. Little chance Ilvarra took to the field so quickly. Drow loved delegating, especially when they could then claim credit for later even without active involvement. "Greetings Asha!" Her shout is loud enough that it will hopefully carry forwards beyond the river, but more importantly it will waken those at her back. She'd been early with her warning before, but they _had_ come. Eventually. "As you are probably aware I am Faedryl, formerly of House Melad. I think we should talk." 

With how few of them were awake and aware, and the limited ranged options, the element of surprise was of little value. Instead perhaps she would be open to a dialogue. She wasn't foolish enough to believe she could make Asha switch sides, but playing on a drow's ambition was often a winning strategy. Siding with Faedryl and the rest of them? Unlikely. Trying to oust Ilvarra for her own gain? That...that might just work.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan's eyes spring open. He was still tired, but he'd survived on far less sleep. Admittedly he was getting very tired of being tired, but he imagined this would be the way of things until he reached his cabin on the surface again. Every time he went down into the underdark, he missed the feeling of open wind on his face and the brightness of the sun, but considering he had been dreaming of both before the alarm shout went out the feeling of absence was particularly acute. Still, this didn't slow him for a moment. He kipped up from prone and stalked his way closer to the bridge, keeping some distance between him and the others in case any crossbow shots were fired. 




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil released a massive yawn, his feline features split in two by his open, toothy maw. What time is it? He asked no one in particular. It took him several blinking moments to remember where he was. What he was. Who he was. He slowly climbs to his feet, waiting in the fungal cavern for word to come on whether they were fighting or not. His bulky, massive form would not be able to manage much in the way of stealth, but he made a formidable reserve.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Let elf witch come with her pets. Stool got present. Stool hums as the warning follows through in the resting place. Stool touches the bridge, and its wood begins to grow out spiky extrusions. The danger is well-hidden, with the same color and rough makeup of the bridge. Can you cover trap? Use dark magic. Stool asks both Sarith and Borthan mentally.

*Spoiler*
Show

Spike Growth for the last 40 ft. of the bridge, creating difficult terrain, forcing a DC 13 Perception check to uncover the "trap". Failure means 2d4 





*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Nilvae sighs. She either ruined Mr Spide's plan, or the drow simply don't care about her anymore. So what exactly was your plan? Nilvae inquires of her friendly neighborhood spider-donkey. Instinctively she tries to evoke her fey magic to have a better conversation with the stubborn spider.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

*"Anybody's guess, friend,"* Jimjar's bright voice chimes next to Derendil as the beast prince begins to wake up. *"Down here in the Underdark, it may as well be whatever time you'd like! But the answer right now is probably 'morning' for us."*

With everyone now rested, they begin preparing near the bridge. The close quarters have some of them waiting in rooms off to the side, the two gnome siblings lurking in the next room over near Buppido, giving the mad dwarf cautious looks that don't seem to bother him at all. Derendil remains in the next cavern with Shuushar and Jimjar, watching the rear and lurking in reserve.

Stool reaches out with hyphae, stretching spiny growths across the bridge just in case, as Faedryl calls out down the tunnels. Sarith can see the figure in the distance pause. A voice echoes back through the tunnel, *"Is that so, Faedryl?"* the voice's youth and energy is certainly that of the younger priestess.

*"If you wish to parley, come alone!"*

*The Outpost*

There is no verbal response from the spider, merely the tapping of hard chitinous legs against the stone. Eventually, she hears more footsteps approaching the door. The sharp clicking and clacking of heels, much like those of the spider.

"I hear you're feeling talkative," a dark female voice from outside says, as Mr. Spide can be heard shifting back into donkey form. "And that your... _pet_ hasn't eaten you yet."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan tapped Faedryl on the shoulder as a way of letting her know where he was. If they're fool enough not to be carrying any actual light, you can go alone AND have back up, if you see what I'm saying. He would let her decide though. Her attempt at diplomacy, her life on the line. He was just foolish enough to throw his own life in the pot as well.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

Faedryl steps up to the edge of the bridge, though doesn't step any further, a symbolic act that they can meet and talk from across the distance, without putting either side in jeopardy - and avoiding the spike growth trap. Even if she did have Borthan at her side, it wasn't worth it. "We can talk well enough from here. I'm not so quick to deliver myself to the spider's maw." A light chuckle follows from her, displaying levity despite her tense muscles. There's any number of spells that could bring her ruin, even at this distance. She gestures for those nearby to stand back - at least to move out of sight, even if they can be ready to pounce at a moment's notice. "Ilvarra sent you to recover us, I assume." 'Us'. It still felt weird. "When she takes credit for the success, or blames you alone for the failure, will you be satisfied with that? From what I gather she already tossed Duskryn aside. It makes me wonder how long until she does the same to you?" Asha must have considered it, given that she too was drow. If she didn't have a half dozen plans to overthrow Ilvarra then Faedryl would be sincerely surprised.

"Our business is not finished at _Ilvarra's_ outpost. I'm not fool enough to suggest you join with us, but perhaps we can find ways to help each other get what we want." She couldn't volunteer too much, but needed just enough of a hook to get Asha interested.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool couldnt do much at this distance that would not result in immediate warfare, so he stayed alert, even though his usual hum reverts to a more primal growl. 




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Nilvae noticed the voice. That was the woman who fed her dog to their vile spiders. She was struggling not to wail out in anger, but kept herself calm. At least my spider-donkey is sensible enough not to become an arch-demon's little bitch like you and your disgusting purple brood. How can you still be salty about being exiled from the surface? You followed them down here.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

The priestess takes her time, cautiously strolling back towards the end of the bridge, her spiders in front of her, holding a screen of web between them to help catch projectiles fired across the gap. One of the two spiders looks different, its husk pale and marked with injuries. Like the drow soldiers, it is undead, its exoskeleton moving under fell power, and a purple gleam in its eyes.  Faedryl's own entourage backs off, save perhaps for the unseen Borthan lurking nearby.

Asha peers out at the bridge, clearly taking note of its condition. But she spares it any comment. *"So here we are, Melad. Two of the new guard, meeting outside the eyes of the old. How scintillating,"* the priestess' grin is as malevolent as it is genuinely friendly. A servant of Lolth knows no other kind of friendly, than the kind where you've a knife behind your back.

*"I know what I want, but what do you want? You wouldn't be parleying with me if you wished only to leave and never look back."*

*The Outpost*

"Keep watch of the thing. I don't expect it to be stupid enough to interfere, but I would rather avoid the effort," the drow commander speaks to whomever is with her outside of the cell. Likely some guards posted there. The clink of the lock opening follows, as she steps inside and approaches Nilvae. 

"It would do you well to remember who is in control here. I can make use of your death as readily as I can make use of your life," she raises her foot and pointedly - and pointily - presses her shoe's sharp heel into Nilvae's leg, driving it down hard enough to cause pain, perhaps even draw blood. "But there is a world in which you walk free, little fly. Would you like to hear about it?"

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Going free? This of course must be a lie, but Nilvae yearned for her days in the wilds, surrounded by chatty animals, before she met Borthan. The kick into her leg was enough to bring her back, to make her focus on the here and now. 

The half-elf smiled. You need me alive, don't you? I won't press my luck any further knowing your lot can be cr... she eats her words as the heel digs into her calf. ...that I won't take my life for granted.

Do you really think I would have resisted your acolyte so readily, leaving myself behind on the frontline only for me to betray the others? On the promise of the words of the supposed queen of betrayers? Isn't that just like covering yourself in honey, trusting the old bear not to crack open your ribs and eat you?

I will hear your proposal, just know where I stand in all of this. Nilvae says with a tone as noble as one can lying in the dirt, covered in cobwebs and bleeding from a leg.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

She hadn't immediately called an attack, but whether that was just to aim at Faedryl's physical weakpoint, or probe for her emotional one...she couldn't be sure. Still, if Asha had half a brain in her skull then she could work out what Faedryl was after quickly on her own, the question seems less actual curiosity in the answer and more probing for honesty, at least by her estimation.

"One of the prisoners was left behind when we...left." 'Fled' almost passed her lips, and though accurate it would only undermine their position. 
"Though I don't expert her unharmed, especially by now, we would see her returned to us. There's also my effects that were taken on my capture, and those of the other prisoners." Her spellbook chief among them. She gives a generous shrug. "It's not much, to you at least. One prisoner and some trinkets you have no need for in return for our help in acquiring you your own position of power. I'm sure the Matron Mothers would believe whatever story you told them - that Ilvarra had us killed for her amusement despite their wishes, that she was planning on using us as slaves in a bid for power against the Matrons and you had to stop her, that she planned sedition even at the cost of all those under her command." That last one had the benefit of almost certainly being true. 

"Once we have Nilvae and our things we'll have no reason to remain and will be looking to leave you to _your_ new outpost."

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

A self-assured smirk rests on Asha's face as she regards Faedryl during her proposal, her arms folded casually and confidently in front of her. *"Strange that the irritating little girl is the first thing you want back. Is that why your mother is after you? Got sweet on a slave, started to think of them like people?"* the younger priestess asks, probing at Faedryl personally.

*"Now, assuming I was interested in your proposal. What exactly do you need from me, and what are my guarantees that I won't be left with a useless outpost full of corpses?"*

*Spoiler: Insight DC 11*
Show

She seems genuinely interested in Faedryl's reasons.


*The Outpost*

"Someone who can change their appearance is not very useful as a slave. They are mostly a liability," the drow woman speaks from above Nilvae, keeping her heel where it is as a reminder, but not digging it in further. At least, not yet. "So your life's worth to me is very little, you must understand. But I think you want to live, even if you also like to play the hero. Most people do."

The high priestess of the outpost shifts her weight, leaning down closer, conspiratorially. A motion that causes no small amount of discomfort to her captive. "If you need a reason to trust me, it is this: most of this motley gang of escapees are of equally little value in the grand scheme of things. Save for _one_. Faedryl Melad. The drow woman. If you can isolate her for my agents to bring in, the rest of you can simply _go_. Not because I am kind, not because I am honorable, but because killing or capturing you all again is more costly than it is worth to me. Does that satisfy your doubts about my offer?"

*Spoiler: Insight DC 14*
Show

Her words are honest. There is little doubt she would kill or enslave them all given the opportunity, but with the depleted elfpower at her outpost it makes sense that she wouldn't want a prolonged conflict.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

Baited and hooked. It was a start. She laughs, genuinely. As if Nilvae was her type. "We wouldn't have escaped without her help. It's returning the favour. As for _Mother-dearest_..." She sighs. Was she going to really start calling out her history with the other prisoners listening in? "I doubt you'd hear me even when I tell you, but the drow...we're broken. For thousands of years we've fought and bled and accomplished...nothing. Nothing at all. I've read the histories, I've seen the results. Conquests against the surface fail, expansions throughout the Underdark fail, and not because our foes are smarter or stronger than us. They're not!" Certainly not smarter than her. "We waste generations of drow blood on internal fighting and backstabbing for power. Those underneath try to kill their superiors to take their place. Those above kill those below to keep their place. They say it's to keep us strong, that it weeds out the weak, but where did it get us?" Faedryl widens her arms. Someone got her talking, which was always a mistake. Her voice grows to a yell, not simply to be heard but because of the raw emotion that Asha has inadvertently pulled to the surface. It's almost jovial, but a mad sort of glee that borders on mockery, rejoicing in absurdity. "Nowhere! It got us nowhere! We are *drow*, blessed by Lolth, and what do we have to show for it? Thousands of years of 'strengthening' ourselves on each other's knives and we're still kept down by the surfacers." She stops, catches herself before she can go too far into insulting those around her. "Either our people are the problem, or our society is. And when I decided it was our society, my Mother..." Another pause. A deep breath. Shaky, but more from anger than nerves. "She didn't take it well."

She lets her words settle in, ferment, before continuing.

"The irony in complaining about drow backstabbing, even as I encourage you to do just that, is not lost on me. Think I'm a fool or hypocrite if you like. If you want an oath or promise that I won't betray you I can swear to that, for what it's worth. I'd like to avoid spilling more drow blood if possible, so I think there's two possible paths we take. First is that you somehow convince Ilvarra to leave the outpost to hunt us. With a prepared ambush we can take her down, leaving you in control as the next ranking Priestess. You covertly release the prisoner, who returns our effects, and we go our separate ways. Alternatively, you could pull as many forces from the outpost as you can to 'hunt' us in another direction. With the outpost emptied, we attack, keep those alive that we can and put down Ilvarra, then make our escape before you return."

She'd spoken a lot, for such a short question, but by offering two possible paths she hopes to make it more likely that one gets chosen, not just because of options but also presenting multiple options makes them less likely to turn it down outright.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

This is how she was still alive. The priestess did not _need_ her per se, but she could be an asset to draw the others' attention towards a trap. She didn't make a last stand only to guide them into a trap, but she knew no one but Borthan there. Faedryl was probably not loosing a second of sleep on her, but Borthan would push to get her back, that she was sure of. In that regard, she was probably better of leading a drow warband towards Borthan rather than being held hostage in here, where the drow had a homefield advantage.

Faedryl was a typical drow, but she struggled to be nice to Nilvae. The surface elf was empathic enough to understand how much of a struggle it must be to work against decades of indoctrination. She was really trying to convert, to get away from all of this. Her reasons were her own, but Nilvae thought her loyal. To betray a new friend like that. She felt the smooth carapace turning into a donkey again. She knew, it was two on one. Only if this vile betrayal includes my friend here. And my dog, if he is still alive. Nilvae is fighting back tears. This was almost too much for her.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

It seems at first that the other young drow woman is listening sincerely, considering Faedryl's speech. Then she slowly begins to chuckle, building up to mocking laughter. *"Ah, that was an amusing speech, Melad. And a profound lack of understanding. If the Matron Mothers have failed, it is their weakness that caused it."* The priestess turns away and waves her hand. *"I doubt such a blind idealist could manage to assault our outpost from the outside. Try if you like."*

A flash of purple light strikes one of the ropes on Faedryl's side of the bridge, near where Borthan tied them up. It frays and snaps with glowing violent cinders, the bridge tilting and quickly becoming uncrossable. Not impossible to repair again, but plenty of time for the priestess and her spiders to retreat back down the tunnel.

*The Outpost*

"Very well. The spider creature can go with you. The dog, however, perished during the events of your attempted escape," taking her foot off of Nilvae's leg, the drow priestess slashes the cocoon holding her arms and legs with a dagger and steps back. Nilvae is now able to remove the web hood blindfolding her, and see two other drow at the door. The priestess' lover, now clad in his proper equipment, and another drow guard.

The priestess walks out of the room and motions for Nilvae to follow. "We will let you down on the lift. A squad will follow some distance behind. Lure the Melad girl away, alone, and they will take care of the rest. Make up whatever story you need to."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

"That just proves my point!" She yells at Asha's retreating back in frustration. Gods preserve her sanity, her people tested it more than any non-drow did. Faedryl kicks at an errant rock in frustration, launching it into the waters with an almost inaudible _plop_. Of course even if they did take the outpost, killed the guards, rescued Nilvae and recovered their gear Faedryl doubts Asha would have any epiphany or change her mind. The drow could watch their cities overrun with a slave uprising from within and surfacers from without and the conclusion they'd inevitably draw from it is that they didn't stab each other in the back _enough_. And what was wrong with idealism? People should have ideals! Huffing, frustrated, she takes a deep breath to calm herself and let serenity return before returning to the group.

"That could have gone better. Do we need more time to rest or shall we prepare to move?" The orc was the most tired of them all. This location wasn't comfortable, but it had food (of a sort) and fresh water, and it was defensible. Absent any better options she considers it the ideal place to remain until they're all recovered.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: ?? HP: ??/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

It does seem drow-like to put a dog down once he is not entertaining anymore. Nilvae scoffed as she stood up. She only had her rage to quell not to try and strangle her in impotent rage for killing her second best friend. Mr Spide followed her suit, as she guided her to stay behind. 

What delightful travel company. she adds, hiding a bit of her sarcasm though she was sure the drow saw through that. I would like my things back, thank you very much. At least enough to get by in the wilderness.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

A light laugh and a chipper voice greet Faedryl's frustration as she comes back to the group, commenting on yet another diplomatic disaster. *"That's two strikes out. Third time's the charm though, eh?"*

"They need to lower the lift for her," Topsy points out, nodding in the direction of the drow priestess in the process of leaving. "Unless you have some other idea to get us up there, we might want to get on her trail, and fast." The gnome points out, her arms folded. 

Ront rolls his shoulders and speaks in rough surface common, *"Good fight. Not sure, climb."* His eyes still have tired bags under them, but he's moving with more vigor this 'morning.'

*The Outpost*

The spider crawls out behind her, chitinous legs clacking on the stone. The drow escort them through the guard post, where she sees the bridge to the rest of the outpost has been repaired using spider silk and sturdy boards from disassembled wooden furniture. She is brought to the lift, where Ilvara turns to face her.

More drow are gathered here, an elite warrior in dark armor, and a subordinate. There are also two quaggoth standing beside the lift, and four covered in rotten wounds covered in coagulated blood, standing in defiance of all logic. Zombies.

"We will lower the squad down. Then we will lower you and your pet. There is a trail of blood and gore leading to the other escapees. Follow it. The squad will be some distance behind you, waiting for you to isolate the Melad girl. Do you understand?" the priestess narrates out the plan, as the elite, his subordinate, and a pair of undead quaggoth climb aboard the lift and are lowered down.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way I can't stop trying." Can't. Won't. Shouldn't. Despite her frustrations she's resolute, and her will isn't shaken at all. Faedryl still fervently believes she's right, knows it in her very core. Even if the whole world told her she was wrong, she knew otherwise.

Following Asha might be the right play, all things considered, but if they were baited they'd be clumped together and vulnerable. The opposite was true too, she supposed, and crossing the bridge would slow them all down to give Asha a small lead so it wasn't immediately obvious they were being followed, but she looks to the others to soft-poll their views on it.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP:8/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Nilvae felt more confident as the magic returned to her body. She could access Puck's dubious blessings, and it was weird the drow was not aware of that. Surely her commander informed her of the battle and capabilties of them. Maybe her blunder in trying to put elves to magical sleep was an advantage now as neither her slut boy nor the cleric herself saw her teleportation abilities. One thing remained though. If she fled the scene with magic, Mr Spide would be left there, and slaughtered no doubt. 

Sure. Simple as day. Or night? Whatever you folks say down here. May I use my fey blessings to communicate the plan to my pet more clearly? It says common tongue for you, it is just that the donkey can understand me too. she inquires.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan sighs as his work with the bridge is destroyed, alongside Faedryl's attempt at diplomacy. He waited several moments before speaking. We have to beat them back to the outpost. If they know we're coming back it will be next to impossible to get Nilvae and our stuff. I'll get to work on the bridge. Borthan set to work immediately, putting his experience from the first patch job into the second one.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fungal Campsite*

Ront steps up to help Borthan pull the once-more broken bridge back up and tie it in place anew. *"Agree,"* he says, gruffly. Nobody seems to voice much dissent in the matter, though Shuushar looks less eager than the rest to return to the shedding of blood. Buppido's thoughts are a mystery, staring idly at the walls without any real care to their chosen path.

"Blblissfully unaware bluh spider priestess may ble, blut mayble you will have bletter luck convincing blub rank and file," the fishman suggests optimistically, trying to boost Faedryl's spirits.

Her opinion on the matter already voiced, Topsy anxiously awaits the bridge to be finished, and the group begins filing across one or two at a time. It is a familiar path back through the cave tunnels, Asha out of view ahead of them.

*The Outpost*

"Speak with the creature if you must," waving her hand dismissively, the priestess waits while the lift is brought back up. Nilvae and Mr. Spide are loaded in next, along with a third quaggoth zombie. The thing looms over her, the stench of death pervading the lift as she's slowly lowered down perhaps another petty drow cruelty. For its part, the undead stares out into the cavern with blank eyes and rigid purpose.

The drow captain and the rest are awaiting her below, and Nilvae can make out more shapes approaching in the dark. For a moment, there is a glimmer of hope that it may be the others coming back for her. Then she sees it is none other than the younger drow priestess, flanked by a pair of spiders, one alive and the other an unnatural arthropoidal animated skeleton.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

"Unless you know of an extra tunnel I don't think getting ahead of them is viable - we've only a single path to the outpost, and Asha's on it already. Either we follow behind her, or we go through her." They didn't know just how much support Asha has - or had. Provoking a fight with only partial information wasn't recommended, but then they'd never know _everything._ She had to hold out some hope that Asha might have been swayed even a tad to her plan even if not her ideals.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP:8/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Nilvae uses her fey powers to incant the speak with animals spell. Thanks for the attempt, my friend. Your effort was not in vain. It seems we walk freely after all. I think however our friend Muttlery has died in a tragic misunderstanding. Nilvae bites her tongue in that moment trying not to accuse the vile witch behind her of murder. Our new quest is clear. We are to be free if we bring her the drow mage. You play not part in this plan, you are to return to Borthan when we meet the others. Listen to his commands, he ensures your safety.

Any luck on controlling the transformation? Nilvae bubbles with joy being able to talk to her beloved animals yet again. She is then faced with the incoming drow party. She is struck by another panic attack, it runs coldly down her spine. Almost defensively, she shouts in Elven: Your master and I have an agreement. Do not attack! It is mixed with rage as she sees the Lolth-touched spiders that ate her dog. You ate him, didn't you. You can be glad you are protected by two of your god's servants and their guards, or else I would pop each pair of your eyes individually.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan leads the way on the return, staying invisible and trying his best to catch up with the priestess and her spider pets.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil can't help but question the rationale for this mission, but he wasn't about to protest against recovering his spell book, or saving someone so shortly after he was saved.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Outpost Cavern*

*Spoiler: Spider Speech*
Show

*"The lack of communication in that cell was most irritating, indeed. The mere air so oppressive and vulgar."* The large black spider visible shudders at the thought. Then gazes across the cavern at the other spider(s) returning. *"Ah, and speaking of vulgar. The wench who devoured our Emergency Rations now approaches,"* Mr. Spide speaks venomously.

*"No, the dimwit donkey remains beyond my capacity to command,"* the creature speaks softly, to avoid being overhead by its vile cousins.

"_Mistress_," the still-living lolth-touched spider corrects Nilvae spitefully. "No master holds sway over the goddess' children. Mayhap your fleabitten mongrel has masters." The two spiders, living and undead both, hiss and chitter gleefully, laughing at Mr. Spide's expense like a clique of mean girls.


Strolling past Nilvae, Asha and her spiders board the lift without paying them much mind. *"I am well aware of the plan. You hid in the cavern and snuck past me as I returned,"* Asha instructs Nilvae, standing haughtily upon the lift with her pets on either flank as it begins to ascend once more.

Left with 'her' squad, Nilvae is motioned forward by the drow captain.

*The Tunnels*

The trip back is hampered by spiders webs placed along the ground, and stretched across the narrow tunnel. It seems the priestess anticipated she might be followed. It takes minimal effort to slash down the webs, but they are annoying and time consuming, and the web-coated ground sticks to their feet and boots most annoyingly.

*Spoiler: Nilvae*
Show

Unless she takes a different course of action, Nilvae can make her appearance to the group while they traverse the tunnels, with the drow squad out of sight behind her.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP:8/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Suddenly it comes back to Nilvae. Mr Spide was some sort of evil villain. The only thing he lacked was a monocle with a thousand eyeglasses. Still, it was company and help. After getting a few hundred feet between her and the outpost, she starts chiding the spider Muttley is...was not emergency food. He was a friend. Also did you TRY AND EAT ME?! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DOING A TRICK!

ALONSIUS SPIDE! You are just a naughty boy.

She falls silent for a moment, thinking. Advance from my position. Find the tiny mushroom, and signal him to use his magic. Then just think about it. As Mr Spide hurries, she "trips" and falls into the dirt.

*Spoiler*
Show

Deception to fake fall (1d20+6)[*24*]
Is the drow ambush further than 60 ft back so i cant Faerie Fire them?

----------


## RandomWombat

*Spoiler: Spider Speech*
Show

*"The two are not mutually exclusive, sprite, not at all. Were I to perish, I would be quite offended should you allow my nutritious insides go to waste. Do mind the poison glands though."* Mr. Spide makes a chittering noise that her magical translation registers as a deep, throaty chuckle. One sharp limb adjusts the spectral monocle only she can see; or perhaps just brushes something off of the spider's face. *"I had hoped you would play dead, and they would remove you from the cell, where your magic could be of some use to us,"* he carries on, explaining his earlier plan.


As she comes up to a turn in the path, Nilvae fakes tripping and falling, causing the drow party behind her to slow down and stop as they catch up with her. "First day with the new legs?" the drow captain asks with a mocking sneer.

Mr. Spide skitters ahead, coming upon Borthan as he creeps forward ahead of the others - and sees Nilvae past the familiar black spider, fallen upon the ground and looking injured. The spider nearly bumps into him, but its keen senses detect him just before, hairs standing on end. It makes a hissing sound and crawls onto the wall, attempting to squeeze past one another.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Roll20 map updated with positions. If the party would like to adjust the placeholder marching order I threw up, just let me know.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan spots Nilvae come into view and a sudden urge to run to her makes him pick up his pace a bit. But then it slows back down again. And then he is moving at a crawl, trying to muffle the sound of his footsteps. He turns to face Sarith and speaks low and slow in elvish, trying to cast his voice just far enough to be heard. Hold position at the coming pillar until I scout this out. It's a good chokepoint. Whether or not his directions are followed, Borthan advances as quietly as he can, keenly aware of any light that would reveal him to normal vision. He squeezes into the small crevice on his left where the pillar makes it a tight fit. Then he speaks up, again trying to keep his voice low and quiet as possible. This time he is speaking in common. Nilvae. Come on. Keep to your left. Assuming Nilvae followed that command, Borthan would squeeze through and attempt to get behind Nilvae to scout the tunnel ahead. And hell, if everyone just started doing what Borthan said, wouldn't the world work so much better? He couldn't swallow a grim chuckle, but he did mute it to the best of his ability.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Speak to Sarith, move ahead and squeeze into the choke point between us and Nilvae, then speak to Nilvae. Attempting to do all this with stealth- (1d20+4)[*22*] to move silently. I don't know if being invisible aids with that specifically, but just in case it gives advantage (1d20+4)[*11*].

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP:8/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Nilvae looks north, but can only hear the others as well as see her pet vanish into the darkness. Suddenly, she looks right and waves the drow boys goodbye as she steps through the feywild up north Squirrel dimension! she shouts leaving only a small petal shower in her stead. 

Then she starts running north. DROW AMBUSH. THREE FROG ZOMBIES AN' ASHA'S ****BOY! she says, screaming at the top of her lungs. She bumps into Borthan, and hard, if he does not dodge her.

*Spoiler*
Show

Misty Step as the drow fools let her rest. Dash action, move action up north.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

The best laid plans never came to fruition, it seems, for both Faedryl and Ilvarra. She can't imagine that Nilvae rushing up to them was part of the drow's plan. "Try to keep one alive, if you can." Maybe they could exchange a prisoner for her gear and finally get back her spellbook and component pouch. Or use it as bait. Or deception. Or something. Whatever they did with them, a hostage was worth more than a corpse. Especially when they kept throwing corpses at them.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Rest Completed*

Sarith quietly loads a bolt into his crossbow and aims it down the tunnel, ready to pierce the first one to enter his sight.




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Faedryl Initiative: 17
Sarith Initiative: 6

----------


## RandomWombat

As Nilvae's shouts from ahead stir the group out of their walking patterns, Borthan, unseen, slips ahead to find his lost companion - or what appears to be her. The girls' spider companion crawls past him along the wall, then skitters across the floor onto a new wall as it approaches Stool, making chittering sounds at the mushroom.

*Spoiler: Perception 13 (11 for Borthan and Nilvae, who are closer at the time)*
Show

"Unfortunate, but not unexpected," a deep male drow voice can be heard in their Elvish dialect. "Come with me, we return and report back. Servants, delay these upstarts."


*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae uses Misty Step, triggering initiative.

Borthan moves ahead, in Stealth.
Mr. Spide moves along the wall and approaches Stool.

It is Faedryl/Sarith and Nilvae/Stool's turns, and Nilvae completes her Dash and move to rejoin the procession of escaped prisoners. She still has a bonus action left, if she wants to use it for something.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 23
Mr. Spide - 21

Drow Elite - 19

*Faedryl/Sarith* - 11.5
*Nilvae/Stool* - 8.5

Quaggoth Zombies - 8

The Motley Crew - 6.5
*Derendil* - 6

Drow Warrior - 4

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

With the confidence of a seasoned warrior, tiny Stool pushes Sarith aside to form a frontal line with Borthan. We fight together, we don't let them get to nice mad lady.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Fight Time*

The tunnel is too tight or winding to make any real progress from her position, but Faedryl won't be left behind. She pushes through the group up to the pillar and takes position behind it, waiting for the inevitable approach.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Fairly certain there's a pillar blocking her line of sight, but it shouldn't be a big deal.

*Move:* Forwards as on the map.
*Action:* Dodge. Not willing to spend a spell slot and don't have any useful cantrips :P
*Bonus Action:*  None.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Fight Time*

Regardless of what came next Sarith quietly shifts to follow Stool, and aims his crossbow down the tunnel. It wouldn't be his finest shot, but preparing himself for it would serve well regardless. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Forwards to get on the firing line. 
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Dash.
*Action:* Ready a normal bolt, for the first creature to enter within 30'. (1d20+8)[*16*] Damage: (1d6+4)[*7*]

----------


## RandomWombat

Rattling and groaning announces the approach of the undead at the turn in the tunnel, fetid claws grasping at the corner of the wall and a second large, shambling shape becoming visible. Sarith does not hesitate to put a bolt in it.

The motley crew starts to make their way forward, though the tight quarters make it too much trouble for them to join the frontline, so most of them move cautiously. Shuushar, however, scampers ahead and takes up position next to the warriors at the forefront. He prepares to provide magical healing and protection, as needed. Perhaps even to fight - there is no moral quandary in ending the undead.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Stool Dashes.
Faedryl moves forward and Dodges.
Sarith Dashes and readies an attack.

Quaggoth Zombies Dash.
Sarith's readied attack goes off, dealing *7* to the zombie in plain view.

Shuushar Dashes.

Derendil is up.

The Drow Warrior simply retreats on his turn, so the next block may go as well - Borthan, the drow, and Nilvae/Stool.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 23
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 11.5
*Nilvae/Stool* - 8.5

Quaggoth Zombies - 8

The Motley Crew - 6.5
*Derendil* - 6

Drow Warrior - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan briefly considered dashing forward and trying to navigate the quaggoth walking dead to get on the trail of whatever drow spoke, but he did not relish being discovered by a pack of zombies. Invisible did not mean without scent, and he did not know what perceptions they may use in their rotting state. Instead, he held his position, drawing two daggers from the sheathes across his chest. He would try to replicate his tavern trick from earlier on the first zombie who came within range.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Move 5 feet out. Ready a Double Dagger Throw (TM) at the first zombie to come within twenty feet. Advantage due to invisibility. (1d20+5)[*17*] or (1d20+5)[*25*], and (1d20+5)[*21*] or (1d20+5)[*23*]. Damages- (1d4+3)[*7*] and (1d4+3)[*7*]. Then he draws his shortswords and readies for melee. EDIT- *3 damage* additional damage from the crit on the first throw.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil advances towards the front, and as he does he uses the piece of leather he looted from a corpse to cast a spell to armor him for the day. The high elvish words of magic come flawlessly to his tongue. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Move, cast mage armor.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP:8/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: Faerie Fire

Out of breath, the half-elf leans against the wall. The informations she had could not wait however. Asha wanted me to exchange myself for you, Faedryl. Sent a squad and a cleric. Must be a trick, I can't think she is that naive. Nilvae struts forward again, throwing the feylights forward.




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Spike Growth 

Stool expands his hyphae again, trying to make the way ahead dangerous. Again his fungal protrusions prevent movement in the tunnel ahead.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Fight Time*

To say that Faedryl is confused would be an understatement. It seemed exceedingly lax to have Nilvae be granted freedom on the 'honour' that she'd trade Faedryl back to them, especially when drow should expect to be stabbed in the back. Maybe there was more to this. A secret geas? Shapeshifter? Why would Ilvara give up a barganing chip - and a torture victim - on the off chance that they wouldn't simply destroy the drow that followed her? Maybe it was enough that Faedryl was now unsettled. "I don't suppose she gave you my spellbook while they were freeing you?" It was doubtful. Incredibly so. She tries to hold back her skepticism. It wasn't Nilvae's fault that the outpost were apparently foolish, but it did make getting in a more difficult task. How exactly they'd find their way up the lift now...

She conjures the beginnings of a spell, holding it in place until an enemy moves closer, unable to fully plot the next course of action. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Forwards as on the map.
*Action:* Ready Action: Toll the Dead, first creature to get within 60'. Given the spike growth I expect they'll be damaged by the time they get there. (1d20)[*15*]+modifiers wis save vs DC14 for (1d12)[*8*] necrotic.
*Bonus Action:*  None.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Fight Time*

They were slower than anticipated. No matter. He maintains his aim, waiting for one to enter range. He could be patient when he needed to be, even if killing zombified quaggoth wasn't particularly satisfying. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None
*Bonus Action:* None
*Action:* Ready a normal bolt, for the first creature to enter within 30'. (1d20+8)[*22*] Damage: (1d6+4)[*5*]

----------


## RandomWombat

As Borthan steps forward the ground around him writhes with spikey growths, but thankfully his shoes are not perforated. Everyone readies a volley for the inevitable approach of the undead. They predictably charge straight into the trapped hallway with wreckless abandon, their guts and legs being shredded by the fanged fungal hyphae. Magic and projectiles fell one of them, but two more take its place, clawing their way over. The one at the fore simply refuses to die as dagger after dagger slam into its body, and Sarith's bolt pierces its eye.

Laying a webbed hand upon Stool's dome, Shuushar utters a prayer of protection for the young myconid.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil casts Mage Armor on himself.
Borthan steps forward and readies a double dagger throw.
Faedryl readies Toll the Dead.
Sarith readies another shot.
Stool casts Spike Growth. 
Nilvae casts Faerie Fire, marking one of the zombies.

Quaggoth Zombie takes *12* damage from Spike Growth, and *8* from Toll the Dead, then dies to a *6* damage from Dashing forward.
Quaggoth Zombie takes *9* Spike Growth damage, then Dashes, using the other dead quaggoth briefly as a platform over the spikes. Then it takes *7* more damage from spikes, and then *17* total from Borthan's daggers. It survives through Undead Fortitude, then takes *6* more from Sarith, but keeps trucking through the spikes.
Quaggoth Zombie takes *10* spikes damage.

Shuushar casts Virtue, giving Stool *7* temp hp.
Everyone else remains at the back of the crowded tunnel.
It is now the full squad's turns again. Anyone targeting Zombie Quaggoth 1, roll an Undead Fortitude save against you damage+5 for each attack against it, as it's at 1 HP and tanking on sheer luck right now.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 23
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 11.5
*Nilvae/Stool* - 8.5

Quaggoth Zombies - 8

The Motley Crew - 6.5
*Derendil* - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Eighth Day, Fight Time*

Drow still hadn't appeared. These quaggoth were weak, easily dispatched, but if they were stronger they might have been able to turn them on the drow themselves with shapeshifting magic. Too late now, they were half ruined by the myconid's plants. Ill-suited to any task beyond dying. Her throat clangs as she surrounds the closest foe with necrotic energy once more. The sooner they were done with this the better. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None
*Action:* Toll the Dead on the closest boy. (1d20)[*6*]+modifiers wis save vs DC14 for (1d12)[*5*] necrotic. Undead Fort save if hits: (1d20)[*18*] 
*Bonus Action:*  None.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 


*Eighth Day, Fight Time*

Each bolt he spent here was one not spent on a drow. Regardless, he dutifully fires another shot. Let no one say that Sarith Kzerkarit did anything less than what was required - though not particularly more either.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None
*Bonus Action:* None
*Action:* Shoot the closest target. (1d20+8)[*15*] Damage: (1d6+4)[*9*]. Undead Fort save if hits: (1d20)[*1*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan readied himself, allowing the zombies to shred themselves against Stool's spikes, ready to pounce when the undead drew near.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Readying an attack and a bonus action attack with the shortswords. (1d20+5)[*22*] and (1d20+5)[*14*] for advantage. Ditto- (1d20+5)[*6*] and (1d20+5)[*21*]. (1d6+3)[*7*] damage and (1d6+3)[*6*] damage. (1d6)[*3*] damage if I crit.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil stepped forward and squeezed into the gap, readying himself to swap with Borthan should he need a break. He chanted again, and this time a light blue ray flew from his hand at the undead.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Ray of frost. (1d20+4)[*14*] to hit, for (1d8)[*1*] damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

The tolling of the black bell holds no sway over the fell magic clinging this abomination to its mockery of life. But Sarith's well-placed bolt through the skull shatters it and tears into the brain, doing enough damage to disrupt the necromantic matrix and collapse the thing back into whatever hereafter awaits it.

Derendil reaches out and sprays freezing magic onto the feet of the one still lurching towards them, further slowing it in the pit of spikes but doing minimal damage. Standing poised to strike with both blades, Borthan waits patiently, knowing it is already dead.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, but the dead do not listen.
Sarith headshots Quaggoth Zombie for *6* damage and a kill.
Borthan readies an action.
Derendil casts Ray of Frost, damaging the last zombie for *1* and slowing it.

Nilvae and Stool may yet act.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 23
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 11.5
*Nilvae/Stool* - 8.5

Quaggoth Zombies - 8

The Motley Crew - 6.5
*Derendil* - 6

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP:8/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

On the verge of crying again, Nilvae picks up a stone and chucks it at the zombie.

*Spoiler*
Show

16 to hit, 9 blunt damage.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Spike Growth 

Stool was hoping for a melee scrap, but instead maintains his deadly spell and extends his body yet again to finally lay the zombie to rest.

*Spoiler*
Show

8 necrotic damage due to Chill Touch, can't heal, disadvantage on attacks.



[/QUOTE]

----------


## RandomWombat

Crawling slowly forward, the quaggoth's organs spill out and are left in its wake as Stool's mystical spores eat away the decaying flesh on its face, revealing skull beneath. Eventually the onslaught puts it down, and it slumps to a rest with the others.

The hallway before them is a disgusting mess of heaped bodies, smeared gore, and dismembered limbs. It reeks of death, only lessened by the cool underdark temperatures not having rotted the day old quaggoth corpses a great deal yet. As things settle, Topsy hums to herself in thought.

Mr. Spide crawls back to Nilvae's side, as the gnomess comments, "That was certainly a _distraction_. Why in the deep dark did those bastards let _you_ go free?" she questions Nilvae skeptically.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

After Nilvae and Stool deal another *17* damage to the last zombie, it shreds itself down to 2 health Dashing slowly through the spike growth.

We can probably safely assume you put it down, and combat ends.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: Spike Growth 

Stool rushes away and scrapes a few iridescent fungi from a wall. Blue in color and formless, Stool stuffs them into his "mouth" and swallows them. He hums a deep and strained hum, as ten tiny glowing blue mushrooms appear below him. He hands Nilvae half of them, pocketing the others for later.

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting Good"mushroom" on a bit of fungi, if feasible.






*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Nilvae smiles at the tiny mushroom person, hugging his moist and sticky self, regardless of how dirty it seemed. She quickly pops the mushrooms in, feeling a certain healing magic - or was she just drunk? Regardless her many wounds itched, burned and hurt a little less now. And her stomach's growling stops too.

She raises elegantly, still a radiant being even when in her rags, her braided hair in shambles and her face covered in blood and dirt. I don't really know. The drow witch wanted Faedryl in exchange for myself. I agreed but then I remembered how nice she was to me and I said to myself, that she did not deserve that. We may have been lucky she did not know I could teleport...

She looks back a few dozen feet and sees the quaggoth bodies. So where are the drow? WHERE ARE THE DROW? she screams, panicking. There were two guards, Asha's sex toy guy and her acolyte. They are gone. They must have placed a spell on me. Or a hidden familiar. Or a demon!!! Nilvae panicks, starting to hyperventilate.

She is also starting to tear off the remaining rags that cover her body in search of a magic trinket, or tiny spider familiar, or similar.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan is almost disappointed that the quaggoth undead didn't even make it to him. It completely defeated the purpose of his excellent positioning he'd been patting himself on the back for. Stowing his blades, he looked upward from the rotting corpse to the tunnel beyond. Patting the mushroom on top of his cap to reveal his positioning, Borthan says Kid, you want to stop focusing on the nasty spikes? I wanna go follow the drow she's screaming about before they get too far. Before he leaves, however, Borthan moves invisible up to Nilvae. His particular stealth ability would be known to her, but he still didn't want to surprise her by touching her... especially while she was getting nekkid. Instead he spoke. Nilvae! Don't worry about ghosts in your clothes, you fool, just get dressed and fall in. We're gonna go back and kick those drow's asses. Looking to the casters, he assumes some of them, especially the ones conserving their more powerful spells, were wizards. He hadn't known many wizards, but he did know that without their book you could wear em down, one spell at a time, until they were easy to capture. And he wanted his damn axes. Right? We are still going back? If so, I'm gonna go catch up with the drow who were nice enough to bring Nilvae back to us.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil watched Nilvae's... episode... with hesitation. He reached out towards her, but, looking down at his clawed hand, wondered what comfort he could give this woman. Or any person, in this monstrous form. Perhaps his mind and words could soothe what ailed her. Speaking in perfect elvish, or as perfect as his fanged mouth could manage, he saidCalm down miss. You're safe..errrrr... with us. Finding his mind as useful in social situations as it ever was, he cursed himself inwardly and responded to the invisible man. I can't ask any of you to die for my spellbook... but I do vote we go back. And second that we send our invisible man ahead to scout the situation, if we do indeed go back. Which I support. Uh.... yes.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Nilvae jumps a bit, until the "spirit in her clothes" takes on a familiar voice. Haha, very funny, Borth. she says as she starts to put her clothes back on. It is a magic trick, it has to be! There is nothing on me otherwise. She sighs. Borthan gave her some clarity in the matter. Even if she was cursed by the drow witch, said spell was surely linked to her person and not her clothes or belongings. Back there? For a third time? Some times I begin to wonder who of us two is truly the mad one.

Nilvae smiles and stands up. Her eyes are looking for Faedryl. Are you positive you want to go back? The whole outpost is commanded to see you imprisoned. And I highly suspect to have been enchanted, or cursed, or be divined upon. She puts out her arms in a 45 degree angle waiting to be inspected. Show me the curse, Faedryl!





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Go back? No animal goes back to the cave of their captors. Why? Stool inquires. He ceases the magic and agrees. Go ahead, invisible man. Stool pauses to think, then you can feel the myconid sighing mentally. Stool will aid you against better judgment.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

Nilvae certainly did seem mad enough to be enchanted. "The quaggoths were dispatched quickly enough. If we can catch the drow, we should at least try to do so. Picking them off now will only help us in the future." She didn't care for Nilvae's loud outbursts, but she'd best put the mind at ease. "If you _are_ enchanted, then it's better to get it over with and remove the source of the problem, rather than flee or worry about it. Addressing it head on is the only solution to us." She'd prefer time to burn the quaggoth bodies to prevent them fighting the party a third time, but time was against them and catching the drow was more important. With an apparent agreement struck, she - and Sarith, quietly - follow behind Borthan.

----------


## RandomWombat

Taking off after the drow, Borthan climbs over the dead quaggoth, breaking into a run to catch up. But they must be moving quickly as well, because he doesn't see them ahead as he goes. Eventually he reaches the mouth of the great cavern Velkynvelve is hidden above, in a nest of spider webs among the stalactites.

From the cavern mouth to the lift is too far for him to see. But if he ventures closer, he sees a pair of drow being hauled up on the lift.


Behind him, the rest of the group moves steadily, now with Nilvae once more. And her pet spider, which crawls along peering at them with eyes that glint with more intelligence than they should. "We should probably figure out how we're getting _up there_," Topsy points out. She's still watching Nilvae with some suspicion towards her motives, as well.

"It's simple, my dear. Oh yes. We just have the spider carry us up one by one..." Buppido speaks up again, in his unnaturally smooth and almost melodic tone.

"Genius," the gnome responds with sarcasm that flies far under Buppido's radar.

*"Are you going to go first?"* Jimjar asks him.

"Naturally. These drow must be shown the error of standing in the way of my destiny."

*Spoiler: Nature DC 10*
Show

Nilvae's spider may be able to carry a few of them up along the walls and to the guard post bridge, using a web net. Whether it can be done without being detected is another story.

Ront and Derendil are definitely too heavy for even a spider as large as this to carry, though.


*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

The question of how to assail Velkynvelve is a difficult one. Even bypassing the first defense of knowing there is an outpost at all, it is built high above the cavern for the express purpose of making it next to impossible to attack. Even if they were somehow able to get someone up the lift, which can only be operated from above, the drow would undoubtedly be waiting. It would be like sending lambs to the slaughter.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

*"Much as I'd like to see you all flail about and die horribly,"* Sarith drawls, the smug in his tone unmissable even by the densest of fools, *"The drow will be watching the lift. Any who climb up there will be sitting webbirds, easily picked off. If you wish to show the outpost their error, you had best consider another plan."* Faedryl says nothing, but her expression is one of impatience and urging. It tells him enough on his own. *"Perhaps we could pretend to be captured prisoners once more, using some shifting magic, and disguises, and simply have them lower the lift for us, then all go up together and take them by surprise."* There were precious few avenues of attack on the outpost, by design, and their options were limited.




*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

"Alternatively, we have a relatively safe source of food that is...passable. The stores of the outpost are limited. If we destroy the lift, we could simply starve them out." She pauses to consider this further. They would have to leave the outpost by the same route that the prisoners had - the water, with the ooze, where the party might be prepared for them. *"Unless-* She cuts off Sarith. "Unless Ilvara or Asha have some way to conjure food, yes. Do they?" Sarith shrugs in response to her question. While she didn't expect him to have a full list of spells it would be nice if he knew _something_ so they weren't taken by surprise. If the priestesses could conjure food, then it raised a question why they were so reliant on the food stores. Perhaps it was simple drow arrogance and laziness. They kept the spells to themselves instead of sharing them with others. Would they let their troops starve? Probably not. That would cause rebellion to ferment.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: -

Trickery is my forte, but to be perfectly honest, I am not fond in leading the way into the spider's den once again, or try my basic tricks against two priests. If this assault should work, I might need my fey magic and my own magic book back.

Luckily I can summon mine from within the armory. I just need a knife. As Nilvae lends herself a dagger, cuts a strand of her blonde hair and pricks her finger. Now, how does this go again. And do I need a spider's fang for that or no? she half-jokes in Mr Spide's direction. She looks around the group. I need to figure this one out again. I am always so clumsy with finnicky things like that.

My plan is the following: We pretend to be drow guards, Bort and I. Between us, we project a gagged and bound Faedryl and Nilvae. Mr Spide's coloring should not matter at a distance.

*Spoiler*
Show

Requesting a short rest for HP, spell slots and finally getting my grimoire back.






*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool extrudes his spores once again. Stool will go look. Climb inside as lizard, tiny one. Then Stool can be anything. Spider-friend can carry us, Stool as Spider can too. With these words, the myconid's bodily features warp inward, turning his insides out, not that this was any different, eventually resulting in a discolored beige lizard. Stool shall be back soon.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

"Would your illusions travel up with the lift?" It's not an accusatory question to put the plan down, it's fact finding. In her experience illusions were generally fairly static once made, save the advanced constructs, and they'd be more likely to simply phase through the lift's floor than be carried up along with them, but if there was a way around that then that would certainly expand their options.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

We can claim the road got unblocked. Reinforcements on their way. Someone who can lie, anyway. Borthan nodded with Nilvae's plan, and he didn't discourage Stool's either. He wanted his damn axes back.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

I will wait for lift. Too heavy. Derendil's pidgin undercommon doesn't portray his anxiety fully, but his nervous shuffling might.

----------


## RandomWombat

"If the little mushroom can transform into wall-climbing lizards, maybe we don't need to assault the outpost at all," cuts in Topsy as they share their plans. "While the outpost is preoccupied with us out here, it could just sneak inside and get back our belongings."

Clicking his tongue, Buppido speaks in disagreement. "It would be such a disappointment to leave anyone here to trouble us later, if we can solve the problem all at once." Ront pounds a fist into his palm, the orc seemingly itching to pay back the drow who captured and drugged him as much as anyone here.

"Blubt if we slaubhter them all, you miss ble chance to conblimbse ble rank and file of your cause," Speaking up from near Faedryl, Shuushar appeals to her in particular. "Perhaps all we need is a chance to conblimbse _one_ of them."

*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

With the size of the lift, they would be able to send at most two people up with Nilvae and Borthan in disguise. And two people at most could go up with Stool and 'Mr. Spide' if they traversed the wall to reach the prison cells. Maybe more could fit somewhere if they double up on gnomes.


While they discuss plans, the lift is drawn back up, and the passengers get off at the top.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

"I'm not going to put us at risk for the sake of my own ideals. If they don't wish to listen to me then..." She sighs. "Well they made their choice, and we all have to live and die by our choices. If the lighter ones go with Stool and the spider, we can have everyone up top in only two lift trips, either under cover of deception or if one of us mans the lift while the rest hold off the attackers."

"Even though we - I - wasn't able to convince Asha, Ilvara doesn't know that. We can still play the two of them against each other, hopefully get them to waste some time and effort killing each other, then finish off the one that's left."

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Cavern*

Falling back into the mouth of the tunnel, far out of view of the drow darksight, the motley crew settles in to wait for Stool. Nilvae takes the time to sit and- well, calling it prayer would be strange, but it's not entirely meditation either. She conducts the ritual to conjure her Book of Shadows, while gathering her strength and allowing the well of magical allowance inside of her to recharge.

*The Outpost*

In the form of a slimy little cave gecko, Stool's sticky graspers climb easily up the walls of the cavern to the dizzying heights above. He can see that the bridge they burned down has been reconstructed, or at least a replacement rigged together out of spare wood and spider silk, now more of a suspension bridge. Ironically the silken railings that help hold it up probably make it safer than before.

None of the drow have noticed him climbing up, and he can see a pair in the guardpost. But instead he slips around to peek at the shrine. There he finds Asha standing outside of it with a few other drow. While he tries to crawl along the wall as naturally as he can approximate for the little reptile he appears to be, the drow officer spots him and reaches out to try and pluck him from the wall. Stool tries to slip out of his grasp, but he is apprehended by the tail and dangled in the air.

"Mistress, would you like me to grill it up for you?" he asks Asha, next to him. She glances over and makes a face at the sticky, dangling lizard.

*"No, eat it if you want,"* she waves a hand dismissively. The drow nods his head and begins walking past her towards the commons area, carrying the dangling lizard.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Stool has been Grappled by the Drow Elite.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful, Beast Speech (1h), Mask of Many Faces (1h, male drow guard) 
Concentration: -

Gaining a much needed breather, Nilvae calms herself aside from the inner turmoil the demons caused. She focussed, and a circle of fungi appeared around her. these so-called fairy rings where often known to be the places where the fey congregated; or powerful leylines combined themselves. From the middle of the circle, a mushroom slowly grows throughout the hour. It glows in every color imaginable, and when finished, it explodes into a cloud of spores, revealing a folio bound between two oaken rinds. Such a book was not known by mortals, and just a few selected binder of the fey and even fewer powerful druids got to see one of these. If Stool were present he would be amazed.

Regardless, Nilvae seems less than impressed and more annoyed by the long time the book needed to reappear. After she was finished, she took on the appearance of what she thought a less than noteworthy male drow would look like.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool tried to remain calm and tried to go through his options. Was this a lizard that could take off their own tail? Was this a poisonous lizard?

*Spoiler*
Show

Bite attack on self to bite off his own tail (taking me down from 2 to 1 hp), then move away to find a tiny hole to hide.
If that is not possible, I will use Pacifying Spores vs the drow Con save (1d20+1)[*11*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Outpost*

Detaching his tail, gecko-Stool drops from the drow's grasp. At first the drow doesn't even realize it still carrying the dangling tail between two fingers. Taking advantage of this, Stool slips inside of the shrine through the crack beneath the door- the only hole available to slink into. Inside he sees an undead spider standing perfectly still atop a pile of cushions, facing the door. But his presence has escaped its notice so far.

He's in.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rolled a Stealth for Stool in the Discord after he gets free. He got a *19*, beating everything's passive perception for now.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Avoiding the undead spider for now, Stool squeezes through the trap door presented. He would transform into a fungus person if unattended and stuff anything into his myconid pouch, then transform back.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Outpost*

From the trapdoor, a rope ladder descends into a lavishly furnished room crammed into the small space offered by the stalactite. The walls are draped with a black mesh resembling a spider's web, extending from a central spot on the ceiling to hang down like curtains. In two positions the web curtains can be pulled away to reveal arrowslit windows that overlook the cavern far below. Little peepholes from which the mistress can survey her domain. Beneath is the dark, clear water of the pond. A potential avenue of escape.

Thick, woven spider silk mats and pillows cover the floor, a low platform against one wall heaped with them to form a divan-like bed. It is presently messy and stinks of copulation. The mistress has not had time to clean since the prison break interrupted her session. At the foot of the bed sits a heavy wooden chest of black-stained zurkhwood, bound shut with a gleaming steel lock.

One corner of the chamber contains a wooden table and two cushioned chairs, with a silver-framed mirror set upon the wall behind it. Another holds a smaller shrine to Lolth draped in white silk. Near the smaller shrine is another trapdoor leading further below, this one lacking any of the blemishes that allowed Stool to slip through in lizard form. But there are no visible locks.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Lizard-Stool melts into a small puddle of greyish viscous liquid. From this liquid, quickly another small myconid forms, identical to the last. He checks the sanctum for keys or any other useable items, after which he checks the chest for any damages. 

*When I find a key:*
I open and loot the chest.

*When I find other loot:*
Describe it and I will decide if this is enough to help.

*If I find nothing and the chest cannot be pried open:*
I will continue throught the unlocked trap door.

*Spoiler*
Show

In order: Perception to find a key (1d20)[*13*] +5 if Perception -1 if Investigation. +3 if Wis (Investigation).
Using Shillelagh to grow in between any splint of the chest, casting the spell to pry it open (1d20+5)[*16*] (1d8+3)[*5*] (wis to attack and damage as per spell).

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Outpost*

After returning to his true form, Stool gives the room a once over. There is no sign of the key to the chest, but Stool finds a hidden compartment inside of the mirror which contains a few strange devices and concoctions the purposes of which his little mushroom mind can't really imagine.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Makeup and beauty products, such as lipstick and eyeliner.


Were he more familiar with the workings of this strange mechanism keeping the chest closed, maybe he could pop it open using some of these long, narrow things in the compartment. But instead he opts for the brute force approach.

Sliding the edge of the improvised club into the crack around the rim of the chest's opening, Stool channels magic into it to reinforce it and cause it to grow. It is suffused with green light that shimmers across its surface and he pries as hard as he can, working to keep it wedged in and not come loose. After some effort, there is the sound of something snapping and the lid pops open, giving Stool a look at what's inside.

*Spoiler: Chest*
Show

Inside is:
-Silk lingerie and dresses
-A ceremonial silver chain headdress, bearing several onyx stones
-A bag shut with a drawstring containing two bottles of red liquid
-A leather purse containing 24 gp, 30 sp, and a small moonstone
-A Spell Component Pouch
-A folded, black silk tablecloth
-A scroll marked with a wax seal depicting buzzing insects
-The party's starting equipment, all or most of it neatly contained in their backpacks!


As he looks over the spoils, however, Stool feels a numbness in his core. He detects a small, thin needle has shot out of the lock mechanism when he broke it open and jabbed into his body.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Stool takes *1* piercing damage from a trap (his Investigate found the hidden mirror compartment, but was too low to find the trap).
Stool must make a DC 13 Con save or be Poisoned for 1 hour. If he fails by 5 or more, he also falls unconscious.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 27/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool pulls out the little needles and licks it. _Hmm, tastes like poison._ he thinks and throws it away.

Stool sifts through everything, examining and "tasting" a few things. He knew liquids and gems could be potions or useful for rituals, but most exciting was the finding of the backpacks. He rummages quietly, only taking the bare necessities with him. He rearranges two backpacks with small light items including the gems, gold pieces, a spell component pouch, the two bottles, the scroll and the onyx bedazzled headdress.

He takes a gander at whether he is able to add the makeup and a decent dress for Nilvae with him (in that order), thinking the woman could at least need a bit between her and the environment as humanoids cover their skin so often. When done, he turns back into a lizard and exits.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Outpost*

As he rearranges things and stuffs the backpacks full, Stool finds there is plenty enough room for the strange products inside the mirror, as well as the fine black dress.

But that's where the good news ends. Stool hears footsteps above, approaching the trapdoor. No time to investigate the next floor below. Transforming, Stool climbs out through a tiny slit window and drops into the cold water below. Thankfully the papers and other water-soluble things are safely stowed inside of... wherever they go when he transforms.

*Regrouping*

After a tense wait, Borthan spots a little lizard crawling towards them from the water's direction. Nilvae is still performing her meditative ritual at this point, but is nearing completion. Between the climb and poking around the room, Stool was gone for a while.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Lizard-Stool produces a cloud of spores after which he summons his physical form from a puddle again, this time nearly twice as large as he has simply engorged a few backpacks in his "stomach". He vomits out a veritable smorgasbord of gear, along with lingerie, a bit of makeup, gems and a headdress. He takes the slimy dress to Nilvae and signals her mentally. For you!




*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful, Beast Speech (1h), Mask of Many Faces (1h, male drow guard) 
Concentration: -

Recalling her book took much out of Nilvae, and her new form was not surprising to Stool anymore. Taking the slimy dress, she tried to muster a smile, but looked at Faedryl with eyes that screamed 'Help me'. That was even too much for the insane half-elf. Now still proceed for the assault? she inquires, wanting Borthan's magic to be saved until the last second.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

She tries not to let her eagerness take over as Stool produces their equipment, but she spots her backpack immediately and crouches down by it, cleaning it of any slime or dirt with a small word and gesture. Absentmindedly, almost offhand, she does the same for the dress Nilvae is holding, without even looking up. It wasn't all here - her armour and weapons were missing, but they were easily replaced. No sentiment there. Poking, prodding, she eventually finds...yes. Her spellbook. Untouched, undamaged. The shapeshifting myconid had recovered it, along with her component pouch. She was back to full strength. She carefully stores the spellbook on her person rather than in her bag, letting the weight of it press against her like a reassuring hand. She barely listens as she stores her gear, feeling some real safety and security for the first time since her capture. So much of it had been bravado - not empty bravado, but hollowed slightly. Now she was whole again.

Finally, after a rude few minutes of not answering the question that she heard but ignored. "If we've got all the supplies we need back then I have an alternate idea - we bait down the lift and then I set it alight. Strand them in the outpost where they can't follow or harass us anymore. Maybe they starve. Maybe they don't, but if their only path down is through the ooze pool they'll probably choose to wait it out and spend days or weeks repairing the lift instead."

"I wouldn't mind the chance to erase Ilvara from our plate permanently, but they do have superior terrain on us. Since we've recovered our effects - mostly - it might be better to trap them and let them rot."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan grunted a Thanks, kid. to Stool and began going through his things, checking to see what might be missing. Armor gone, but that had been replaced. Longbow gone, but that was a lot more useful on the surface compared to down here. His searching became more frantic, until he got to the bottom of his bag, and then his smile grew. He withdrew two hatchets from his bag and spun them. One was inlaid with bronze depicting an angry faced shining sun, with the grey dwarf word for "sun" stamped into the haft. The other was inlaid with silver, depicting a moon with a wicked, evil grin, with "moon" stamped into the haft. They were perfectly sized and weighted for Borthan's grips. They were his most prized possessions. They were the only gift Vrek ever gave him. And they were his again. He strapped on his belts, which had two loops perfectly sized for the hatchets. Alright, alright, alright! I agree with Faedryl. Screw this place, screw the priestess, and screw working with the drow EVER again. He looked at Faedryl and Sarith for a second before adding Present company excluded.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil wordlessly searched for his own spell component pouch and spell book, and perhaps even more importantly a pair of rough pants that fit him better than the damn loincloth. Excuse me for a moment, please. He ducked out of sight and got changed, strapping his book and pouch to a roughshod belt. When he returned to the group, he looked at least a tad more civilized. I would be happy to put this place behind us, revenge or no.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 13/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: Beast Speech (1h)

Unarmored but actually fully dressed for once, Nilvae took a mental note not to apply her illusion too early. Well then. After we have hindered the drow, we should get a few miles between us and the outpost. After that, we should discuss what to do next. Because I am all out of ideas honestly. Stool squeals beside her and after a silent minute or so, Nilvae says: Stool asks us to guide him back home. He promised the community there and Psilofyr, their god, will aid us in our endeavors. He even will accept Sarith's presence if Borthan keeps an eye on him. Anyone got a better idea?





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool was glad to be of assistance, and happily hummed. With a bit of time between everyone else rummaging in their loot, he starts investigating the makeup and lingerie. He puts off his bucket armor and puts on the drow underwear, with the lacy bustier on top of his slimy head. After being done, he smells and licks the makeup, which turns a few parts of his now apparent intestinal system a decent dark-red.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

"We're in the Underdark, you'll never be rid of drow." Well, not unless the matron mothers stayed in control and continued the inevitable slump into drow failure only to have to rebuild their race. Again. "Since we're in agreement, lets get this over with. Keep out of range. Sarith, do the honours. Maybe smear some mud on you first before you go forward." She points him at the lift as she walks forward, dropping her stance from confident strides into a defeated slump. Quietly she clasps her hands behind her back, miming shackles around her wrists. If they could make her out from the top of the lift, they would see someone in custody.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

Part of him should bristle at the commands she's giving, but part of him finds following them as natural as breathing. He's conditioned to submit, even as half his mind chafes at the thought. Crouching, he scoops up mud and grime and smears at across his face and hair, dirtying it. Then he draws his crossbow, pointing it at the 'captured' Faedryl who he marches forward. *"Anyone up there?"* he coughs a hoarse voice, distinct from his natural speaking tone towards the outpost. Someone must be listening even if they had fewer troops. *"I've captured a traitor female."* He doesn't keep his eyes raised, dropping his vision to avoid anyone looking too closely at his face, even at a distance.

----------


## RandomWombat

Each of the other misfits steps forward to claim their belongings in turn.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Dworic and Eldeth's starting items are also here, including extra tinder, some extra rope, an old dwarven guard uniform, and a Gauntlgrym military scout's insignia of rank.


Buppido withdraws an old, stained white dress shirt and pants which he gleefully changes into. Thankfully he at least has the small measure of awareness to change his pants out of view of everyone else. He is less careful putting on the shirt. It is hanging open as he returns, buttoning it up. His dull grey chest is carved with a strange symbol. It is an oval, though the depth makes it appear to be a ring, with the shapes of seven gems set into it.

*Spoiler: Religion*
Show

Anyone who succeeded the previous Derro History check's highest tier know this automatically.

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

Could it be a crown?


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

The symbol is of Diinkarazan, the Mad God, a figure in Derro history and a significant part of their story of creation. Whether you know much more of that story or not is another question...

Anyone with trained History or Religion who previously failed to fully succeed the Derro check previously can retry it and take the better result.



*Spoiler: Perception*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

As he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt, you notice a strange bump beneath the cloth of his left sleeve, which seems stiffer than the other sleeve.


*Spoiler: DC 20, or DC 15 if also possessing SoH or Insight Proficiency*
Show

The sleeve likely contains a hidden compartment. Probably a blade, knowing this derro. The way he examines the cuff button suggests it is the trigger.



Plucking a crude pack made out of beast fur out of the pile, Ront looks inside and around, disappointed at the absence of his weapons. He frowns further when he looks inside, perhaps not everything is there. The drow probably ate or stored away any food in their possession already. Ront does pull out a fur cloak made to keep one warm in old climates, donning it.

Jimjar's pack clatters with the sound of dice. He stuffs some cloth in with them to silence their telltale rattling.

The twins retrieve Turvy's spellbook, his wand, and a backup spell component pouch. Topsy produces some lockpicking and trap disarming tools from her pack, which she examines for damages. She also checks the condition of a collapsible spyglass with a green crystal lens. Satisfied both are in fine condition, she stows them away. There is a set of pots, pans and cooking utensils hanging off of the outside of her hiking pack, already muted with protective rubber coating to prevent them from making noise clanging together. 

*Spoiler: Know Arcana DC 12*
Show

The spyglass is a Darklens, a useful artificer invention coveted by Underdark explorers, which doubles the user's range of vision in the dark and magnifies things that are far away. 

It offers little help to those without darkvision, only allowing them to see within about 10 feet as if they had darkvision. The zoom is too disorienting at that range to be useful in a fight.


Though his pack is the lightest, little more than a waterproof pouch, Shuushar still takes out some ointment and applies it to his scales. It seems to be to treat dryness when away from the water.


"A much more sensible plan than climbing up the wall hanging from some spiders," voicing her agreement to Faedryl and Borthan's plan, Topsy puts her backpack back on. "Taking refuge with the myconids isn't the worst idea. But we'll either have to charter a boat with the fishmen or walk around the entire Darklake."

If Shuushar takes offense to the term 'fishman' he doesn't show it. "My peoble are troububbled, but not violent."

"If this is not the time for their downfall, it will come yet," vaguely murmurs Buppido, finished buttoning his shirt.


Taking Faedryl behind him 'in shackles', Sarith approaches the lift. A voice calls down from above not long after, carried down through the echoing cavern, "Have you now? And who are _you_? None of _my_ men are unaccounted." Ilvara's voice, no mistaking it.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Sarith can roll Deception. Depending on how believable his story is he may have Adv or Disadv, so roll twice.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

He glances to the side at Faedryl, but she couldn't speak or move. Sarith was on his own. He coughs loudly, spluttering slightly. *"Honoured Priestess, I am Treldal, of Menzoberranzan. Our patrol was sent to check and reinforce the outpost, but on the way we encountered a group of escaped slaves. They were prepared and armed for a fight. Only I survived from my squad. And only this one,"* Sarith kicks out at the back of Faedryl's knees, forcing her down onto them with a grunt of pain, *"I caught. Two more fled into the dark. The rest were killed."*




*Spoiler: Deception*
Show


(1d20+2)[*10*] Dis/Adv: (1d20+2)[*9*]

----------


## RandomWombat

There is silence, above. Then Sarith hears a buzzing begin to swell in the air around him as the priestess responds at last. She steps out onto the platform above personally, gazing down at them, and it seems as though the plan may go smoothly. Here, for a moment, she is perhaps vulnerable. But then, she speaks coldly, "I was wondering why you sounded so familiar. You have a very particular way of saying 'priestess'... _Kzerkarit_."

Streams of shadow gather around them in ribbons, flickering red light leading them like little will-o-the-wisps. They take form quickly into loudly buzzing insects, a thousand black-shelled locusts with blazing red eyes and too many legs, bumping and crawling upon the two drow. Wherever they find skin, soft fabric, any kind of weakspot they bite. A thousand bites tearing flesh, leaving bleeding pock marks and searing pain.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Sarith and Faedryl risk *13* damage. DC 14 Con save to halve damage.

They may each act now. The others are currently quite far away, out of sight of the drow.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 9/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl jerks back, batting away at the biting, stinging insects as she rushes out of the cloud to safety. She'd felt worse in the past, much worse, but it still hurt, and she's out of breath from the pain once she finally does escape the insect's grasp. She wanted to lash out in anger, toss a spell to the sky, but the priestess was out of range, and nothing she did would be quite as devastating at this distance. Fine. It's fine. She just needs to focus on turning it around. "Ah, a shame, we'd hoped to meet you on our terms, but it looks like we'll have to go with our backup plan!" She calls up to the priestess as they continue to move away from any further spells. She doesn't elaborate further - mostly because they don't have a backup plan. It's solely to sow distrust and paranoia, though that could be a plan all on its own.

She returns to the group worse for wear, though despite the pain she refuses to let her stride be broken. She's short and to the point, which one could interpret as shame, or simply not wanting to mince words on what is now in the past. "Didn't work out as planned. Shall we go?" The only ones who'd suffered for it had been Faedryl and Sarith, and they were otherwise in the same situation as before. She doesn't comment or draw attention to the injuries. They would heal on their own, and much as it would pain her to admit it, her pride requires she move on.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

He's comparatively unhurt, at least relative to Faedryl. A trained body lets him slip out of the cloud of buzzing anger with only a few bites here and there. He doesn't add to Faedryl's words. He'd already said enough. He's quiet afterwards. Ruminating silently on what had transpired. 

Absent anyone else taking up the dwarven insignia, Sarith scoops it up silently and slips it into a pocket, such that it sits alongside his own, out of sight. Sentimentality. Pointless. But he can't stop himself. There's disappointment in his steps, frustration in his wake. An attempt had been made and he had failed. Again. Like so much else. She would tell him that it didn't matter so long as he still lived, and that there would be more opportunities. She would tell him that it was just another harsh lesson to learn, and beyond that it could be left learned in the past. She didn't even seem upset by his kicking her (and she wasn't, it had been a necessary part of the attempted deception). His fists squeeze tight on air. It was so easy for her to abandon what was lost and move on. Even now she sailed past the failure - _his_ failure - without a word of criticism or complaint.  Her acceptance stung more, worse than the insects, even as he tried to bury it under a layer of 'pointless' and inevitability. He could have simply stayed in the insect cloud and let them take him, but he'd followed her. _Again._ 




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Faedryl failed, Sarith succeeded.
Sarith second winds for a massive +2 hit points to bring him back up to 19/23.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan eyes the insect stings and bites when Faedryl returns, but for once he keeps his smart mouth shut. No need to antagonize her when he was in such a good mood for having his axes returned. Wordlessly he took his position at the front of the group and began to scout ahead, invisibly, in case there were any new threats to pop up behind them on the way to the bridge. 




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil falls in near the front of the group, ready to leap forward should new threats arise.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: Beast Speech (1h)

Nilvae offers the drow mage a handful of enchanted fungi, half of what Stool had offered her before. Eat those, they will mend your wounds and quell your hunger. Don't fear the myconid's magic, just don't expect them to taste like anything you've ever eaten before.

This has just not been our day, tenday, or even month, eh, Faedryl? A warm yet broken smile shows up on the shaken elf girl's face, wanting to get to know Faedryl better. We should get going.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool stays back, and tries to describe to the tracker where their grotto lies. I not hear the direction where song of Psilofyr comes from. I smell and hear song in stone, but I not feel where from. Run from drow for now, think and guide later.

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## RandomWombat

As the two return, with Faedryl badly stung, Shuushar steps forward alongside Nilvae to tend to her wounds. Sarith at least avoided the worst of the damage, skillfully protecting his vital areas. The kuo-toa lays a webbed hand upon some of the bites that tore into veins and are bleeding a worrying amount, mending them shut with magic. The magic mushrooms Stool had produced earlier would mend the remaining wounds well enough.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Shuushar heals Faedryl for *11* hit points as well.


Ront looks back up into the darkness where the outpost lurks far above, disappointment clear on his face. But as the rest of the group trudges away, he begrudgingly turns his back on their vengeance as well.

Now-familiar tunnels are traversed again. The damp darkness is picked clean of any easy edibles after their last trip through, up until they cross the old, rickety (now older and ricketier) bridge back into their fungal campsite. There are still plenty of fungi here that would be edible, some raw but others would require cooking them. Whether they decide to rest here again or simply gather edibles and move on, no new dangers lurk within the small grotto of safety.

"We should definitely drop the bridge now," Topsy suggests after the last of them cross over.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

She accepts the enchanted mushrooms with a nod of thanks, tossing them back into her mouth and swallowing with barely a chew. That, combined with Shuushar's ministrations have her flexing her neck muscles as the pain washes away. This was what it meant to not be alone. Help where it was needed, even without asking. It was alien to her dear Mother. When, one day, the end came for Matron Ahlysra, would she think back to Faedryl and reflect? Quietly, the young arcanist doubts it. "I've had worse days." She tries to wave it off with a glimmer of truth. "And better." She adds after a moment. "But we're still all alive, and thanks to..." She looks at Stool, perhaps acknowledging its efforts in recovering their gear for the first time properly. She didn't, however, commits its name to her memory. "...our friend we have had the return of our equipment. Despite what just happened, I'd say things are looking up for us all." She doesn't smile when she says it. Despite the sincerity and upbeat concepts, it doesn't feel like a smiling moment. Not yet, anyway. 

Once they've crossed the bridge, she nods in agreement with Topsy's suggestion. There was nothing back there for them now except pain. If Ilvara or Asha wished to pursue then they could do so the long way around. She quietly traces the symbols to summon a fire on the far side of the bridge, closest to the outpost. It crackles to life the moment she seals the magic with her name, steadily working its way through the ropes and wood. Once it's burned through and drops to the water she repeats the process for the close side. Replacing the bridge would require significant effort now. It gave them a chance to breathe and discuss next steps, long term and otherwise. 

"I suppose we should discuss future plans, thrown together as we are. For myself I'd like to be rid of the Underdark for a while. Though I've read that the surface world isn't particularly kind to drow, I expect an odd peasant lynching is still preferable to staying where we're being actively hunted by soldiers. Does anyone know - and I want to stress '_know_', not simply 'guess' - of a route to the surface?"




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 19/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: -- 

Sarith, for his part, refuses the mushrooms even when offered. He was still healthy, and whatever magic they might have would be better saved for later. His soldier's instincts told him that much. 

When Faedryl brings up leaving the Underdark he grimaces, even as he understands the wisdom in her words. Down here they were hunted and likely couldn't find sanctuary anywhere for long. Any who might shelter them would just as quickly give them up in the face of a concerted drow raiding party - they simply were not worth the effort. A group of runaway prisoners with no money, no connections, and little to trade in other than labour, be it hard or otherwise. Added to that, he doesn't actually know a route to the surface. None that would help, anyway. He withdraws the dwarf's insignia that he pocketed earlier. *"Gauntlgrym might have a path to the surface."* It was a long shot that they'd even be able to get close, but perhaps the two that left them, plus the slaves they escorted, were their ticket to freedom.

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## RandomWombat

*"I fell down a tunnel,"* Ront says roughly, pointing one finger up. *"Could find again? Would have to climb a long ways. But we have, spiders?"* the orc suggests, perhaps taking some inspiration from Buppido's harebrained scheme.

"I should very much like to return to Gracklstugh. The duergar will not part easily with their secret paths and passages to the surface but..." the smooth-spoken derro smiles and adjusts the collar of his dress shirt. "I do have ways to find things."

Scoffing, Topsy shakes her head. "I'd rather not end up in deep dwarf slave shackles. I say we follow the mushroom's plan for now. Go to the myconid grove, and from there we can get to Blingdenstone without crossing too close to Menzoberranzan. I- we have contacts there." she looks at her brother, who nods shyly.

"I blublieve I can helpbl charter passage in Sloobludop," offers their kuo-toan healer.

The only one without any real suggestion seems to be Jimjar, who is humming a tune and playing with a coin, flipping it up into the air and then catching it on the way down. Peering down at the back of his hand, he peels it off and looks at the coin underneath and smiles.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

A sigh of disappointment goes through Borthan as the bridge burns up. _You try to do something nice for everyone in the underdark and it ends up going up in smoke._ He gave a silent whisper of thanks to whoever built the bridge in the first place. It had served them well.

Borthan runs through his own favorite passages to the surface over a few quiet minutes, realizing quickly that none of them are close, most of them were dangerous for a group this large to use, and many of them ran through Grey Dwarf territory. Vrek's word of honor had kept any other dueregar from trying to enslave Borthan again, but the others in his group had even less than that scant protection available to them. They'd be dead or in chains in a matter of moments were they discovered. Shaking his head clear of these troubling thoughts, Borthan spoke up. No ways up and out of here come to mind. Given our options, either I agree with Stool and the twin's plan. Myconids will probably leave us alone at the very least for returning one of their own, might even point us in the right direction. And deep gnomes may be paranoid, xenophobic, and reclusive... he coughs and smiles at Topsy, Turvy, and Jimjar by way of apology. present company excepted... but again, returning some of their own might give us a foot in the door and a point in the right direction. Also let's those of us not interested in seeing the sun a chance to get somewhere they might find safe. Seems like it would work for everyone. Am I right?




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil gave his opinion in undercommon first before switching to elvish. I want to go to the surface, and I'll follow anyone going in that direction. He cleared his throat and added in the fare tongue Gauntlgrym sounds promising, if anyone can get us there. I certainly trust the reputation of dwarves more than... other species we might find down here...

----------


## RandomWombat

Catching Borthan's look, Topsy snickers and shrugs. "Not wrong. But we're no slavers, and Blingdenstone is barely a city anymore. There's no law to kick you out." Seeing some of the others might not be familiar, Turvy explains in a small voice, "Our people sided with the dwarves against the drow in the Battle of Keeper's Dale. Even though we won the battle, the drow came to Blingdenstone later and they sieged and sacked the city."

"Some help the dwarves were then. They took in refugees, but those of us left pick over scraps in the ruins," pushing off of the wall, Topsy starts walking again. "Wherever we're going, the fishmen seem like our first stop. And a boat will help us throw off the priestess when she inevitably comes after us."

Anyone who'd taken a breather while the bridge burnt down packs up their things and begins walking again. Buppido is wearing a solemn frown, contrasted against his usual dissonant serenity, perhaps disappointed they will not be helping him get to Gracklstugh.


The winding pathway curves onwards, past the fungal campsite. There is more of the same here, short offshoot passages that Borthan scouts and finds either lead nowhere or have caved in at some point and never been cleared. Nooks and crannies where strange mushrooms grow and small animals lurk, providing sustenance on their journey.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Borthan finds enough food passively through Ranger, but can roll Survival to see if he collects anything useful.


After what feels to Borthan like about a day's travel, they come upon an open, grey beach. It is not the Darklake; this he would know, they are still quite far off. Mossy black dunes look out over a modest lake of clear water, into which the river they crossed must feed.

They are not alone here. There is a small booth set up, constructed of scavenged planks of zurkhwood haphazardly thrown together. Here sit two goblins. One of them is short, even for a goblin, with a sharp spear-like face and ears that thrust out high and proud like an elf's. He's decked out in a leather cuirass and has a wooden shield resting on his back. Behind the desk, a sheathed scimitar can be spied resting at his side. He drums the tabletop in boredom until they arrive, when his ears perk up even higher.

Beside him is a taller goblin, of portly figure, with a massive unnaturally long neck that hangs in folds around the collar of his blue shirt and the leather cuirass he, too, wears overtop of it. He's holding a grey mouse in one hand and feeding it a small piece of mushroom. His eyes are soft, with a contented and quiet look on his face.

Behind them is an old rusty metal pull wagon whose wheels have been replaced with sleds. On it rests an armoire that looks nearly too large for it, and several gourds with stoppers in them. On the front of their wooden booth it reads 'WEB RUNNERS WONDER EMPORIUM'.

*Spoiler: Goblins*
Show

*Short Goblin*





*Tall Goblin*






"Weelcome, weelcome, customers!" the shorter goblin sits up in his chair, rubbing his hands together.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

Just walking on its own was relaxing at this point. They had safety in numbers, she wasn't on the imminent run from anyone or anything, and she didn't need to look over her shoulder ever thirty seconds. They had a plan - or the makings of one. Maybe if she could get together some coin she could find the ritual components to recall Ryld'aer. They weren't exactly talkative but it would be the last piece she needed to return herself to full strength. 

When the goblins greet them, she's the first to move closer and return the greeting in kind. "Greetings to you both, though I'm not sure we're customers just yet." It's delivered with the practiced polite etiquette that she was taught as a scion of a Drow House. She is - _was_ - nobility after all. A detached, but amiable tone. "I'm guessing you are the Web Runners." She notes their sign with a polite nod. "What wonders do you sell here?" She's aware that she's giving the goblin an opportunity to launch into a salesperson's speech, no doubt to talk up the amazing things that their wares could do. She'd just have to hope that they could cut through the hard sell and pick out anything that was actually of worth, with the rather large caveat that there was something of worth to them. They didn't need much furniture at the moment, no matter how large the armoire might be.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: Beast Speech (1h)

For a short moment Nilvae wasn't sure if this was one of Puck's illusions. Then again, her patron's power did not really reach down here. A merchant? In the middle of nowhere? she asked herself, then shrugged. She just fled a drow encampment from demons and undead, and she is planning to meet fish people in order to find a grove of mushroom people. Her last month was less weird than happening upon a slightly sleazy merchant in the middle of the underdark.

Well, if you have a bit of survival gear, I am all ears. Show up what you got. I would need something to cover my vital areas, a knife and a sling, please. We are wanderers in need of a few things. We have happened upon a bit of discarded drow weaponry in turn.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool seeemt sad. As no one really heeds him attention, he just responds to the continued discussions on where to go. Stool really likes you. But for Stool's kind surface is deadly. Will help reach anything down here, but cannot go surface.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan keeps silent, eyes searching the surrounding area for any sign of ambush or trap. He didn't trust goblins. None of his experiences in the past had given him an impression that they were anything but conniving and dangerous. Even if they didn't have some attack planned, he doubted that their financial encounter with them would lead to any new information on the species. 




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil was intrigued by this small display of entrepreneurship, but tempered his interest with the knowledge that he didn't have very much money, and he didn't see any of his companions with heavy, bulging purses either.

----------


## RandomWombat

"Ah yees, we got survival gear," the spear-faced goblin answers. The long-necked goblin's head bobs up and down quietly in agreement. Spear-face scoots his chair back and takes a wooden trunk from under the booth, opening it up. He sets out a coil of fifty feet of silk rope; it comes with a belt clip, a set of 4 pitons and a small hammer as part of a climber's kit. Then he pulls out an old wooden spoon and sets it on the table. He next lays out three knives: a butter knife, a folding jackknife, and a butcher's cleaver with a rusty blade. And lastly he takes out a slingshot and a bag of small, polished round stones.

"We allow trade eens, yees," the spear-headed goblin answers, not seeming to care much that they are drow, misplaced or otherwise. The long-headed goblin's head bobs up and down quietly in agreement. "We also have veery nice clothing for the nice drow lady." The long-headed goblin's head bobs up and down again as his partner opens up the armoire, displaying a rack of clothing. On it are a pair of garish purple overalls, a simple but extremely high quality red dress, a pair of black high heeled shoes that look eerily similar to Ilvara's, a lady's handbag made out of golden lizard scales, and a black tophat.

*Spoiler: Survival Gear*
Show

Climbing Kit: 10 gp
Wooden Spoon: 5 gp
Butter Knife: 5 gp
(Does not appear useful as a weapon)
Folding Knife: 5 gp
(1d3 damage, Adv to hide on one's person)
Rusty Cleaver: 10 gp
(Handaxe)
Slingshot and 10 Sling Stones: 5 gp
(1d3 damage, 30/60 range)


*Spoiler: Clothing*
Show

Purple Overalls: 10 gp
Fancy Red Dress: 15 gp
Ilvara's Shoes?: 15 gp
Gold Scaled Handbag: 15 gp
Black Tophat: 10 gp

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

This was hardly the time, place, or situation to be dolling herself up, and even if the dress matched her eyes the shade was completely wrong for her skintone. It was too much to have hoped that they had a map or some scrolls, perhaps a scavenged spellbook they didn't understand the value of. No matter. There would be other opportunities, she was sure. The shoes weren't made for long walks in the Underdark, but perhaps she could make use of them some other way that she hasn't yet considered. She withdraws the (sharpened) carnellian that she had reclaimed from Buppido, and the steel mirror from her possession. It would probably not serve her better than the shoes in the Underdark. "I offer an exchange then: This gleaming gemstone and a mirror of steel, in place of those shoes."



*Spoiler: Trade offer*
Show


Carnellian - 10gp + Steel Mirror - 5gp for the shoes.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

I know I'm going to miss out on a lot of fun bets with Jimjar being flat broke, but I could use a new jackknife. Borthan hands over the last of his gold for the small folding knife. He hoped he'd be able to whittle with it, assuming he ever saw carvable wood again. 




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil's eyes linger over the red dress, but he shakes his head at the goblin's wares.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: Beast Speech (1h)

Nilvae being slightly miffed was an exaggeration. She did not expect much, if anything at all, but that display of wares was pitiable. Of course she grew in the vicinity of Waterdeep, which brought a bit of wealth even to the surrounding hamlets even if the greater goods stayed in the city. But this was bad stuff, even for the standard of a poor farmer girl like the half-elf. She sighs as not to insult the goblin's wares. She took her magical book and recited a small formula, a bit of subtle glitter floated around her person accentuating her form naturally. I'll take the climbing gear, and let me just check the handbag, please.

I know a good merchant does not sell his secrets, but may I just inquire if these goods are stolen or how did you find them? I am terribly sorry, but goblinkind hasn't had the best reputation when it comes to that. But I will take your word for it. Much of it is not sturdy enough for our use, and much too overpriced. Can't you do something in that front, my dear?

Nilvae leans forward, kissing the smaller goblin on its head.

*Spoiler*
Show

On the off chance the bag is magic, I'll take it. If not, just the climbing gear in exchange for the cart Dr Donk pulled.

Persuasion(1d20+6)[*20*] with Guidance (+1 if applicable).

----------


## RandomWombat

Taking the gemstone, the spear-headed goblin bites it as if it were a coin. "Yup. Theets a gemstone." The long-headed goblin bobs his head up and down. He finishes feeding his mouse and takes out a small bowl filled with soft cloth, tucking the tiny animal into bed.

Plucking the mirror from Faedryl's hands, the spear-headed goblin admires himself in it, checking his teeth. Tiny, sharp little needles, in remarkably good condition. For a goblin. "Gotch'eeself a deal," setting the two trade items aside, he picks up the pair of high-heels and hands them to Faedryl across the booth counter. The material is firm, but soft, with the sole and heel hard and sleek with a dark sheen.

Borthan steps up next and the spear-headed goblin tests the gold coins just as he had the gemstone. "Yup. Theets a gold." The long-headed goblin bobs his head up and down. The small folding knife is placed in Borthan's open palm, the material light and cool against his skin.

Chuckling from nearby, Jimjar raises an eyebrow at Borthan. *"I take credit. It's all up here. And don't you worry, Jimjar always pays his debts,"* the cheerful gnome says as he points to his forehead.

Grinning up at Nilvae, the goblin shrugs noncommittally. "I don't eesk where yee's got yeer drow weepons, do I?" When Nilvae leans down to kiss him on his forehead, she finds his skin quite dry. The goblin flushes a deeper yellowish-orange around the cheeks and chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. "Weeell. I could throw een my peersonal map. Ye meemorized it alreedy yee?" He elbows his business partner, whose head bobs up and down quietly like a small novelty figurine.

The Web Runners accept the exchange of Nilvae's cart for the climbing gear. The spear-headed goblin admits it's a little more valuable than the climbing stuff, so the handbag is only 10 more gold if she wants that too. And he hands the group a remarkably well-drawn map of the Darklake and surrounding area, including some of the known passages.

*Spoiler: The Web Runners' Map*
Show

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl takes the shoes with a quiet nod, stepping away from the trader to one side to allow others to conduct their business and buy her a little space. Holding both shoes in one hand she uses her other to quietly trace the runes for _Reveal, Secret, Arcane,_ and mutters an incantation. Her eyes flash white with arcane light as her vision shifts over from solely natural to include the first level of magical spectrums. It was a long shot, but perhaps there would be something revealed within the items, or elsewhere. It was as good excuse as any to take a peek at her companions, and see if they were hiding any magic of their own. Though her gleaming eyes stay fixed on the shoes, her sense is already wandering to peek at the other things on offer also. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Spending my warlock spell slot to cast Detect Magic immediately - on the shoes, and anything else within 30', which should cover everything.

----------


## RandomWombat

With Nilvae showing no further interest in the weapon, Topsy throws down some gold coins and picks up the slingshot, giving the rubber band a stretch and examining it. "Might as well have a backup for if I lose my knives."

The goblin tests her coinage as well and finds it acceptable, scooping it into his coinpurse. "Another sateesfied customer."

*Spoiler: Faedryl's Detect Magic*
Show

With the exception of the climber's hit, which is merely a used Underdark climber's kit in decent condition, everything on display shows signs of magic. But they are all faint, practically uniformly so. There is little potency in their magic.

The armoire itself displays a much more potent aura of magic.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

She blinks twice, the glow vanishing from her eyes as she does so as she lets the spell drop. Whatever minor enchantments were wrapped up in the items would reveal themselves in time, and she wasn't going to push the point on the goblins about the details of their armoire. Their secrets were their own. She stores the shoes away - she'd have time to unravel their magical mysteries later, ready to move on. Unraveling the magic would come later.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae*
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: fearful 
Concentration: Beast Speech (1h)

Nilvae bows courteously. I thank you noble creatures for this useful map. You are clearly as smart as you are handsome. The half-elf could not help but giggle a bit. There were rays of humor and sunshine down here, even if they were crusty simple-minded goblins.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:13
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan stowed the jackknife in the pocket of his pants, then took the time to remove a sleek, black fur cloak from his bag. He loosely  tied it around his neck using what looked like furry tentacles with barbs on them that served to fasten the knot. He looked quite a bit more stylish wearing the displacer beast cloak, and he wore it with pride. Ready to go when y'all are.

----------


## RandomWombat

*A Brief Respite*

With purchases made, the motley says farewell to the goblin entrepreneurs and carries on. Past the open beach the tunnel closes in again, bringing them together in single file. After traveling a little further it comes time to set up camp, though there isn't much room for a proper campsite in the cramped tunnel. Though not exactly comfortable, the rest afford them time to cook a small meal with the meager moss and lizards Borthan has been able to scrounge up to keep them from going hungry.

Using some of the leftovers from her and her brother's share, Topsy makes some strips of dried lizard meat for herself and Turvy to take on the road. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Anything the party wishes to do during a Long Rest can be accomplished. It can be assumed that at least one of the component pouches retrieved has a pearl in it, if anyone has or prepares Identify.


*The Infested Crossing*

Come the next 'day', the journey resumes. Not long after starting to move again, the motley finds themselves approaching a more open area, the ceiling of the cavern scaling upwards as their passage widens, all of them now comfortably able to move.

Any bitterness at not using this area as a more comfortable campsite is banished as the state of the place becomes more clear. Large patches of bubbling, green slime coat the floor, and some of the walls. To their right is a rope ladder hanging down to a lower level of the tunnel, the passage it leads to filled with slime and the sound of moving water not far from where they are. A worn rope ladder hangs down, the bottom of it sizzling and partially melted by the slime it's dangling in which has yet to overtake and consume the rest of the ladder in its entirety.

There appear to have once been lamps in sconces along some of the walls, suggesting a major road or crossroads ahead. But they have all been melted by acid. The area ahead is dark, not that it troubles the motley very much.

*Spoiler: Darkness*
Show

There are no light sources here besides the party's, but even one light as dim as a candle enables Darkvision to see normally for its full range.


*Spoiler: Nature*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

The slime appears to be acidic. Probably don't want to step on it.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

This is Green Slime, a common hazard in the damp places of the underdark. But it normally does not grow and spread to such prolific lengths, particularly not in well-traveled roads. It is easy enough to kill and clear away with fire, cold, or harsh light that it rarely poses a problem.

Green slime can eat through non-magical materials like wood and metal, or clothing, damaging equipment.


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

Green Slime is not known to grow on the floor like this. It is, in essence, a very simple and immobile ooze. Green Slime usually grows on the ceiling and drops down on unwitting animals or travelers when it senses movement.



*Spoiler: Passive Perception*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 13*
Show

Coiled among the stalactites, some patches of the slime can be seen above as well.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

There are mounds beneath some of the slime. The consumed remains of animals and, more worryingly, humanoids. Only the bones remain. Some remains are even lodged in the patches of slime on the ceiling.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire (1 minute)

Once they set down and make camp, Faedryl spends her time on watch duty (while not trancing) inspecting and unweaving the magic stitched into the shoes. Even without a specialist spell she should be able to deduce their nature with time.

When they come to the slime cavern after their rest, she grimaces. Disgusting. That it was allowed to grow and runamok like this was a disgrace. If the drow actually mustered themselves together they could conquer the Underdark. This could be a thriving trade route, patrolled by elite guards. Instead it was left to rot, while the best and brightest of her people did the same to petty infighting.  "Fire, frost and bright light will clear the way. This ooze consumes near anything that isn't wrapped in magic - including wood and metal. Do not touch it if you can help it." She delivers the information as a teacher would to students. Patient, instructional, but direct. They would learn or they would not, and once the information was given it was up to them to heed it. "Sarith, make use of this." She tugs a piece of wychwood from her pouch and throws it to him. He was a trained drow soldier, he would be able to use it. That done, she quietly recites the words to create a fire that will burn them a path forwards further down the main road. Even if they decided to take the rope ladder this would still be a useful service to those who would come after. Pest control. It's not how she saw her life going, but there is a small thrill that trills in the back of her chest at being quietly useful like this.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Should be able to short/long rest identify the shoes even without an Identify spell.

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire. Under the assumption that we don't come under attack, she'll continue to do so to burn a path forward.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Dancing Lights (1 minute) 

He catches the chunk of wood without issue from Faedryl, and understands the implication. While only some drow pursued their magical gifts, all warriors were given some measure of instruction in their use of it, and he was no exception. His spellcasting is far more utilitarian than hers - a quick gesture and a quick word. No ornate glowing runes, no called incantations. It was minimalist, the better to be concealed by dark and distance in the gloom of their home. Still, the spell works just the same. Pinpricks of light grow on the slime in the area from his spell, shedding bright light around them as they grow into full torches though they burned no smoke and release no heat. He keeps hold of the small piece of wood for now, to allow him to recast it again and again as necessary to clear a way towards the rope bridge. It would keep their options open. 




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Sarith uses drow racial to cast Dancing Lights, aiming to clear the path to+down the rope ladder from slime.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration: Beast Speech (1h)

The past days have not been easy for the surface elf. Nilvae sat next to the fire, trying to deceiver her grimoire of Puck. It was one half ramblings of a mad man, one half insane sketches of little bunnies that slowly transformed into eldritch abominations on the page, and a third half just weird incantations. Nilvae got regular headaches and migraines from it, other than it possibly adding to her unstable mental state. After a while, her eyes tired, as she did herself, and she took to sleeping with the book dangerously close to the flames.

She dreamt weird things. One focus of her dreams were demons and drow. The drow took her captive, threw her in the darkest hole they could find and left her to rot. The demons took her, crushed her, dropped her down a dark hole, and one demon....just ate her eyes. Gouged them out, savoring them like a good cherry or berry, and bit down on them. She heard snickering, loud slurping and suddenly felt something poke into her side.

She woke up to mad chittering of her favorite spider-donkey, fearing what crawled in the back. Muttering a few long-ingrained magic words, Nilvae make sense of Mr Spide's panic. It hid behind her, and she hear a loud smacking. Now wouldn't that be a feast. A thousand eyes per skull, with more to pop on the other side. A slender figure revealed itself from the shadow cast by the burning book. Nilvae panicked, as her grimoire was damaged, trying to throw sand onto the flames. She knew it was too late as the pages already crumpled and it flickered in the slight wind the tunnels provided. The strange creature snapped its tiny claws, and the fire went out. Oh you mortals, ever the worrier about power, about not being blinded. _'Oh no, I have three children, I need my eyes.'_ they beg.

The tiny imp-like creature coughs. Anywho, I'm Eyegore, and Puck sent me. Some garbled nonsense about Underdark. I thought he was screwing with me. You guys really call this Underdark? How unimaginative. Nilvae is flabbergasted, but she feels an odd safeness around the newly spawned creature. If you're twitching for some eye balls, but haven't acted yet, it means you are bound to me. she suddenly exclaims, with a mad grin on her face. Yeah, that'll certainly do.



Eyegore investigates, and it snaps its little fingers and suddenly the light of Faedryl's bonfire doubles. It flares up and most people need to shield their eyes from the sudden influx of light. Nilvae herself keeps back. It just burns away easily enough. Still, light helps.




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

I do not like light. Stool tries to send its spores to "eat away" the slime.

*Spoiler*
Show

cast Chill Touch on the slime.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:13
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:

Borthan watches Faedryl set about burning the green slime out of their path. Lemme know if you need a hand. I've got some torches in my bag that would probably eat this stuff up real quick. He kept his eyes upward, ready to push his companions out of the way or warn them if they moved underneath a slime.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Disgusting. Derendil's feline face recoiled in an angry hiss as he did his best to avoid stepping in goo.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire (1 minute)

"I will have a path cleared 'fore long," Faedryl reassures Borthan. "Keep an eye out for ambushers instead. Seems like a fine spot for a surprise attack."

----------


## RandomWombat

*A Brief Respite*

As their rest is disturbed by Nilvae's brief panic, Topsy eyes her and her new companion. "What in the Hells is _that_ thing?"

*The Infested Crossroads*

As the lights from Sarith's magic twine and dance down the rope ladder, the acidic slime recoils as if in disgust. But the lights simply aren't harsh enough to do more than irritate the slime colony, in so short a time. Faeydrl's spell on the other hand, aided by the strange macabre sprite following Nilvae, burns far more brightly. The fungus built up around the top of the rope ladder sizzles and blackens, burning away with an strong, acrid acidic smell.

As they continue to slowly advance and burn away the patch of acid, there is an angry pop and hiss from above. A large glob of green goop falls from the ceiling, landing below in a splorch that creates a puddle of oozing acid beneath it. Within the glob float the bones of a past victim. Deep inside of the slime is a glowing core, which glares out at them like a furious eye.

*Spoiler: Nature*
Show

Anyone who got DC 12 on the previous check knows this is definitely _not_ normal for green slime colonies.


Before they can ready themselves and dispatch the slimy defender, however, a long curled claw wraps around the corner of the lower tunnel. A bony skull like that of a horse with long, curved horns reaching back peeks out up at them, black abyss within its eye holes. A tall, lanky body oozing noxious goo follows, a pair of bat-like wings stretching from its back. It evokes an instinctive revulsion, even in those who might find its physical appearance within mundanity for the Underdark's twisted monsters. Taking another step forward, its body ripples and fades, vanishing from sight.

*Spoiler: Borthan*
Show

An unpleasant sensation oozes into Borthan's thoughts. It is like a black tar dripping down the sides of his brain, coiling through the folds and crevices like little sizzling fingers. It declares hostile intent that makes his spine crawl in two voices echoing over one another, clawing and jostling for attention, one tongue the common and the other an unsettling rasping sound of clicks and hissing.

*M͈͇̮̼̠̲ͅa̤̬͘͝r̦͉̭͉k͓̻e̡̺̰͎͉̺̬͝d̴̖͉̳̬͠͝.̵̧̯̬͈͙͕̮  ̦ͅ ̮F̜̘͉̱́͞o̦͕̜͈͖r̷̼̞̰͜.̵̡̬͉̲͔̰̪̱ ̢͇͚͟C̴͕̺̖̞̹͍̤̥o̠̺͓͈͍͓n̨̹̣̠͍͕̟͖̟͝ ̨̹͍̟͕͡s͉̘̹̺͢͞u̴͓͉̩͘m̨̘̳p͉̕ ̙̙͟t҉̱͖̼͇̮i̥͡o̘̞͕̟͓n̟͎̭̜͘͠.̸̱͍͓͖͎̱͚̻͟͞*

*Spoiler: Effects*
Show

Borthan must make a DC 10 Sanity check from the unsettling mental contact.



As the threat looms, Borthan suddenly falters, falling to the ground and shaking violently. Jimjar springs to action and runs to his side, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him awake. When Borthan emerges from the strange fever dreams he'd been struck with, he sees a gnomish face sneering down at him malevolently. *"Are you alright?"* Jimjar asks, with concern.

*Spoiler: What Borthan Hears*
Show

*"Get up and stop being so useless."*


Moving in behind Faedryl, Topsy peers out and points in the area where the slime is burned away from her bonfire. "The demon's standing there," she tells the others. "I can see talon marks in the soot."

*Spoiler: Religion*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

This creature's appearance and the aura of revulsion it creates mark it as a Demon.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

The Demon is a Geruzou, or a 'slime demon' as they are sometimes called. The slime coating their bodies is not strongly acidic, but is slippery and makes it difficult to grab or entangle them. They can, however, spit gobs of a more powerful acid.


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

Geruzou have natural magical abilities, including telepathy, invisibility, darkness generation, detection of cosmic forces (such as angels or other demons), and short range teleportation. The Geruzou could be anywhere right now.

They are immune to poison and acid, and resist frost, flame and lightning. Like many fiends, they are also resistant to magic in general.



*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan acts in the current allied Initiative block.

Perception can be attempted as an action to attempt to locate and point out the Demon's current Invisible location.

Mr. Spide moves forward and takes the Dodge action.
Topsy attempts to locate the demon, and succeeds. It may be targeted at Disadvantage with attacks.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16

Green Slime - 16

*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5

??? - 14
Demon - 12

Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (1 hr)

Falling to one knee, Borthan's eyes go wide as the intrinsic invasion of his mind causes his body to start to shut down. Shivering, he blinks as a single drop of cold sweat falls from the end of his nose. Then Jimjar is shaking him, and Borthan snaps out of it. When the deep gnome insults him, he responds by unleashing a bellow of rage into the small blue face. Springing up, Borthan rushes forward, shouting the word *PREY!* in the language of the Grey Dwarves before bellowing a challenge, both to the demon and to himself. He was fed up with having his mind ****ed with by these abyssal buttwipes. He would see this thing fall before him, or he would die trying. With Sun in one hand and Moon in the other, he turned into a hacking, slashing storm, trying to carve the demon into pieces.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Bonus action to Hunter's Mark the demon. I'm choosing not to roll religion because Bort wouldn't know anything about these types of things. Move up to the demon and attack. (1d20+5)[*24*] to hit (Disadvantage reroll in the discord, rolled a *15* and hit) and (1d6+3)[*6*] slashing damage, plus (1d6)[*4*] Hunter's Mark damage. Dread Ambusher gives another attack- (1d20+5)[*6*] to hit and (1d6+3)[*6*] damage, plus (1d6)[*1*] from Hunter's Mark and (1d8)[*2*] from Dread Ambusher. In case I crit here's another (1d6)[*2*].

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

Lunging back up, Borthan charges at the place where the talon marks mar the soot. The demon shifts, and its claws scrape into the layer of blackened earth, clueing Borthan into its movements. His first strike catches the enemy off guard, and blackened blood and sludge sprays out of thin air. Rippling shapes appear once more as the demon's concentration lapses. The creature leans back and swerves away from his clumsy, angry follow up.

Walking up, Shuushar closes his eyes and focuses. The normally pacifistic kuo-toa seems less hesitant against foes such as these, and when he opens them they gleam momentarily with light. A trio of floating, golden needles materializes next to the slime and jab at it, but the ooze slurps and glorps out of the way. Not looking frustrated, he reaches out and places a hand on Sarith's back, granting a minor blessing.

The slime ignores the floating needles of light, gliding towards their group and leaving a trail of acidic slime in its wake.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan slashes the Demon for *10* damage, then misses with his second strike.
Shuushar casts Spiritual Weapon, but misses Green Slime.
Shuushar casts Guidance on Sarith, giving him +1d4 to a roll.

Green Slime Dashes. It is not terribly fast. The ground behind it becomes slimed.

Faedryl and Sarith are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16

Green Slime - 16

*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5

??? - 14
Demon - 12

Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Dancing Lights (1 minute) 

Sarith shifts forward as the attack begins. He expects, rightly or wrongly, that his crossbow would prove fairly useless against a slime creature. Whatever projectiles he loosed into its gooey core would simply be dissolved, if they harmed it at all. Instead he focused on the demon menacing Borthan. He slips past the monster, shooting a quick underhand shot as if he weren't even paying attention, before slipping onto the rope ladder and disappearing behind the cliff edge. He could attack unseen from here.




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Move to the rope ladder, shoot the demon, then climb down the ladder with remaining movement.
*Action:* Fire crossbow (1d20+8)[*15*] (1d6+4)[*7*]+(1d6)[*5*] sneak attack for adjacent to Borthan
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide (1d20+6)[*24*]+(1d4)[*2*] from Guidance.






*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Faerie Fire (1 minute)

"No demon will hold us back." Faedryl declares proudly. She recognised the creature of course, from _Brizae's Best Bestiary Vol. III_. A tiresome read but the artistic depictions of the creatures contained therein were apparently quite accurate, as their foe appeared to have leaped straight out of the book into reality. She moves along the group to better position herself, thrusting the monster back into the flames that were no doubt quite familiar to it. A drow's ancestral connection to the fey was often viewed as lesser compared to that of their surface brethren, but what Faedryl had was still sufficient. Tracing the runes for _Lights. Play. Explosion._ in the air and sealing it with her name she unleashes a burst of bright light at both the slime and demon, all the better to keep it visible and easily targeted. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* 1 SW, 2S, shove+cast spell, 1SE, 1E, 1NE, ending up where she is on the map.
*Bonus Acton:* TK Shove (successful in discord) to shove the demon into the fire. Must succeed on a dexsave (DC14) (2d20)[*11*][*17*](28) or take (1d8)[*2*] fire damage (pre-resistance).
*Action:* Drow Racial Spell: Faerie Fire on slime+demon, letting bonfire concentration drop. Dexsave (DC14) (1d20)[*2*]+mods for slime, (2d20)[*11*][*16*](27)+mods for demonboy.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

Sarith's bolt, even casually fired, pierces the creature's side with deadly accuracy. As it twists and turns in the melee against Borthan, the bolt stuck into it hampers its movements. Then a telekinetic force pushes it back into the flames, which lick at its soggy flesh before dying out. They don't seem to bother the creature much, and the scattering of sparkling lights it banishes with a flap of its wings. The light does gather among the sludgy form of the slime however, lighting it up quite clearly.

With eyes on Borthan, the demon spits a globe of slime at Borthan. Weaving expertly around the abyssal vomit comet, he is caught off guard when the demon suddenly flashes the few feet forward, skipping any footwork at all to land a glancing slash with its claw. The element of surprise from its short jump doesn't last long though, and he narrowly evades its other claw.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith shoots the Demon for *12* damage.
Sarith Hides beneath the lip of the ledge.
Faedryl shoves the Demon into the flames for *1* fire damage, but it resists Faerie Fire. The slime does not.

Demon misses Borthan with spit, then hits with one claw for *3* damage and misses with the other.

Nilvae/Stool and Derendil's initiative block is up, with PCs taking priority. It's contiguous with the starting block, so Borthan can act again as well.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16

Green Slime - 16

*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5

??? - 14
Demon - 12

Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on:Hunter's Mark (1 hr)

Borthan continues swinging his axes at the demon, a flurry of impressive double weapon fighting.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Double attack. (1d20+5)[*18*] to hit and (1d6+3)[*8*] to damage, plus (1d6)[*5*] for hunter's mark. Bonus action attack is (1d20+5)[*8*] to hit and (1d6+3)[*5*] damage, plus (1d6)[*5*] for hunter's mark. (1d6)[*1*] if there is a crit. Waiting on Derendil's turn until we see if the demon dies Don't think those rolls are gonna kill it, so I'll edit in Derendil's turn with Discord for rolls. If the demon falls Borthan will move to an unslimed area to meet the slime in combat.




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil moves up next to Borthan and swings a claw at the demon, but fails to connect. He then raises his shield to fend off any attacks.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rolled an 8 to hit in the Discord. Derendil will cast Shield as a reaction if it looks like he is going to be hit.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  Hex (demon corpse)

Nilvae is a bit shocked they encounter another entity appears. She had not expected a demon again, and solitary. Gladly, Eyegore snapped her out of it. *Let me take care. I get its eyes, when it is done, right?* the small gremlin-like creature says before flying towards the demon suddenly extinguishing the already poor light sources around them. Covering the quartet of Derendil, Borthan, Sarith and Ront in darkness, Nilvae interjects before the fey can dampen her line of sight.

Ront! Break its legs! Nilvae shouts as she curses her opponent with frailty.

*Spoiler*
Show

Eyegore casts Darkness on self, covering our melee row. Hex on the demon targetting strength checks. 





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP, 10 mins), Shillelagh (1/10 rds) 
Concentration: - 

Stool glows in a mystical light and approaches the demon. It hums with warlike anticipation, engorging its club.

*Spoiler*
Show

casting Shillelagh, and using Symbiotic Entity

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

Derendil rushes in, claws at the ready, but the demon catches the swing with its own slippery arm, the quaggoth's strike sliding off. Borthan's axe comes around again, Sun arcing out. The demon tries to lean out of the way, but the bolt lodged into its body causes it to lock up and the blade slashes across its throat. It falls backwards limply onto the ground, body dissolving into an empty skull and a puddle of blackened goo. 

*"Gladly,"* charging up through the darkness, Ront comes to a disappointed stop as he sees the demon already dead. He glances at the slime and takes on a cautious posture. *"How to kill these things?"*

"Blades won't be able to do anything. You have to bludgeon or pierce the core organ- but I've never seen one like this," Topsy advises. "And I don't recommend touching it unless you like acid burns."

Ront growls, staying careful despite his frustration. *"Just smash it with my shield,"* he mutters, planning to himself what to do. Buppido closer to the fore of the group as well, his arm poised and eyes watching the slime carefully.

"These will damage our weapons, will they not?" the derro's voice rings unusually sober, less malignantly arrogant than usual. Maybe he just doesn't want to get his mustache burned. "Better to strike from afar."

Mr. Spide remains near Nilvae, posed defensively.

The three deep gnomes seem to concur, firing a volley of magic and projectiles at the ooze. Jimjar's bolt goes wide, but a ray of cold blackens the slime mold as part of it shrivels up and dies. The slingshot stone slams into it, sinking deep down and impacting the core in a strike that makes the slime shudder, before floating out and starting to levitate back towards Topsy in the cover of the dark dome. The stone doesn't seem as affected by their acid as other materials; probably for the same reason they don't melt the ground underneath them.

Three golden needles sink forcefully into the slime, driving through its core as Shuushar solemnly ends it. Killing something with no soul does not seem to bother him so much.

For a moment, all seems quiet again. Then, from the puddle of slime just ahead, another mass rises out and rushes at Derendil like a rogue wave, washing against his legs and lower body with its burning touch.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil's claw attack misses the Demon.
Borthan's hit deals *8* damage, slaying the Demon.
Eye Gore casts Darkness, shrouding much of the group.
Nilvae casts Hex, moving to the Green Slime with the Demon dead.
Stool casts Shillelagh and activates Symbiotic Entity, gaining *12* temp HP.
Buppido takes the Dodge action.
Ront takes the Dodge action.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Green Slime, dealing *4* Super Effective cold damage.
Topsy fires Slingshot at Green Slime, dealing a *7* damage Sneak Attack.
Jimjar shoots at Green Slime, but misses.
Shuushar strikes Green Slime with Spiritual Weapon, slaying it for *9* damage. Nilvae's Hex can be passed to a new target as a bonus action.

Green Slime charges at Derendil, and he fails a DC 13 Dex save to avoid the wave of slime and taking *7* acid damage.

Faedryl and Sarith are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16

Green Slime - 16

*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5

??? - 14
Demon - 12

Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

----------


## Amnestic

[QUOTE=Amnestic;25148138]
*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Dancing Lights (1 minute) 

Military training teaches you to learn rote movements and execute them one after another, and Sarith does exactly that. He throws himself up the ladder, looses a bolt, and then disappears back behind the cliff edge again.




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Up the rope ladder, shoot, down the rope ladder. This will get *so* much easier once I can steady aim at Rogue 3.
*Action:* Fire crossbow (1d20+6)[*21*] Advantage from hidden(?) (1d20+8)[*23*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*10*]+(1d6)[*4*] SA.
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide (1d20+6)[*22*]






*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire (1 minute)

She's quietly reassured by the speed at which they dispatched the demon. Truly it _had_ been no match for their group, motley and haphazardly equipped though they were. With the two initial foes dispatched Faedryl moves forward to better position herself, calling forth the flames once more beneath a slime before thrusting with her mind, aiming to send it off the cliff into the darkness below. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* As map.
*Action:* *Create Bonfire* on green slime. (1d20)[*20*] + mods dex save vs. DC14 or take (1d8)[*1*] fire damage.
*Bonus Acton:* TK Shove the slime out of the fire off the cliff, since apparently oozes still take fall damage. Strength save (1d20)[*2*]+mods vs DC14.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

Popping up just long enough to take a shot, Sarith casually spears a bolt straight through the slime as it recedes away from Derendil, when its gelatinous defensive layer is at this thinnest. The bolt strikes true and the mass of ooze dissolves into a puddle without any fanfare, not even so much as a gurgle.

Though it is dead, Faedryl still lights it up with her bonfire, burning away its remains and some of the slime trail it had left behind. Then, she feels a sudden breeze next to her, a rush of air that follows motion. A pair of clammy, oozing claws grabs her and she reacts on instinct, bringing up a shield of force just in time to stop a pair of boney, acid-slavering jaws from closing in on her face. One of its claws gets around the barrier and leaves a scratch on her arm, but she avoids a catastrophic sneak attack.

Buppido reacts eagerly to a target he can skill moving into his sights. He steps forward and unsheathes the hidden spike from inside of his sleeve, stabbing upwards at the demon. But with a flap of its wings, it forces itself back out of the way. Following up with a low spin kick, Buppido staggers the monster.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith Sneak Attacks the Green Slime for *14* damage, killing it.
Faedryl burns away the remains with her spell, instead.

A new Demon appears, biting Faedryl for *13* damage, then clawing her for *5* and *4*, just enough for a KO.
Faedryl casts Shield as a reaction, preventing two of the hits.

Buppido misses his surprise stab, but kicks the demon for *8* Sneak Attack damage.
Bort/Derry and Nilvae/Stool are up, followed by the large NPC block!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16

Green Slime - 16

*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5

??? - 14
Demon - 12

Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (1 hr)

*PREY!* Borthan saw the demon nearly savage Faedryl, and his rage transferred to the newcomer just as quickly as his spell did, revealing weaknesses in the demon's hide. Borthan leapt past Ront and brought both his axes down on the creature.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Attack and Bonus action attack. (1d20+5)[*13*] to hit, (1d20+5)[*17*] advantage due to darkness, and (1d6+3)[*9*] damage, plus (1d6)[*6*] for Hunter's mark. Right hand- (1d20+5)[*21*] to hit, (1d20+5)[*7*] advantage due to darkness, and (1d6+3)[*9*] damage and (1d6)[*1*] for hunter's mark. (1d6)[*2*] in case I crit.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil's magic ward had absorbed the splash of acidic liquid, but it had nearly shorted out. Resolving to charge it as needed with defensive magic, Derendil waved his wand and sent a frozen ray of ice blue light at the nearest threat, or at a new one if it presents itself.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Derendil rolled a 4 to hit something with a spell attack. He'll reserve his moment to move to intercept any newly approaching foes.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  Hex (demon corpse)

Nilvae hears a crack, sputtering and sizzling, but lacks victory howls. As Stool vanishes in the darkness, she fears for its life. The elf commands Eyegore to lift its darkness, casts and throws a stone at the demon. It enters the melee range and tries to gouge out the demon's eyes.

Instead of switching her curse, Nilvae just throws glowing stones once again.

*Spoiler*
Show

Fake gouges to aid Ront. 23 to hit and 9 (magic) blunt damage.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP, 10 mins), Shillelagh (1/10 rds) 
Concentration: - 

Stool advances as well as the first demon falls, happy no one was hurt. He leaves the second one to Ront who might be foaming at his mouth.


[/QUOTE]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

With a whistling handaxe, Borthan deftly beheads the demon. Or at least nearly beheads it. Head hanging limply on a flap of flesh, it falls to the ground and its slimy form dissolves, leaving only the demonic skull.

For a moment all is quiet again, but more of these slimes and demons could lurk in wait. Borthan feels a growing sense of foreboding. 

*Spoiler: Passive/Active Perception*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

Slimy glorping sounds can be heard from the crossroad ahead, which is heavily infested with green slime.


*Spoiler: DC 18 and near Ledge*
Show

Soft footsteps from something unseen can be seen subtly displacing the slime on the floor below.



*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan strikes for *15* damage with his first hit, enough to slay the Demon.
Derendil readies an action to cast a spell.
Nilvae's stone proves unnecessary, but she can Ready it instead.

Everyone has a free round to arrange themselves and either clear away slime, Dodge, attempt Perception or Ready actions.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16

Green Slime - 16

*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5

??? - 14
Demon - 12

Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  Hex (demon corpse)

WHO ARE YOU?! Eyegore, check this. Nilvae shouts down below, pointing at an obviously invisible foe. Eyegore is busy harvesting the first pair of eyes when the magic linking him to Nilvae compels him to scout down below. *Alright, alright. Sheesh woman. Not so needy.* It jumps up to flutter downwards.

*Spoiler*
Show

Faerie Fire if I can spot it. 





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP, 10 mins), Shillelagh (1/10 rds) 
Concentration: - 

The myconid strains its little eyes but cannot see as well as Nilvae. Maybe because it scans for natural predators, maybe because its approach to the matter is too sensible.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Nilvae's mad screaming doesn't give Sarith much confidence, but nevertheless he mumbles a few words imbued with magic. A burst of light erupts in the area, one that would hopefully succeed at revealing whatever was there - if anything at all.




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* As map.
*Action:* Drow Faerie Fire. (1d20)[*16*]+ Dex Modifiers vs DC12 on the spot that's been pointed out by Nilvae. 
*Bonus Action:* None.






*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Magic Missile Readied.

Faedryl's still on guard, if indeed there is something else out there. She calls together a few runes in the air but holds off on finalising the gleaming magic circle for the moment until she's got a confirmed target.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* None
*Action:* *Ready Action:* Magic Missile. (1d4)[*1*]+1 * 3 = *6* force damage at the demon. *Trigger:* Demon appears, either due to Faerie Fire or simply appearing on its own. 
*Bonus Acton:* None.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (1 Hour)

Borthan reels in the direction of Nilvae, eyes angry and posture threatening. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that if you don't have nothin nice to say, DON'T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL?" He's shouting by the end of his sentence. If an enemy is revealed her will move his marking spell onto them with an angry word, then bellow in frustration as he charges it. Otherwise he stays in place, head constantly turning side to side in pursuit of foes he could strike, even as his allies seemed to abuse him at every turn.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

If the fairy fire works Bort will go HAM on a demon. Two attacks, thrown if they need to be to be in range. (1d20+5)[*18*] to  hit, (1d20+5)[*23*] to hit. (1d6+3)[*4*] damage plus (1d6)[*2*] damage if I can move my hunter's mark to the demon. (1d6+3)[*4*] damage on the second attack, and (1d6)[*1*] mark damage.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil holds position, shield up, trying to locate a target. If one is spotted, he will bear down on it with his claw while keeping his shield high.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Move to an opponent and attack it if it reveals itself. Dodge if nothing presents itself or can be reached. (1d20+5)[*20*] to hit, (1d6+3)[*6*] damage on a hit. If an attack would hit Derendil will cast Shield and recover 2 points of ward.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

With Nilvae pointing out another demon lurking in wait, Sarith conjures a glowing flash of drow magic. But as the sparks flutter and fade, nothing is revealed. Is there a real enemy, or is it the ravings of a madwoman? Time would reveal the truth soon. Mr. Spide remains nearby the girl, fangs poised in preparation for another monster to show itself.

Stepping up to the ledge as Sarith scrambles away from the rope ladder, Topsy takes a potshot with her slingshot, plinking off the wall. Shuushar, too, sends his spiritual armament down to jab at the air. But if anything is there it deftly dodges the blind jabs. Seeing their attempts fail, Turvy takes a cue from Faedryl and begins gathering power between his hands. "Laven..."

Taking position next to Borthan, Jimjar looks the other way and readies himself for the demon's reappearance. Ront snarls in frustration and grabs the skull of one of the demons. He wraps two of his bulky fingers through its eye sockets and wears it like a gauntlet to protect his fist from punching any of the slime monsters. *"Now can really get in there."*

At the fore of the group, Buppido opens up his dress shirt and bares his chest at the tunnel, "Come out and face me! Try it if you dare!" The taunting appears to work as a phantom claw rakes across his chest, leaving red streaks. The demon reappears before him and Buppido drives his hidden blade into its chest in turn. Held in place by the attack and perhaps caught off guard by Buppido's lack of survival instinct, the demon is subject to a volley of blade and magic. Borthan's axe cracks its skull and rebounds off, landing in the slime at its feet with a sizzling sound. "-Byon Seek!"

Faedryl and Turvy loose their force missiles at the same time, the swarm of flickering energy bolts swerving and circling through the crowd to slam into the demon in rapid fire. Its putrid flesh splatters flecks of goo and bloody ichor in every direction as it is pounded down to pulp against the ground.


In the wake of the bloody ambush, a new figure rounds the corner ahead. It is a mound of oozing green sludge formed around a skeletal structure that looks neither wholly human nor wholly anything else, pieced together from different bones and remains of various species. The skull peers out from the ooze, deep glowing pits for eyes that feel like they fall away into an infinite blackness in which a thousand gleaming yellow lights dance like fireflies.

Floating in the multiple choice ribcage is a structure of black volcanic glass. It is a twisting shape that wrenches the gut even to look at, radiating primal revulsion. You cannot look... but neither can you look away.

*Spoiler: Religion or Arcana*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

The idol is certainly demonic in origin.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

Jubilex, the Faceless Lord, Father of Slimes. Considering the context there is no other Demon Lord this could depict. The Faceless Lord is at once profoundly simple and profoundly dangerous in his agenda: to devour everything until the world is a roiling cauldron of slime.



Spreading its arms wide, the creature speaks in a tongue that causes the group's light sources to flicker and sputter at the mere sound. The dark corridor twists and grows at once longer and shorter in their vision.

*Spoiler: Abyssal*
Show

*"Do not sleep through the feast, children. Your Missionary calls you. Let there be jubilation."*


Inky blackness swirls around the feet of the motley, slithering into the puddles left by the demons and the fallen slime that hadn't been burned away. They begin to coalesce into new oozes, ravenous and grasping at their heels. But they manage to avoid being slimed, for now.

*Spoiler: Nature DC 12*
Show

Gray Oozes, like the one in the drow spring. Their structure is less viscous and resistant to weaponry, but heat and cold do poorly against it and it corrodes metal weapons on touch.


Behind the skeleton jelly, the large puddle of green slime languishing throughout the crossroad begins to draw together into more motile slimes, 'marching' past and leaving acidic trails behind. Even larger masses of slime begin to form.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae is able to spot another Demon lurking.
Sarith attempts to Faerie Fire the Demon, but it resists.
Faedryl Readies Magic Missile.
Borthan Readies an attack.
Derendil Dodges.

Mr. Spide readies an attack.
Topsy shoots at the invisible Geruzou, but misses.
Jimjar Readies an attack.
Shuushar takes an attack at the Geruzou with his spiritual weapon, but misses.
Buppido taunts the enemy and Readies an attack.
Ront takes a Geruzou skull to use as a fist protector.
Turvy Readies Magic Missile.

Geruzou claws Buppido for *8* damage and reappears, triggering readied attacks.
Buppido's stab deals *14*, Faedryl's Missiles deal *6* damage, Borthan's axe deals *4*, Jimjar misses, and Turvy's Missiles deal *15* which slays it.
Sun axe rests in a puddle of acid, taking a -1 to its damage rolls.

The Missionary of Jubilex raises the dead Green Slimes who have not been burned away, and 'resurrects' the fallen Geruzou as Gray Oozes.
Gray Ooze wobbles at Derendil, but misses.
Gray Ooze attempts to slime Faedryl, but misses.
Gray Ooze attempts to slime Buppido, but misses.
Green Slime attempts to engulf charge Borthan, but he passes his Dex save to avoid it.

Everyone now goes!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5
Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

Geruzou - Delayed
The Missionary of Jubilex - Delayed
Grey Ooze - Summoned
Green Slime - Delayed

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

Faedryl grimaces as the slimes bubble up once more. Disgusting. Demon worshippers were the worst. At least with cultists of dark gods - like Lolth - they were clinging at the hems of actual deities for power, but demon cultists seemed eager to throw their lot in with the losing side again and again. She summons the flame circle once more, summoning flames beneath the ooze beside her, before trying to force it back with her mind.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* None
*Action:* Create Bonfire on the slime adjacent to her. (1d20)[*9*]+Mods dexsave vs. DC14 or (1d8)[*1*] fire damage (before resistances)
*Bonus Acton:* TK Shove (1d20)[*3*]+mods strengthsave or moved 5' back.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Sarith darts back into action, taking his chance to slip back down the rope ladder, popping up only to loose a bolt at the closest slime before disappearing again.




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* As map, back down the ladder, poke up just enough to shoot then back down again.
*Bonus Action:* CA: Hide (1d20+6)[*26*]
*Action:* Attack the closest gray ooze (1d20+8)[*9*] Advantage if successful hide (1d20+8)[*26*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*9*]+(1d6)[*5*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on:Hunter's Mark (1 hr)

NO! DAMNIT! NO! Borthan watched his axe fly to the side and land in a puddle of green slime. Without a second's hesitation, he began to weave and slide back the intervening slimes towards the fallen weapons.  Inching past Bupido, he reached into the sizzling green slime without fear, feeling it peel the skin on his fingers, and wiped the axe against his pantleg to clean it off. Then he stowed both axes in their loops on his belt, moving back to his former position. He didn't have time to draw new weapons, even with his practiced hands, but he would be damned if harm came to those axes. Gotdamn slimes... *PREY!* Hey shifted the focus of his spell to the grey ooze, preparing to assault it with his bare hands if he must. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Disengage action, move two squares diagonally to the north west then one west, pick up the axe and stow both axes, then move in the reverse course to get back to where he was a moment before. Technically taking a -1 to AC while not wielding two weapons until his next turn. (1d20-1)[*3*] for religion and (1d20+1)[*11*] nature.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil hoped that wood would be more resistant to this attacks of these slimes, keeping his shield high as he lashed out at the grey ooze with his claws, not sure if he should expect an acidic burn.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+2)[*15*] Religion and (1d20+4)[*12*] Nature. Slashing at the grey ooze to his west with claws. (1d20+5)[*9*] to hit and (1d6+3)[*8*] damage. If an attack would hit Derendil he will cast Shield as a reaction, gain +5 AC and heal 2 hp on his ward.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP, 10 mins), Shillelagh (3/10 rds) 
Concentration: - 

_Jubilex Demonlord of Slime. Is demon slime! Remove, remove._ Stool's voice reverberates in Nilvae's head. He then wields his slightly bigger than average club and mashes the ooze to the east.


*Spoiler*
Show

(1d20+5)[*25*] (1d8+3)[*11*] blunt plus (1d6)[*2*] necrotic damage
Halo of Spores vs. the same target as an reaction for moving into my melee range DC 13 con save or take (1d4)[*4*] necrotic damage








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  Hex (Ooze down south)

Nilvae shifts her curse down to the ooze threatening the drow sorceress as Stool's magic hits her. The oozes are also demonic. Stool told me. They may have more in store. as she throws a stone over.

*No eyes? Boring.* Eyegore exclaims.* I'm gonna look for some eyes.* The eager mothlike fey flies over to the demonic apostle, trying to poke its eyes.


*Spoiler*
Show

(1d20+6)[*26*] and (1d6+3)[*7*] blunt damage plus (1d6)[*2*]
Huh, my setup is pretty much filled with necrotic damage.
Eyegore misses with a 6 to attack.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

Flames lick up from beneath the oily gray mass, which bubbles a little but doesn't seem perturbed by the heat. Wanting space from the disgusting blob, she hurls psionic force at it which causes its form to ripple and distort, flopping and morphing backwards like a wave crashing on the beach. Borthan suddenly runs off in a panic, retrieving his axe in a fit of sentiment before returning to Faedryl, new red acid burn marks on his hand.

Jimjar leans between Ront and Borthan, landing a clumsy shot that nevertheless seems to be diverted by the slime right into the core. With a pleased smirk he quips, *"Fancy footwork there Bort. Wanna wager who lands a hit on the mean green over there first?"* he asks, pointing at the apparent leader.

*Spoiler: What Borthan hears*
Show

*"Stop dancing around and make yourself useful, idio-"*


A webbed hand is laid upon Borthan's arm, nearly causing him to twitch away before he notices it's Shuushar. Some of the haze of paranoia crawling along the edges of his vision like inky tendrils recedes for a moment, as the fishman mends his hurt hand. "Be carble oubt there, my frienb." Something about the goofy kuo-toa 'accent' cuts through to him, if just for a moment.

Looking utterly thrilled to finally get to smash something, Ront jumps over the puddle-corpse Jimjar left and takes the Geruzou skull in both hands, slamming it down into the ooze Faedryl pushed back. A gob of slime sloughs off of the ceiling above and falls towards him, but the orc moves faster than his size would belie, dodging the falling gob.

Another Geruzou menacingly appears behind Ront, walking towards him and letting slime from the ceiling dribble down onto its body, not minding at all. But its grandstanding gives Ront enough time to realize it's there and lift up his shield, blocking the lunging jaws slick with acid. One claw gets around his shield and nicks his arm, but his armor takes the worst of it. He deftly slides his foot out of the way as the gray ooze he slammed tries to crawl up his leg.


Deftly swinging back down onto the ladder, Sarith reaches over to thunk a bolt into the ooze nearest to the ledge. The metal projectile dissolves inside of the slime entity, but not before delivering its damage. Stool raises up his chair leg, which forms into a mighty war club and smashes into the ooze that tried to eat him. Its core is smushed and begins to rot away.

Holding his shield at the ready, Derendil takes a swing at the slime before him. But perhaps the thoughts and images of Borthan's acid burn flashing past are too distracting, too disheartening, and his swing falters. But the thing seems to be struggling, tiny fungal spores flitting about it like fleas and causing parts of its oily mass to dissolve. Winding up behind him like a baseball pitcher, Nilvae chucks a dimly glowing stone directly into it, splatting into the middle and leaving it wobbling pathetically.

Taking a quick step back next to Nilvae, Topsy spins to aim her slingshot and puts a smaller stone through the core left exposed by Nilvae's throw.


Breaking off from the eyeless foes, Eye-Gore flutters up into the darkness among the stalactites above, peering down at their leader. A thousand tiny eyes seem to glow in its sockets, a tempting treat. Not so eager to stick his fangs into these acidic puddles, Mr. Spide remains near Nilvae, keeping guard. Beneath him, the gleaming needles of light dance through the air, gliding back up over the ledge and- bumping into something in their way. Shuushar twitches in surprise. The needles try to jab at whatever it is, but he lacks the killer instinct to strike before whatever it is has moved from where it was.

The event is not lost on Buppido, who steps forward and lashes out with his sleeve blade, hacking and slashing at the air. But his wild and crazed strikes meet nothing but that - air. Reacting with calm and illogic in equal measure, he shoulder tackles the space where the demon should be, knocking it back into the wall. The monster appears from the empty air and lashes out at Buppido in indignation. He swerves and jukes out of the way with as much ease as the demon avoided his own impulsive assault.


In a mirror to Borthan and Shuushar, Turvy furtively reaches out and takes hold of Derendil's clawed hand in the lull after his foe is slain. "Here, here, let me help." The nervous gnome incants, "Muendu Wandashar." A painless layer of pure white frost covers Derendil's claw like a gauntlet.


Gazing at the scene with unreadable alien expression, the Missionary glides forward with far greater speed than the rest of its kin, coming to a stop next to Buppido. Opening the jaws of its skull, it vomits forth a spray of slime. The projectile vomit covers Buppido, Derendil and Turvy in a layer of sticky, burning acid. Derendil's arcane barrier crackles and fizzles, it won't hold long if at all before the burning goo reaches his fur and flesh.

"Turvy! Hold on, I'll- I'll get it off!" Topsy calls out in concern, grabbing for her waterskin in a panic.

One of the lesser slimes behind the Missionary surges forward, rushing up Buppido's body. The derro screams in rage and pain, even is veneer of calm unable to withstand the burning assault on all of his nerves.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire, but the Gray Ooze resists the damage.
Faedryl's Telekinetic Shove does work.
Sarith takes cover, then shoots Gray Ooze next to Stool for *14* damage.
Borthan retrieves the Sun Axe, rescuing it from the slime. He takes *5* acid damage from reaching into the green slime to retrieve it.
Derendil strikes at Gray Ooze between him and Buppido, but misses.
Stool womps Gray Ooze next to him for *13* damage, slaying it even before adding the rit.
Stool's Halo of Spores deals *7* necrotic damage to the Gray Ooze next to Derendil.
Nilvae critically hits Gray Ooze for *12* damage.
Eye-Gore flies up above the corridor.

Mr. Spide Readies an attack.
Topsy Disengages as a bonus action and uses her slingshot to deal *5* damage, slaying the middle Gray Ooze.
Jimjar shoots Green Slime next to Borthan for *13* damage sneak attack, slaying it.
Shuushar directs Spiritual Weapon towards the Missionary, but it bumps into an enemy Geruzo which he strikes at instead, missing.
Shuushar uses Cure Wounds, healing Borthan for the *5* he took.
Buppido moves beneath Eye-Gore and stabs at the invisible demon, but misses. He uses an unarmed attack instead and hits for *1*.
Ront smashes Gray Ooze for *10* damage, and evades a Green Slime terrain hazard.
Turvy casts Arcane Weapon on Derendil's claw. It now deals 1d6 Cold damage on a hit and counts as a magic weapon, making it immune to the slimes' contact damage.

Geruzou makes a flurry of attacks against Buppido, all missing.
Geruzou makes a flurry of attacks against Ront, hitting with one claw for *3* damage.
Missionary of Jubilex covers Buppido, Derendil and Turvy in acid. They will take 3d4 acid damage at the start of each of their turns until they or another creature uses an action to wash it off with something.
Gray Ooze attempts to slime Ront, but misses.
Green Slime engulfing charges Buppido, dealing *13* acid damage.

Everyone is now up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5
Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

Geruzou - Delayed
The Missionary of Jubilex - Delayed
Grey Ooze - Summoned
Green Slime - Delayed

----------


## Amnestic

[QUOTE=Amnestic;25157874]
*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

With the fire blocking her from the worst of the slimes, unless they wished to rush into pain themselves, Faedryl curves around the group to get into range on the demonic worshipper that seemed to be directing the slimes. As the (apparent) leader, he was her priority target. Her scarlet eyes blacken as she unleashes a blistering curse on the foe, weakening it against her attacks, before combining another set of runes and unleashing three magical force bolts that stream between friend and foe alike to strike at the cultist.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* Curve round the team to get within 30' of the Jubilex dude, cast, then move back to where she was.
*Bonus Acton:* Activate_ Hexblade Curse_ on the Jubilex dude.
*Action:* Cast Magic Missle. (1d4)[*1*]+3 * 3 = *12* force damage.






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Sarith naturally follows Faedryl's lead, loosing a bolt to follow on from her spell. With an actual humanoid to target, he opts to use one his precious few poisoned bolts, in the hopes that it would take them out of the fight immediately. 




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Bonus Action:* CA: Hide (1d20+6)[*20*]
*Move:* Pop up, get within 30' of the cultist, fire, then back down the ladder again. 
*Action:* Attack the Jubilex Cultist with a drow poison bolt. (1d20+8)[*24*] Advantage if successful hide: (1d20+8)[*10*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*10*] +(only if advantage on the attack) (1d6)[*2*]. 
Con save for poison on hit: (1d20)[*1*]+mods vs DC13(?)

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP, 10 mins), Shillelagh (3/10 rds) 
Concentration: - 

Stool valiantly advances and confronts Buppido's northern foe covered under the Kuo-Toa's divinely glowing armaments. 

*Spoiler*
Show

Shillelagh (1d20+5)[*17*] (1d8+3)[*8*] plus (1d6)[*1*] necrotic
Halo of Spores for Geruzou (1d4)[*3*]








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  Hex (Ooze down south)

Nilvae mentally focusses on the demon off to the northwest, before aiding Turvy in the removal of his acid. Out of options and now wanting to aggravate the wounds further, she remembers a trick of her grandmother when young Nilvae doused herself in washing lyes. She basically just took a handful of mud and rubbed over the areas, having a protected hand as well as the mud not really absorbing but sizzling onto the floor.

Meanwhile Eyegore heckles his demonic target. Scared to really engage it instead threatens eye poking, giving Buppido a vantage point to attack.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 21/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (1 hr)

Borthan cursed louder and drew the stone dagger from one boot and a steel one from the other and went to work punishing the grey ooze in front of him. It would make the dagger worthless, but he intended to get his coin's worth before it melted through.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Object interaction to draw a stone dagger and a regular dagger. Attacking the grey ooze- (1d20+4)[*8*] to hit for the stone dagger, with (1d6+3)[*9*] damage and (1d6)[*4*] hunter's mark damage. Regular dagger bonus action attack (1d20+5)[*7*] to hit, (1d6+3)[*7*] damage, and (1d6)[*1*] hunter's mark damage. If the grey ooze dies Borthan will move on to the next target if there is a safe space to do so.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (1hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:

Derendil quickly reaches for his waterskin and douses himself, washing off the majority of the acidic slime before it can burn into his flesh. _Keep calm, keep under control, keep the beast inside..._ he thought to himself as he worked. Then, shield raised, he moved in to reinforce Bupido and meet the slime's aggression with his newly frosted claw. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Action- rinse off the nasty Axe bodywash the slime dude decided to spray everyone with. Movement, move up to get into the front line of the fight.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

Where Faedryl's magic bolts impact, crackling arcs of black energy zap out from the point of contact, spearing into the slimy mass of the Missionary. Sarith's physical bolt follows behind, sinking into the foe. But before it can fully reach the core, the bolt rapidly dissolves, limiting the damage done. If the creature is bothered by his poison, it does not show any signs.

Waddling ahead into the melee, Stool's club again grows to humorous size as he slams it into the demon hounding Buppido. The creature is bonked upon its skull, recoiling from the strike. Above Stool's head, the spiritual needles refocus upon the leader of the demons, jabbing into it with far more success than Sarith's bolt.

Eye Gore flutters and flits around the head of the Geruzou. But before Buppido can capitalize on the chance to perform violence, he collapses in the coating of acid he suffered. Looking pleased, the Missionary reaches down and clasps the derro by the shoulders, then stops when it sees the scars marking his chest. Recoiling from the crown of gems, it instead flicks acid down onto the madman, speeding him towards his end, then directs another arm towards Stool, stretching out towards him like an animated jet of acid. But the little mushroom is more agile than expected, avoiding the attack.

Another slime surges forward, trying to swallow Stool, but cannot catch the fungal friend.


Topsy and Turvy's panic is abated as Nilvae acts swiftly, using mud to safely clear away the acid from the gnome's flesh. He breathes an uneasy sigh of relief, looking down at his badly damaged clothes. "Thank you!" he says gratefully, and even his sour-faced sister offers Nilvae a nod of appreciation as she puts her waterskin back away. Instead she draws a dagger and throws it at the demon who'd ambushed Ront, sailing just past and impacting the wall but distracting it and creating an opening. As it twitches out of the way, Jimjar slickly leans out and thunks a hand crossbow bolt into its chest with a wily smirk.

*"We make a pretty good team eh, Tops?"*

"Maybe you should learn to aim without my help," she snidely remarks back. Jimjar makes a joking gesture as if he'd been struck in the heart.

Derendil douses his own acid covering before it can do too much damage, stepping forward to join the fight. Reaching out, Turvy channels a bolt of frost at the slime nearby. "Frigus!" he incants, but misses, leaving a patch of frost on the stone nearby. The slime tries to smack Derendil with an acidic pseudopod, but cannot make contact.


At the flank of their formation, Borthan drives a stone dagger into the core of the oily ooze and it dissolves into an inert puddle. The stone is unaffected by its acidic composition, surviving the ordeal just fine. Ahead he can see that both the floor and ceiling are obstructed by acidic green slime, making it difficult to approach along the enemy's flank safely.

Shuushar carefully steps over and around the puddle left behind, placing a webbed hand on Ront's back and granting the orc a minor blessing of protection. Bobbing and weaving around the falling acid with impressive awareness for his size and his species' reputation, Ront delivers a small jab and then a brutal haymaker to the Geruzou facing him.

The two Geruzou vanish, reappearing amidst the motley crew at the back. One of them reaches down to attack Sarith in his vulnerable position on the rope, but he proves less vulnerable than the monster expected. As it leans down to attack, he leans further back down the rope out of its reach, where it cannot slash at him without risk of toppling head over heels off the ledge.

The other demon appears behind Borthan, grabbing him from behind and savagely tearing into him the same way it very nearly did to Faedryl - and may again yet, unless it is slain. The deadly half-drow ranger falls to the ground under the demon's weight as it rends into his back, leaving bloody marks and acid burns.

With the space before Ront clear, one of the massive slimes rushes at him. But Ront is able to backstep out of the flood of slime before it engulfs him.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl Marks the Missionary with her curse and casts Magic Missile, dealing *12* damage.
Sarith shoots the Missionary, for another *6* damage (after Resistance) with a sneak attack. He is, unfortunately, immune to the poison.
Stool strikes north Geruzou for *9* damage.
Nilvae clears away the acid from Turvy.
Eye Gore uses Help on attacking the north Geruzou.
Borthan hits with the stone dagger for *13* damage (yes their AC is that low), slaying the Gray Ooze.  Reaching any of the other enemies would require moving into dangerous spaces, so I'll let his other less successful attack pass for now.
Derendil takes *5* acid damage at turn start, before he cleans off the acid, popping his barrier and dealing a bit of damage.

Mr. Spide moves forward and readies an attack.
Topsy misses south Geruzou with a dagger, but uses bonus action Help to give an ally Adv against it.
Jimjar uses that Adv, hitting it with an *11* damage sneak attack.
Shuushar's Spiritual Weapon attacks the Missionary, dealing *8* force damage.
Shuushar casts Virtue, giving Ront *4* temp hp.
Buppido takes *6* acid damage and is KO'd before he can murderize the Geruzou.
Ront punches south Geruzou twice for *12* damage total, and avoids falling slime.
Turvy misses Green Slime with Ray of Frost.

Stool's spores deal *5* damage to north Geruzou at its turn start. (remember Symbiotic Entity increases the damage to 2d4)
North Geruzou teleports into the backline, triggering Spide's attack and taking *8* damage.
South Geruzou teleports behind Borthan, clawing him for *8* and *9*, then biting him for *14*, a KO.
Missionary of Jubilex is about to do something to Buppido, but is repulse by him instead. It attacks Buppido for 2 failed death saves, then attacks Stool and misses.
Green Slime attacks Derendil, but misses.
Green Slime engulf-charges at Stool, but Stool evades.
Giant Green Slime engulf-charges at Ront, but Ront evades.

Everyone is now up! Borthan must make a Death Save.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5
Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

Geruzou - Delayed
The Missionary of Jubilex - Delayed
Gray Ooze - Summoned
Green Slime - Delayed

----------


## Amnestic

[QUOTE=Amnestic;25157874]
*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

There lines were falling, but then so were the enemy's. The most she could do now was try to reduce their numbers. She was no good at saving lives. Merely taking them. And so she sets out doing exactly that. "Your master will fall demon. And you as well." She taunts the monster to draw it away from Bort even as she thrusts out one hand towards the Jubilex cultist and unleashes another three bolts of enhanced magic. With her other hand she pushes at the demon beside the cliff, launching it off the edge to the darkness below. Perhaps it would survive the fall, perhaps not, but either way it would buy them at least some time.




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* None
*Bonus Acton:* Shove the demon southwest of Sarith off the cliff. Rolled a 2 on his strength save in discord.
*Action:* Cast Magic Missile on the missionary again. *4* (in discord)+3 * 3 = *21* force damage. 






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

With space at the top of the ladder opened up, Sarith takes a moment to conceal his presence before throwing himself up above the cliff edge once more and aims square down the group, looking at piercing the demon that breached past their frontline. He looses the bolt, then slips away again. 





*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide (1d20+6)[*9*]
*Move:* Pop up, shoot the demon beside Faedryl+Bort, pop down.
*Action:* Attack the demon with a normal bolt. (1d20+8)[*23*] Advantage if successful hide: (1d20+8)[*23*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*7*]+(1d6)[*2*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 0/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Unconcious, Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan groans in pain as he falls forward, hitting the ground in a bleeding, unconscious heap.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20)[*11*] Death Save.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 22/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (10 rounds)

Went the acid begins to burn his flesh, the pain sears into Derendil's mind, releasing his inner animal and driving him into a bloody fury. He uses his newly frosted claw and strikes out at the nearest green ooze. Then he moves upward to attempt to put his shield in front of the harbinger of slimy doom.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Bonus action rage, going to reckless attack the nearest ooze. (1d20+5)[*11*] to hit and (1d20+5)[*18*] with advantage. (1d6+5)[*11*] damage, plus 5 cold damage rolled in the Discord. Then move into Bupido's square to engage the big icky.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP, 10 mins), Shillelagh (3/10 rds) 
Concentration: - 

Encouraged by his successes, the small myconid once again forces his attacks towards the demonic apostle. _Pull back or be my honorable meal* tonight._ The fact does not translate well to Buppido, but images of ritualistic cannibalisation of dead myconids appear in his mind. Stool's mental voice feels concerned.

*Spoiler*
Show

Shillelagh (1d20+5)[*12*] (1d20+5)[*6*] (adv. by Eyegore) (1d8+3)[*10*] plus (1d6)[*3*] necrotic
Halo of Spores (2d4)[*2*] vs DC 13 Con save








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  Hex (Faedryl's enemy)

Eyegore focusses on heckling the demon as he sees Stool being very successful and the oozes neither yielding eyes nor being dangerous enough. *If you kill them, I want the...ah what the hell.* it pokes at the apostle.

Meanwhile Nilvae enchants a batch of new stones and throws them, this time into the drow mage's melee. 

*Spoiler*
Show

(1d20+7)[*13*]
(1d6+3)[*5*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

The two drow act in synchronicity, each taking aim across at the other's menacing demonic foe. Bolt and shove of force land and each falls, one further than the other. With her aggressor slain, Faedryl launches another volley of magic missiles which thud into the slimy body of the demon cultist.


Stepping over Buppido's unconscious form, Derendil draws his gleaming frost-covered claw through the slime servant. Its body solidifies and cracks apart at the touch, shattering like green stained glass and scattering across the stone floor. Standing beside Stool, he faces down the undaunted demonic slime. Slithering and morphing its body out of the way of Stool's swing, 


Another enchanted rock in hand, Nilvae scans for targets after both of the demons are slain. The easiest is the large green slime advancing on Ront, so large it might as well be the broad side of a barn. And it proves just as easy to hit as she hurls another stone, impacting violently.

Mr. Spide sprays a net of webbing, catching the large slime and pressing it back against the wall. For the moment, it is a much easier target, but the webs quickly start dissolving and the slime runs out between the strands. Topsy follows up with a stone from her slingshot, the small impact chipping away just a little more slime. "We have this one locked down. We should kill that one before it starts using more magic," she says, nodding towards the Missionary.

*"Locked down, huh. Watch this,"* Jimjar boasts, taking aim at it with one hand and a gleam in his eye. The bolt is loosed, striking deep into the massive slime and piercing the core directly. The entire thing quivers and crumbles down into pieces within the dissolving net of webbing.


Stepping between Borthan and the enemy, Shuushar first reaches out to the critically wounded Buppido with his magic. "Comebubble back to us, mubstachio'd one." It is all Buppido can do to crawl back behind Derendil with the surge of strength from the spell, acid still covering him as he collapses again.

With a refreshed blessing from Shuushar, Ront advances towards the next giant slime, eager for battle. Slime from the ceiling slops down and manages to catch him this time, eating through his pseudo-divine protection and burning him as he slams the Geruzou skull into the giant slime. From behind him, a ray of frost strafes across its surface, freezing and cracking pieces off in the same manner as Derendil's claw.

The slime responds by moving forward and gulping Ront into its mass. The surrounding acid rapidly begins burning away at the orc's flesh.


Throwing back its head, the slime monster lets out a dreadful shriek. Inky darkness reaches out in malignant tendrils all around it, snaking in and through everything nearby. Ront, Derendil, Stool and Eye-Gore feel as though they are inside of a viscous liquid, moving at a dead slow pace. Bringing both arms to bear, the creature swings at Stool and at Derendil, but they are both able to evade its swings.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl Shoves north Geruzou off the ledge, dealing *9* falling damage and putting it down.
Faedryl casts Magic Missile, dealing *21* damage to the Missionary.
Sarith shoots south Geruzou for *9* damage, also taking it down.
Borthan passes a Death Save.
Derendil claws Green Slime for *21* damage, slaying it.
Eye Gore uses Help for Stool's attack on the Missionary.
Stool swings at the Missionary, but misses.
Both demons are down, so Nilvae hits Big Green Slime instead for *5* damage.

Mr. Spide shoots web at Big Green Slime, Restraining it. Briefly.
Topsy takes a shot at Big Green Slime, dealing *15* damage sneak attack thanks to the web.
Topsy uses Help against Missionary of Jubilex.
Jimjar critically sneak attacks Big Green Slime for *28*.
Shuushar uses Healing Word to get Buppido back up at *6*.
Shuushar uses Virtue on Ront again, for *6* temp hp.
Buppido takes *6* damage from the acid coating and goes down again.
Ront takes *9* terrain acid damage as some slops down onto him, and his armor is damaged.
Ront strikes Big Green Slime for *11* damage.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost, dealing *16* damage to Big Green Slime.

Stool deals *2* necrotic to the Missionary with his spores.
Missionary of Jubilex activates a dreadful aura, anything within has its Speed reduced to 5 feet. Creatures will suffer 1d4 Acid damage when they end their turn inside the aura.
Missionary of Jubilex misses two melee attacks on Stool and Derendil.
Green Slime slops at Stool, but misses.
Big Green Slime engulfs Ront, Restraining him and dealing *14* acid damage. His Studded Leather armor is destroyed, and his Shield is damaged.

Everyone is now up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Mr. Spide - 18
Topsy - 17
Jimjar - 16
*Borthan* - Delayed
Shuushar - 16
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 14.5
Buppido - 11
*Nilvae/Eye Gore/Stool* - 7
Ront - 8
*Derendil* - 4
Turvy - n1

Geruzou - Delayed
The Missionary of Jubilex - Delayed
Gray Ooze - Summoned
Green Slime - Delayed

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 17/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

She quietly, silently, thanks Sarith for putting down the demon in her path, and once again allowing her to cast freely without fear of being attacked. She tries to push one of the slimes back away from their line, and on top of their enemy, while at the same time clanging her throat to hopefully put down the stubborn demon worshiper for good.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Move:* None
*Bonus Acton:* Shove the ooze with ront inside 1NW, trying to get him to slobber over the missionary. (1d20)[*11*]+mods vs. DC14 strength save. 
*Action:* Toll the Dead on the missionary (1d20)[*18*]+mods vs DC14 Wis save or (1d12+2)[*4*] necrotic damage.






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Sarith continues his sequence. Try to still his breathing, to minimise his presence, and then throw himself up from the rope bridge to fire, before disappearing back down again. He does so, this time loosing his bolt at the ooze that holds Ront. How much damage it will do he doesn't know, but if it disrupted the mucus enough to allow the orc to pull himself free that would be something.





*Spoiler: Actions*
Show



*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Hide (1d20+6)[*15*]
*Move:* Pop up, shoot Ront's oozy jacuzzi, pop down.
*Action:* Attack the demon with a normal bolt. (1d20+8)[*23*] Advantage if successful hide: (1d20+8)[*18*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*10*]+(1d6)[*5*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 1/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan lies, unmoving. Then, in a maniac rush, his eyes surge open, he picks up his blades, and he charges screaming at the giant slime, stabbing at it with both hands like an undisciplined mad man, his mind wracked by pain, bleeding from several gaping wounds. A bloody fury has overcome him, and he will not back down.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20)[*20*] Death Save. EDIT- Well, since I rolled a nat 20, I'll move into combat with the giant ooze. An *11* to hit and a *23* to hit on an attack and a bonus attack. *7* piercing damage, and *6*more if the 11 hits. Attempting to cut Ront out.



*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 22/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (9 rounds)

Derendil slashes at the skeletal ooze, seeking to slash into it's gelatinous body and strike the statuette of the demon lord in it's core.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Reckless attack. (1d20+5)[*12*] or (1d20+5)[*24*] to hit, (1d6+5)[*6*] damage. (1d6)[*4*] if it hits.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP, 10 mins), Shillelagh (5/10 rds) 
Concentration: - 

The myconid continues its morbid, yet effective onslaught as it is slowed considerably as it is engulfed in a vat of viscous acid. Not immediately feeling any results, the fungus stays and attacks, now his attacks are pushing through the molasses with sheer willpower.

*Spoiler*
Show

Shillelagh (1d20+5)[*24*] for (1d8+3)[*8*] plus (1d6)[*2*] necrotic
Halo of Spores (2d4)[*7*] vs DC 13 Con save
I will use a reaction to Absorb Elements IF the acid damage exceeds 10 points.








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  Hex (Apostle)

Having no particular fondness of the brute and smelly orc, Nilvae instead aids Prince Derendil in bringing down the demonic foe. Her attacks pierce the gelatinous hide, but it is another question entirely if the throws connect.

Further in the front, Eyegore shakes his head slowly inside the acidic slime and disengages from poking the eyes. Some were not worth the effort.

*Spoiler*
Show

Eyegore disengages and moves back 5 ft.
Nilvae switches her Hex yet again and attack (1d20+6)[*14*] with MAGIC blunt damage (1d6+3)[*5*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Infested Crossroads*

A mental shove causes some ripples on the surface of the slime, but it doesn't budge an inch. Faedryl's magic likewise fails to grasp at the twisted life force of the demon slime.

Sarith takes aim and launches a bolt that pierces through the layers of slime, glides past Ront within, and strikes true into the heart of the oozing monster. It loses its consistency and dissolves down into a huge puddle of acid, Ront still knee deep in the stuff but no longer ensnared by it.


Pulling himself up from the floor into a dim, swirling consciousness, Borthan reaches deep for the strength to stand. Weapons in hand, he steps forward defiantly, nearing the twisted mass of black tendrils running around and through anyone near the demon priest. Two daggers he throws, one of them striking. Stone sinks into the gelatinous goo, and sits there, not dissolving as the metal and wood and other materials.

But the first thing that gives the thing pause is Derendil's claw. Hurling himself recklessly at it, he rakes across its surface with the frozen gauntlet. Gel solidifies and cracks, the bones within cracking and breaking off fragments with it, and the creature recoils for the first time. The opening created allows Stool to deliver a devastating blow, striking the frozen section and shattering deep into the creature's body. It cries out, the shuddering abyssal voice now tinged not with menace nor even with fear, but with surprise.

*Spoiler: Abyssal*
Show

*"Abominations!"*


Enchanting another stone in her palm, Nilvae curses the demon and hurls the projectile. It impacts, ripples of necrotic energy spreading through the thing's weakening mass.


Chittering, Mr. Spide extends a sleek, black chitinous leg and points at another green slime oozing its way towards them ever so slowly from the lower path. Webs spent and foes bubbling with acid, the spider remains guarded. Walking cautiously next to the spider, Topsy peers down and takes aim with her slingshot. It's a little far, but she manages to land a solid hit upon it. "Only minor trouble coming from the flanks," she reassures, allowing their strongest to focus on the bigger threats.

Moving up as well, Jimjar takes careful aim past Derendil. *"I've got it in my sights,"* he boasts, squeezing the trigger and releasing a bolt that sails straight through the crater left in the Missionary's slimy chest and into the idol at its core. The crystalline structure cracks, and the thing stops like it's been frozen in that moment. Then, it crumbles away one globule at a time until only slime and bone litter the ground where it stood. The dark inky tendrils wrapped around Borthan, strangling at his mind, finally recede and he feels a tightness in his chest loosen.


With their demonic messiah struck down, the slimes seem to become aimless, lacking that determined purpose they had under its command. With their bolts and spells the motley crew easily exterminates them, bringing quiet to the squelching and bubbling in this cursed crossroads. Shuushar drags Buppido back and cleans off the acid still coating him, stabilizing the derro with a softly spoken cantrip.

Acid still sizzles beneath some of their boots, as everyone moves to the now even scarcer clean ground. Ahead is more of the same, the crossroad covered in ooze, the signpost partially corroded and the writing obscured by slime. It will take some time to clean up, if they decide to cleanse this place rather than burn a path and move on.

*"Whew, that was dirty work. I could use a shower,"* Jimjar stretches out his arms and looks down towards the sounds of water. Lifting up the Geruzou skull gauntlet to admire it, Ront grunts in satisfaction at the prize. He'd gotten to pummel a few things, at least.

Turvy looks into one of the large slimes and finds her second to last dagger sizzling and withering away. She sighs and twirls the slingshot, catching the stone she shot as it comes back to her, bringing with it none of the slime. "This thing's a pretty good investment. Looks like the slimes don't eat stone."


Among the oily remains of the demons, both those transformed into oozes and those not, the group can see a tiny metallic gleam. Little off-green coins shaped like a maggot curled into a spiral, which feel off-putting to the touch. They do not seem to be damaged by the acid. Three more of the things can be found inside the remains of the Missionary's skull. The cracked statue also remains largely intact, and is made out of some kind of crystal.

Much to Eye-Gore's disappointment, none of the demons yield eyes. At least nothing that hasn't dissolved and mixed in with the goop.

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

-Ront's Geruzou skull gauntlet
-Two more Geruzou skulls if anyone feels like trophies
-Seven Coins bearing the image of maggots
*Spoiler: Arcana or Religion DC 18*
Show

The coins are Soul Tokens, used as currency by all manner of Fiends. The larval forms of evil souls that trickle down into the lower planes often eventually become the lowest of Fiends, pathetic things like lemures and manes, but for a long time remain dormant as Soul Larvae. Fiends collect them and transfigure them into coins to prevent their evolution into true Fiends, using the souls as currency or as materials to more quickly forge them into stronger servants.

-A lot of Acid if anyone has glass vials to collect acid flasks
-Cracked Jubilex Statue


*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl attempts to shove the Big Green Slime, but it resists.
Faedryl casts Toll the Dead on the Missionary, but he passes the save.
Sarith shoots Big Green Slime for *15* sneak attack damage, enough to slay it.
Borthan avoids some falling slime and moves up. His target is dead, so he stops short of the jello aura and throws at the Missionary for *3* damage after Resistance, and a miss. He evades a falling slime blob from the ceiling.
Derendil slashes the Missionary for *14* damage. He takes *1* acid damage from the aura.
Stool whaps the Missionary for *10* damage. He takes *4* acid damage from the aura, absorbed by his symbiotic entity.
Nilvae hits the Missionary for *8* damage (rolled for Hex damage in Discord).
Eye-Gore Disengages and moves away. He takes *3* acid damage from the aura.

Mr. Spide Dodges.
Topsy shoots downstairs Green Slime for *6* damage.
Topsy uses Help vs the Missionary.
Jimjar shoots the Missionary for an *8* damage sneak attack, finishing it off.

The remaining slimes are too slow to post a real threat before they're cut down. The party is victorious.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

"I wouldn't object to a bath." Faedryl comments in what could be seen as agreement and conversation with Jimjar. "Probably not the best spot for one though. We should get through the goo and then find a spot to take a breather." Almost methodically, and with scant wait, she goes back to burning a path forward through the slime with her flames, steadily moving forwards. She could recover some of her spells with just an hour or so. They just needed to find somewhere that wasn't so sizzling on the skin and armour. 

Leaving the fire to itself for a moment she scrutinises the coins, but finds their auspices unclear. Whatever they were, they were _probably_ valuable to _someone_. Same with the cracked statue, which she scoops up and drops in her bag. Maybe they'd see the goblins again at some point, or perhaps the dwarves were in the market for a damaged demon statue. Well, it could probably be broken down and its raw materials used for _something_. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


The death of the missionary with Hexblade Curse heals Faedryl +2 HP.
Continue to burn a path through the slime with Create Bonfire. 





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

With the threat disabled, Sarith pulls himself out of his 'hiding' spot. He carefully pokes around the bodies for anything of value - primarily his crossbow bolts - but finds little that can be recovered. Lacking much else to contribute with, he takes one of Faedryl's torches and sets about assisting with the path clearance. The sooner they were through here, the better.




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show



Guessing he can't recover any bolts since they're slimey. Takes one of Faedryl's torches to assist with burning the slime.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP, 10 mins), Shillelagh (5/10 rds) 
Concentration: - 

Stool immediately calms down as his foe is vanquished and he sees the general tide of battle go. He was young, but he knew, he smelled when danger was over. Seeing no one tend to the large scary orc, the tiny myconid with the comically large stick waddles over to Ront. He regurgitates a few mushrooms he kept in his "stomach pouch" and hums. He then offers them with a mental invasion of the orc's mind. Take those to stay strong. We need to make weapon for you, too.

*Spoiler*
Show

Good"berry" cast for Ront.








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  Hex (Apostle)


Eye-Gore rummaged for anything salvagable. Not even partially dissolved eyes. He knew he didn't find eyes, but he wasn't done hoping. Soft tissue like that was always the first to go. He looked at the demon skull, but only to imagine the silly look it would have if he put eyeballs into the eye sockets to spook someone. Sad, he returns to Nilvae, who is starting to have a proper freakout. The fey-blessed girl calms down, seeing her friends no longer be dissolved by acid and slimes and demons. 

A bit of serenity washes over her, as she starts thinking. Her "gifts" were proper ****e in the Underdark. Drow were resistant to her tricks and did not care for slumbering magic, as Puck even used this to take her away from her husband. These things were not of this world, they could not be reasoned with nor enchanted. And she knew animals were around just very shy, probably because she was moving in a fricking warband instead of meandering calmly through a meadow. I know Puck is just a trickster, but I'm a weirdo in the wrong waters.

Eyegore flutters down. *Calm down, calm down girl. Maybe if I got you a really nice pair of eyes?*

----------


## RandomWombat

Receiving the mushrooms, Ront immediately dumps the bundle from his large hand into his large mouth. He chews the squishy mass, immediately beginning to feel better as their magic mends his wounds and fills his stomach. With a pleased grunt, he slaps his belly. *"Mind talk still creep me out. But you okay little mushroom."* Setting the Geruzou skull upon his head for now to carry it, and looking quite pleased at the savage and fearsome look it provides, he adds, *"I am a weapon. A finely tuned instrument. 'N now I got this for stuff I can't touch."* He points at the skull on his head.

"I habe brebared magic bloo fill containers wibb water," Shuushar mentions helpfully. As the others clear away slime from their path, he makes preparations for a short ritual of healing. A soft blue circle forms around the place he kneels and meditates, six orbs of light appearing around the circumference. Each lifts off and drifts away, melding into the chest of one of their wounded frontline - another pair following the first into Buppido and Borthan, who were the most hurt.

The touch of the spheres leaves each of them feeling refreshed, and their wounds rapidly mending. Buppido kips up to his feet and reflexively looks around for the enemy. Finding none, he nonchalantly retracts the blade into his wrist mount and starts walking as though he hadn't nearly died multiple times within the past few minutes.

Breathing a sigh of relief seeing everyone is still alive, Shuushar stands once more. 

*Spoiler: Healing*
Show

Ront regains *10* from Goodberry.
Shuushar uses Prayer of Healing, restoring *25* to Borthan and *26* to Buppido, Ront for *16*, and Derendil for *13*.


Everyone begins making their way past the signpost and further down the main road. Buppido opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it and hums a jaunty tune.


Further ahead the path grows thinner, forcing the group into a two-by-two file line. To the sides of the road they pass by a pair of small structures Borthan pegs as minor duergar checkpoints. Places for guards to be posted and inspect travelers passing into Gracklstugh's territory - though they have to still be far off, as they've traveled less than an hour away from the crossroads, they seem to have taken a turn towards the grey dwarf city. The checkpoint structures are occupied by four slain duergar, stinking of several days' worth of rot.

"I can't shake the feeling that we're going the _wrong way_," Topsy comments dryly.

*Spoiler: Medicine*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

The men were killed with bladed weapons.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

Though blades have torn into the flesh of these men, the angles are wrong for any kind of sword or dagger unless it was serrated. It looks more like claws and teeth have torn into them.

There are no signs of slime, and the bodies have not been consumed, ruling out their 'friend' from the crossroads.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

The room stinks of more than just death. There is something noxious in the air. It causes a sensation of nausea even in those accustomed to the smell of death, but lingering has likely reduced the potency even sitting here in an underground room. It must have been debilitating at the time, some sort of toxic chemical weapon perhaps? Dwarves are resistant to poison however, so someone deploying this sort of chemical weapons against them would not have been very smart.

Two dwarves had their ankles sliced open by claws from a small animal or aberration, and were clawed to death by what looks like a mob of the same.

The other two were cleaved open by something (or somethings) much larger, which tore through their breastplates with as much force as any greataxe.


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

Mixed in among the dark, dried blood staining the floors is an ichor that is still sticky and tacky. It has a sickly black-brown color. It is not dwarf blood, and shares some properties with the dissolved remains of the slain Geruzou - but it isn't quite the same.

*Spoiler: DC 12 Arcana or Religion*
Show

These are the ichor remains of a slain dretch, the lowest order of demon. Or more accurately, several slain dretches. The dwarves took some of their attackers with them.




Ahead down the tunnel, Borthan spots a glow of flickering lanternlight, a light that is approaching.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on: 

*At the Slimy Crossroads*

Borthan approached Faedryl, newly healed and no longer mistrusting and hallucinating, and entirely focused on a single goal. "Hey, Faedryl? Mind if I look over that statue? Something about it caught my eye, and I want to investigate further." When she hands him the statue, he immediately hurls it to the stone and begins stomping on it. When that proved only marginally effective, he drew one of his axes and turned it over, using it to hammer the statue into fragments and pieces. He takes a few pieces and hurls them into the depths of the darkness. "Stupid thing put fishhooks in my brain. You can sell the pieces, but in one piece that thing was dangerous. Trust me, it wasn't pleasant. If ya'll want to keep the pieces it's up to you, but my share gets thrown down a deep hole, never to be seen again." He sighs for a moment, eyes down, face uncertain and haunted, before lifting his face with the same sarcastic grin playing across his features that was normally there. "Anyway, craziness aside, back to clearing slime. I'm lighting a torch this time. I want outta here fast."


*At the Grey Dwarf Checkpoint*

Borthan kneeled over the bodies, checking the wounds with a gloved finger on one hand before standing up. "Attacked with tooth and claw by... sumthin. We are going the wrong way, that's for sure. But someone is coming our way. I suggest we put out our lights, take cover, and let em pass by, then... Borthan turns to consider the dead dueregar for a moment, a twinge of sympathy nearly coming to fruition in his chest. He smashed it to death with practicality. "Then we either get moving, and fast, away from Grey Dwarf territory. All of you are in danger of being enslaved if you're caught, and my freedom is dependent on a name and a prayer. The only business we got heading towards duergar is if there's looting to be done in the wake of whatever did this." He turned to Buppido and spoke in the language that they shared. "If you want to get off the wagon, now's the time. And if you need an escort into Gracklstugh, I'll take you in and drop you off. The rest can't risk it, and we both know that. Unless you have a lot more pull than any of us can figure, derro."




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (10 rounds)

Derendil, looking down at the bodies, makes an educated guess. Then, with a playful look in his feline eye, he turns to Jimjar. I bet demons did this.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Oozy Road*

Faedryl pointedly exhales through her nose in quiet irritation when Borthan smashes the statue but otherwise doesn't move to stop him or interfere. She understands his position just fine and doesn't even really disagree with his actions, she just wishes he'd smashed it in a way that it was slightly easier to recover the pieces from. She doesn't gesture as she calls forth a spectral hand to begin picking up the pieces and placing them in her bag as she continues to clear the ooze with flames. 

*Duergar Checkpoint*

"You're probably correct." Faedryl confirms to Derendil as she peers at the dwarf's wounds. "Though perhaps not the ones we encountered. The wounds on these legs are low down, ankle height." She gestures casually as she explains, crouching down and miming the act. "They then seem to have jumped on the fallen enemy and overwhelmed it with numbers. At least some of the attackers were likely diminutive, rather than the large ones we just fought." She sniffs the air, forcing herself to get used to the pungent stench. "Demons that deployed some sort of...poison gas? Odd choice if they were fighting dwarves."

Faedryl frowns at the news of others approaching. If they ran, they'd be chased. If they stayed, they'd be accused of perpetrating the deaths, either legitimately or as a thin justification. "Hiding seems best, but be ready to fight. I doubt we could talk our way out of this."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae investigates further as her new best friend Faedryl mentions her findings. She takes a finger full of the oozey goo and tastes it. Hmm, tastes otherworldly. she finally judges it, managing to get a few weirded out looks. And smells like the Jubilex fellah. The dwarves musta encountered them too! But if they were oozes, jumping into them from high ground makes no sense. Ankle biting neither. I assume they were Kamaitachi. Demonic weasels with sickles for hands.

*Spoiler*
Show

Medicine 20 into Religion for 4. Pulling up some obscure Japanese lore.

----------


## RandomWombat

*At the Infested Crossroads*

Nobody seems broken up by the destruction of the Jubilex statue, with only Turvy jumping in fright at the sudden smashing it's given. Jimjar looks approvingly upon Borthan's actions, a sincere smile on his face seeing the demonic icon shattered.

Buppido takes one of the broken pieces and examines it between two of his fingers. "It is a shame when good material goes to waste." Slipping it into his pocket, he waits for the way to be cleared of slime.

Topsy waves a hand, "I'll pass." Her brother nods in agreement, and Ront eyes the statue with superstitious wariness, keeping his distance from it. 

Only Shuushar also braves taking a piece. "Ib dargness sdill bubbles around id, I can pragdice exorcism on id," he reasons.

*At the Duergar Checkpoint*

*"You may be right,"* Jimjar looks up at Derendil with a sly grin, tapping his finger on his chin. *"But I'll take the odds and wager ten gold there was someone behind the demons. Demons don't just show up out of nowhere after all,"* he speculates. He offers Derendil his much smaller hand to shake on the wager.

Looking at the scene with detached disinterest, Buppido is stroking his mustache and beard in thought when Borthan addresses him and pulls him out of his mental machinery. "I have friends of my own in the city, dear ranger. It is making contact with them before rivals that presents a minor obstacle," he says in his silken voice. "If I must, I shall travel alone and let destiny guide my feet. Perhaps we will meet again someday."

Picking up one of the dead dwarves who's nearly been chopped in half by something, Ront points out the wound. *"Something small kill others. Big thing kill this one."*

With someone approaching, the group takes cover in the wretched checkpoint, filled with the smell of death and worse. Whoever is outside may be too put off to even enter, if they are lucky. While they lurk inside, Nilvae reaches down and takes some of the demonic ichor on her finger, placing it in her mouth much to the gaping horror of those nearby - though Buppido just looks mildly amused.

The taste is horrible beyond description. It is like placing toxic waste inside of her mouth, and Nilvae soon vomits on the ground involuntarily. The foul taste does not fade as she hurls it up out of her body however, and she feels an unpleasant crawling sensation in her limbs as she wretches. Her vision flickers, and the room dims.

*Spoiler: Nilvae*
Show

Waking dreams pass before her eyes, between the flickers of light and dark. Huge furred shapes move, piling bodies into a tower. Flesh is shaped and carved, until faces are gaunt with their skin stretched to meet one another and mouths are gaping as if screaming. Eyes light up with terrible purpose as pounding, thrashing _music_ begins to assault her sense of hearing. Dust and pieces of stone fall from the ceiling around her, shaken loose by the pulsing beat. Words in that same crawling tongue the slime priest spoke shimmer on the edge of her hearing.

*Spoiler: Sanity*
Show

Nilvae must attempt a DC 10 Sanity check as a side effect of the vision.



"Somebody _shut her up_," Topsy hisses quietly, as Nilvae continues to retch on the floor.


Outside, the jingling of weapons and armor approaches. "What the **** is that smell?" "Something died here. We should be careful." Voices in common speak outside of the shut door. Footsteps approach the door, and the light underneath shows someone standing just outside, listening at the door.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan looks at Nilvae in disbelief as she does the most insane thing he has seen from her to date. As Topsy whispers angrily and the people outside the door come close, Bort looks to Faedryl. "Too late for stealth now. Try talkin to em, before they kick down the door and throw a spell in here."




*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil shakes his head at Jimjar, silently denying the bet. He thought the odds were in the deep gnome's favor, for one, and for two he didn't have ten gold. It wasn't proper for a prince to go into debt for something so frivolous.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --


*Duergar Checkpoint*

"That's-" "A terrible idea. First of all, she's a drow. Obviously. Second, they're knee deep in dead dwarves. Third, the last few times she'd tried to convince someone of anything it hadn't gone well." Is what she wanted to say, but in truth they didn't have much in the way of alternate options. If they'd been heard, they'd be discovered soon enough, and waiting to be discovered would look worse than engaging them in good faith directly. "Just be ready if they don't want to listen." She murmurs, before raising her voice.

"In the spirit of open discourse we are announcing our presence." She begins, her voice raised to those outside, her words landing with unnatural cadence. She wasn't a diplomat, after all. "Before any of us do something we'd regret, we'd like to talk." It was all she could really say without knowing who was on the other side. Dwarves, presumably. Hopefully ones that would see their eclectic band and not jump to conclusions on the situation.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  -

Switching between the very real retching and vomitting and the surreal sights her mind beheld, Nilvae caught herself almost drowning in the intoxicating and disgusting dreams the ichor induced. Topsy's sharp command drew her back from the fringe of reality, and into her body. She held up an arm to signal she was better now.

She shoots Eyegore a look that says "scram and deal with the situation". *YEAHYEAH, let me handle the incredibly difficult social interaction. Because you're not the force of personality that convinced a god damned fey lord to gift you some of his powers.* Eyegore snarks as he covers himself in magical darkness and advances. 

What can you see? Nilvae asks the air, and recites Eyegore's descriptions truthfully, but with the insufficient focus the chaotic dark fey would add.

----------


## RandomWombat

Eyegore's darkness fills up the checkpoint room, but does not pierce the stone door into the cavern corridor outside. The small fey, however, is able to peer through the rather large dwarven keyhole in the door. On the other side, he can see a brown eye lit dimly from below by firelight looking in.

"Can't see **** captain, too dark in there," the fey overhears a whisper on the other side. Whoever is on the other side stands back up, an armored hip now standing outside the keyhole. Judging by size it's certainly no dwarf. Whoever it is carries a lantern at their side.

"Alright, we're talking," the other voice says hesitantly. "Who are you, lurking in some-"

"There's dead dwarves in here," a third voice cuts in, from the direction of the other half of the checkpoint. Through the door across the corridor. "Greys. Looks like somebody chopped 'em up with an axe."

"Yeah?" the 'lead' voice asks, rhetorically. Then towards the door they ask after Faedryl, "Who are you, lurking in some... _room_ full of dead greys?"

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

The keyhole is large enough for one of Eyegore's insect forms to climb out of. But the darkness would go with and definitely alert those outside.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Duergar Checkpoint*

"It's-" _"-polite to introduce yourself before asking others who they are,"_ is what she stops herself from saying. She'd get the hang of this yet. Maybe. "We are a group of escaped drow prisoners, who killed our captors and left. We arrived here shortly before you did, and as you can no doubt tell these dwarves have been dead for a number of days, likely upwards of a week." Best to avoid any accusations of them doing the deed. That should be sufficient introduction, at least.

"Who are you?"

----------


## RandomWombat

"How long they been dead?" the lead voice can be heard by Eyegore through the keyhole, speaking aside to someone else.

"Hells should I know? I ain't a doctor."

After a brief pause of silence following Faedryl's introduction, the person on the other side speaks again. "Alright. We're in kind of the same boat, caught by some greys. Slavers."

"They were attacked by monsters further down the road," another, slightly skittish voice speaks up from beyond the more confident one. "We were able to turn the tables on them after they slew the beasts."

"Say, you got any food to share with another recently emancipated buncha folks? We been starving all day," the voice asks through the stone door.

*Spoiler: Insight*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

The poor man sounds hungry.


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

It is a loaded question, and he is not a skilled deceiver. So far he's only heard Faedryl's voice, maybe Nilvae's, and knows nothing of their numbers. The man is probably gauging the value of robbing them.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  -

We are barely hanging on by a thread, too. I am sorry, we cannot extend such niceties to you. I mean, our proudest warrior Ront is caving in skulls with another skull, and successfully. Talk about lack of ressources. Nilvae beckons the huge orc. Come on Ront. Tell these men of your plight. 

*And the brute wouldn't even leave juicy eyes for me.* Eyegore's shrill voice adds. If all you have is a skull, you just mash people's heads in until you find a weapon. he tries to paraphrase a mortal's saying.

*Spoiler*
Show

Nilvae Intimidation supported by Eyegore (1d20+4)[*5*] though honestly I would prefer Ront's help action this time.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Can we just open the door now? Ifn' they want to fight, the surest way to dissuade them of that notion will be to show our numbers and our strength of arms. Convincing himself, Borthan attempts to boot open the door.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 (1d20+5)[*6*] to kick open the door. Or to yank it inward if it moves in that direction, though that would be far less dramatic. Rolled a 20 on insight in the Discord.

----------


## RandomWombat

Tapping on the stone wall with his bone 'gauntlet', Ront growls through the door, *"Prefer my bare hands. But some things can't touch, so use a demon skull instead."* His words follow Nilvae's and the people outside go silent.

"Ah, alright. I guess we'll just hit the-" the lead voice on the other side starts to say, when Borthan grabs hold of the door and throws it open. He's unable to catch the man outside off guard with the sudden action, the stone door simply too slow and ponderous to swipe him before he can back off.

On the other side are a ragtag group of four human men. They're wearing scavenged duergar armor ripped and crudely adjusted to cover at least _some_ of their bodies, and likewise armed with duergar weapons, but are all very clearly human. The one doing the talking is a grizzled middle-aged man holding a battleaxe in both hands, with a dwarven crossbow and quiver of bolts on his back. In front of the door with the lantern is an older man of northern heritage with a shaved head, carrying a battleaxe of his own in his free hand. Behind them is a handsome, dark-haired young man wearing a black coat overtop of some lighter armor. And lastly, bringing up the rear, is a skittish looking man clad in a ragged green hooded tunic. He was fidgeting with his hands, and jumps in surprise as Borthan opens the door.

"Ah ****," the leader of the escaped slaves backs off as the darkness generated by Eyegore creeps out into the hall, soon covering everything in darkness that blinds (most of) both sides of the exchange. "You demons too then?!" he calls out defiantly into the dark.

"N, no! I don't taste good!" the skittish man yelps.

A blade clatters against the stone door between Borthan and where the lantern-bearer was, but the obstacle prevents it from connecting. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

The party may roll into Initiative if they wish, or attempt to defuse the situation.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  -

Eyegore lifts the darkness and flutters onto Ront's massive shoulder. *You really wanna fight our insane team? A mentally unstable demonologist, a MASSIVE orc, several skilled underdark warriors, and a drow witch? Do you really?*

I am NOT mental. I just wanted to try the demon ichor to see what it tastes like. Nilvae interjects in a hurt voice. And you forgot our shapeshifting donkey-spider. As she beckons Mr Spide, the huge spider hisses at the intruders.

*Spoiler*
Show

Intimidation 23 (or 22 if adv./disadv)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil holds up his palms in a placating gesture. "Not demons, and not interested in fighting! One of our more brutish members simply grew tired of communicating through a door, and he seems to have forgotten that we were under the effects of a darkness spell. We mean you no harm! 




*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan grunts, considering whether to take offense at being called "brutish". Instead he nods along. "Yeah. No fight needed. Unless ya'll want to start trouble."

----------


## RandomWombat

As the shroud of darkness falls, the door now open with their motley assemblage illuminated in eerie lanternlight standing behind Borthan, the four humans are halted mid action and their faces pale. "****. Drow and... _fishmen_... and one of those crazy greys." Their once-courageous leader can't even take in the full scope of their group at a mere glance.

The green hooded man begins sidling along the wall past the others, clearly aiming to flee down the tunnels the way the motley crew came. Folding his coat back over a sheathed weapon they can't quite make out before it's veiled, the man in the coat holds up his palms, imitating Derendil's gesture. 

Only the old northerner seems unperturbed, his face the grim mask of one who has seen more terrible things than an assortment of monstrous mortals in a room full of mauled duergar. Grip remaining firm on lantern and axe, he lowers his weapon all the same. "We're clearly outmatched," he says, both to his cohorts and to those now staring them down. "So... what is it you want, then?"

"Y, yeah. No harm, right?"

Ront looks down at them with a sneer that says he'd be perfectly happy to do harm if given half an excuse. No expression save for serene calm mars Buppido's face, but his tendencies speak for themselves. Neither of the twins seem to have an opinion one way or another.

"Berhabs dey can brovibe us wib some imformaden," Shuushar says quietly in his clogged, burbling voice.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil, agreeing with Shushar's assessment, speaks up. We are not bondsmen or raiders, so we'll take neither your life nor your meager goods, but if you could tell us what we may find if we continue on this path it would be well appreciated, my recently freed friends.




*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan checks his supplies to see if he has any food to pass on to the former slaves, handing over any extra he can find from his old rations and his recent scavenging.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Duergar Checkpoint*

She doesn't move to stop Bort but she does roll her eyes quietly to herself. If he was going to inflict charity on himself for every group of needy in the wider underdark then they'd quickly lack anything of their own to give. They weren't exactly swimming in food, drinkable water and supplies in general. They had no camp, no safe haven, and this checkpoint certainly wasn't one. With the apparent danger passed though, she signals Sarith to assist her in continuing to rummage through the area and find anything that might be useful - either on the corpses or otherwise. Certainly if they were taken unawares by rampaging demons there would be some supplies remaining, unless the duergar had their positions live literally hand to mouth.

----------


## RandomWombat

The northerner lowers his axe, letting it drop to his side and gripping the top of the blade as if it were a cane resting on the ground. His fellows, their one-eyed leader included, watch Borthan poke through his supplies with hungry eyes. Even the skittish one pauses in his preparations to flee into the dark.

Truthfully, their supplies are scarce. Borthan has been able to keep them going 'day to day,' as much as such things can be tracked down here. Moss, mushrooms, cave lizards, trickling water down damp walls. Nothing tasty and nothing that holds for very long. But he finds a pair of rolled up moss balls he had wrapped away in some of their cleaner cloth. Less appealing than rice balls, but a hungry stomach will take what it can get.

Stepping cautiously forward, the balding brigand leader takes the offered morsels and to his credit makes sure they're divided in equal halves among his fellows. "Aye, thanks, really," he says, still wary but grateful. And well aware of the consequences of rudeness.

"If you go on you will find what remains of our slave wagon. Perhaps an hour or two, keeping time down here is not so easy."

"Two giant, hulking lizard things attacked. With a swarm of these little, deformed fat goblin things. They came charging down the tunnel as soon as they saw the slaver caravan. They could still be nearby."

"And they all stunk like high hell," the handsome man in the coat waves a hand in front of his face, now taking on a calmer posture with the violence de-escalated.


Meanwhile, Faedryl searches the area for anything of use or value left behind by the dwarves. The armor of those slain by the larger demons is too broken and rent to be of use, but those who died to the anklebiters still bear usable mail. The interior of the checkpoint includes a wooden table and chairs (dwarf sized), with the table broken in half during the fight. There are stone shelves along one of the walls where some broken jars litter the floor, smelling slightly of smoked meat beneath the stench still pervading the room. Whatever preserved supplies were here, the demons have taken or gorged themselves on.

Opposite the supply wall is the dwarves' sleeping area, bunks carved into the wall with stiff mattresses set into them that would be uncomfortable to most, but perfect for a dwarf. Beneath the bunks and set against the wall are a series of zurkhwood footlockers containing the dwarves' personal belongings. Being grey dwarves there is not much in the way of sentimentality, each containing a money pouch and a few useful amenities. Including a pair of cylindrical rolls of soft zurkhwood paper, which Faedryl recognizes as a duergar invention known as 'toilet paper'. An extremely valuable luxury export from the grey dwarves which is used to clean oneself after using the 'facilities'.

Just off to the side of the bedding area is a second room, containing a lavatory.

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

4 Battleaxes
2 Spiked Metal Shields (Inflicts 1+Str Mod damage when using the Shove action against an enemy)
2 Pikes
2 Heavy Crossbows
30 Heavy Crossbow Bolts
1 Chain Shirt
3 suits of Chainmail

29 gold pieces
10 silver pieces
2 rolls of toilet paper (20 gold value each)
Masonry tools
6 Whetstones
2 jars of beard wax

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  -

Did they smell like Abyss. Tasted like puss and sulfur? Nilvae inquires as if this was the normalest thing in the world. Probably more demons. she says to her friends. She shoos Eyegore away to scout.

*YESYES, send the tiny dude along to check if the evil big demons are there. Not like I have anything better to do. Waste of eyes, not even picking a fight this bunch.* With that, the small fey vanishes in the dark, advancing in front of the group.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan digs deeper into his pack and finds his rations from before he was captured- dried meat, molasses strapped oats, and, his own personal touch, some wild mint leaves for chewing after the meal. Without a word he hands each of the escaped slaves one of these leather wrapped packages. Then, his conscience abated, he joins Faedryl in rooting through the grey dwarves belongings. He looks over the gear of the deceased with a bit more of a knowledgeable eye than the others- dueregar might not be sentimental, but their weapons are well cared for and their few personal belongings are more cherished than most would think. He doesn't give much of a damn about sentiment either, now that he thinks of it. Probably because he was raised by these *******s. However, he does take a keen interest in the whetstones and the battle axes. Picking up one in each hand, his mind goes back to a memory of Vrek. The old bald bastard had bound a battle axe in each of young Borthan's hands and told him that if he let them droop to his side he'd be whipped till he couldn't stand. Bort had let the axes droop once, but one whipping was all he needed. Now, with all that training, he could spin even these large axes across his wrist and catch them, twirling both axes at once in a display of skill few could manage. It felt good to be armed with dueregar steel and a weapon big enough to cleave a demon in two.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil picked up one of the spiked shields gingerly, unused to such a brutish implement. He touched a finger to a spike and gave a small yelp as the sharpened tip cut into his flesh. His wooden shield had taken quite a beating between the escape and the slime attacks, so he reverently placed it on the ground, whispering a farewell to a faithful servant in Elvish, before shouldering this more durable and dangerous shield.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Duergar Checkpoint*

She hadn't been expecting much, but what she found is far less than _much._ Slim pickings for an outpost taken unawares, but military sparseness seemed the order of the day. At least a drow outpost would've had luxuries in the priestess' chamber. She sighs, gathering up what little of note she finds. Perhaps they would find someone in desperate need of beard wax in the future. She leaves the talking up to Nilvae - she's got no interest in engaging with the runaways unless they're joining up, and every moment they're around them is another moment for them to decide to shiv them in the back. 





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Though it was a bit heftier than he was used to, the heavy crossbow was still a fine alternative to his single-handed ranged weapon. Bristling with bolts, he straps it to his back silently, allowing the others to take what they want or need. They lacked the storage or transport for most of the items, and traveling light was the order of the day when they didn't know where or when their next safe rest would be.

----------


## RandomWombat

"Uh," the leader rubs the back of his head at Nilvae's question, wrinkling his nose. "Sulphur, sure, I guess. Don't really know what puss smells like." He steps aside as Eyegore flies out and down the tunnel ahead of them, vanishing into the darkness beyond.

The four escaped would-be slaves are caught off guard by Borthan's continued generosity. To his silent passing of the food they each nod and offer small words of thanks, as they are without much more to offer in turn.

"And ah, sorry about jumping to any uh, conclusions," he adds, beginning to lead his people onwards, motioning the old northerner to light the way. "Thanks. Careful out there if you're hunting demons."


The group is left to their looting. The weapons and armor are too heavy for most of their group, but Ront takes up the second of the two abandoned shields. His, too, had taken some punishment from the slimes. Picking up one of the dwarven chain shirts, he holds it up to himself and finds it much too small. Taking some of the masonry tools, he uses them as an improvised means to rip open the sides of the chain shirt and puts it on like an armored tabbard over his leather armor beneath, using cloth strips from the dwarves' ruined clothing to bind it in place. The crude armor accompanied by his heavy fur cloak looks fitting on his brutish form as he stands back up and stretches his neck. Picking up the other huge dwarven crossbow, he slings it up onto his back, still keeping the smaller one at his hip. The weight of all the equipment doesn't look like it hampers him at all - if anything he looks more comfortable with the weight on his shoulders.

Buppido and Topsy each take one of the whetstones to maintain their blades.

Shuushar picks up one of the pikes, holding the weapon's weight and length rather awkwardly with his hunched stature. Leaning against the wall in the now-empty tunnel outside and covering her mouth with a cloth from the smell, Topsy makes a small amused grunt. "Thought you were all about peace, fish doc." Turvy is standing beside her, fidgeting furtively with his hands.

"Demons and undead are differend. And a den food pole iblb useful for many dings," the kuo-toa reasons, adjusting his grip to bring the pike out into the hallway.

"Can't argue with that. So, what's the plan?" she asks, looking between Borthan and Faedryl - clearly considering the two of them to be 'in charge' of their motley band of escapees. "Are we doubling back to go the other way back to Sloopidoop? I don't see much reason to go picking a fight with some rampaging demons."

"They do seem... like there are a lot of them suddenly," Turvy points out, picking at one of his fingernails. "It's definitely not normal for so many demons to be wandering around on the Material. I feel like we need to learn why."

"By what, interrogating a demon?"

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

All the talk about demons, then the dead dwarves and their metal armor is making Stool increasingly uncomfortable. He exudes another batch of pheromonesque spores. Push forward, to my home. We normally hear Psilofyr loud and clear, his scent wafting through caves, but his song muted, like something in way. The "tone" of his mental voice is sad and anxious. Like a small child that got their parents to move towards a candy shop and half-way they stop. But also sad and fearful, almost breaking at the thought of their home being gone.

Don't stop now. Neverlight Grove defensible. Can set up camp there, even if family fled.







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  -

This time, Nilvae is the silent one. She has nothing to add to the conversation, and even trying to lift one of the crossbows is met with heavy grunting on her part. She handles it quite well though, but comes to the conclusion that her eldritch gifts are far better suited for combat.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Duergar Checkpoint*

"I'll take fish over mushrooms." Faedryl adds to the discussion. Stool notwithstanding she trusts myconids not a bit, and Stool not that much more. No telling what spores or infections they'd pick up if they visited a full myconid grove. They could all end up as parasitised meat puppets, and she'd rather keep a hold of her faculties. Kua-toa weren't trustworthy, but at least she could see everything they did coming. 

"I doubt a demon has anything of interest to tell us, and even if it did there's no way we can trust its words, but as long as it doesn't put us in any additional risk then capturing one to interrogate won't hurt." She pauses as she adjusts the grip on her shield. "Probably."





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

In contrast, Sarith can't help but feel a draw towards the myconid. Answers may await him there for his temporary madness and odd condition, but when Faedryl speaks up against it he keeps his mouth shut, falling into figurative 'line'.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan looked over the band of misfits and chewed at his lip. He waited till everyone had said their piece before speaking up. The kid has not other place to go. He should be with his own kind, and he can't survive on the surface, which is where some of us are plannin on endin up. I say we take him to his people- everyone else here could conceivably make due wherever we ended up, but kids should be raised by families. Or whatever myconids have that comes close. After that, I don't really care where we go, as long as it eventually goes up. I moved outta this pit for a reason. I miss my cabin. If we have to kill some monsters to get there, that sounds fine to me.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil considered his own position before deciding that the barbarous half-drow had a point- he was willing to risk his life to get a child back to it's family. I concur with Borthan. I say we bring the child home, then make our plans from a position of relative safety, assuming the myconids appreciate our efforts. They are a knowledgeable people, perhaps they will have information that can get us where we mean to go quicker. His last statement was purely speculative, but he hoped he could convince the others to his way of thinking. I do also think it prudent that we find out what all these demons are doing. They could be a threat to not just the Underdark but the surface as well if they are gathering in these numbers. Borthan grunted at this, indifferent at this moment to the threat of massing fiends.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Motley Crew*

"The grove isn't far from Blingdenstone, so I've got no complaints about dropping the mushroom off," Topsy says, though in her ever-prickly tone.

"Well," beginning to interject to Faedryl's comment, Turvy trails off until Topsy elbows him in the side. "Ah- yes. Well, demons are susceptible to the same truth-telling magic as mortals. And the low ranking ones tend to be... unintelligent. It's not like devils where even the lessers know how to twist your words."

"Course that means they might be too stupid to know anything. But why not."

Wearing a broad tusky grin, Ront looks around at their sizeable group. He seems confident in their abilities as he announces, *"We will be known as demonslayers. It is a good title."*

"Naturally, I am for any plan that helps clear my way to Gracklstugh," Buppido concurs.

The group's consensus begins to lean towards dealing with the demons first for curiosity's sake, before turning around to the kuo-toa village. It is not a far detour. They begin trailing down the tunnels in the direction Eyegore left to scout.

*Eyegore*

It is a quiet, boring trip through the tunnels. Compared to even the gloomy dark woods and swamps of the unseelie fey, this place is colorless and boring. Rocks. Rocks. Not even rocks shaped like eyes, which would make them marginally more tolerable. More rocks. Some mushrooms that glow a little, snuffing out their little lights provides a moment's amusement.

Then Eyegore comes upon another crossroads. Three enclosed, wheeled cages are hooked to one another and reined to a pair of large furry spiders (jackpot!). The spiders, and a couple of their dull-skinned duergar masters, are lying in pools of blood, seeping from wounds both small and large. Not all are dead in this forsaken caravan, however.

Surviving duergar have been loaded into their own slave wagons and left there, bound and bloodied but still alive. One of them is dressed in a less uniform manner to the others, with some slight color to her hair that Eyegore can't make out in the dark and a pair of goggles on her forehead. Two males, three females, and one creature that doesn't match the rest. It's a reptilian humanoid with drab stone-colored scales, a flat spearhead-shaped face, and a few spined crests running down the top of its head. The creature is clad in a robe made out of greenish scales that form the collar and shoulders, flowing out into dark purple cloth that looks far more civilized than the creature wearing it. On the chest of the robe is a symbol of an eye(!) surrounded by a bunch of other iconography like horns and blah blah, Eyegore stopped paying attention after the giant eye symbol. That's the most important.

So far, no sign of demons. That's a lie. There's more of that disgusting foul smelling eye-less demon goop everywhere. There's no sign of living demons, so far. And the ironically imprisoned grey dwarves haven't noticed Eyegore yet. Past their caravan is a sign written in dwarven he couldn't read from here even if he could read dwarven.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Eyegore can choose to investigate closer or report back. 

If he gets closer, roll Stealth for him.

If he reports back, the party members can attempt these following checks as well from his report, otherwise they will have a chance once they arrive.


*Spoiler: History or Nature: Lizard Person*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

This is a troglodyte, a reptilian humanoid known for its foul odor, cruelty and appetite.


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

This troglodyte is female, as evidenced by its shorter height and the lack of folded dorsal frills to display between its crests.


*Spoiler: DC 18 (DC 12 if trained in Religion)*
Show

Troglodytes are primitive tribals who practice demon worship, and bring together the subjects of their hunts in ritualistic feasts of gluttony to praise their demon lord, Laogzed. Some trogs are born with the ability to spit powerful stomach acid, which they consider the favor of their lord.



*Spoiler: History: Eye Robe*
Show

The DC is 5 higher for non-Underdark residents (Nilvae, Eyegore, Derendil, Ront)

*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

These robes belong to the Society of Brilliance. They are a relatively young faction in the Underdark, and they have not yet gained widespread fame. The Society of Brilliance is an elite group that accepts only the most intellectually prodigious or studious and learned into its inner circle, but maintains a small collection of applicants apprenticing or training to gain entry.

One interesting facet is that they accept anyone from an Underdark species who meets their standards.


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

The Society of Brilliance is dedicated not to any single nation or creed, but to the pursuit of science, magic and technology in the interest of benefiting _all_ peoples who live in the Underdark. Their members tend to be idealistic young intellectuals (or at least _comparatively_ idealistic, when compared to their neighbors and kin) who are disenfranchised by their own backwards or xenophobic cultures.

Rumors say they have many uncredited accomplishments, such as improving underground farming techniques and preventing disasters which other groups have taken the credit for.

If anyone reaches this tier of knowledge, they may give Faedryl Advantage by jogging her memory.

*Spoiler: Faedryl Only*
Show

The Society is not as young as some believe. Pains have been taken to scrub records, but the libraries of the drow - and of House Melad in particular - remember. This is not the first Society of Brilliance. For a long time they have tried to bring peace and prosperity, but have come to clash with demon worshipers, drow and other predictable opposition at all turns. Yet it was not these forces that halt their march of progress each time, according to records from House Melad's spies.

The surfacer secret society known as the Harpers, fearing the advancements the Society of Brilliance could bring wittingly or not to great evils such as the illithids or the drow, have regularly stepped in to cull the Society when it begins to gain too much traction and send it back into the forgotten realm of rumor. Each time, a few members must have gone into hiding, or someone they helped taken up the torch, because a new Society has always been born again from the ashes of the old.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  -

Eyegore's safety measurements are those of an immortal fey creature that can hide in magical darkness. Which is to say, he has no inhibitions. Transforming into a white moth with scintillating wings if any light would ever touch them, he goes nearer covered in his usual magical darkness. He wants to check on them, see where they are heading, and if they want the dead dwarves as food. There were so many eyes. Ripe for the taking. Granted, they were a bit blood shot, but Eyegore was aching for some fun toys to hide in the group's bags. Wouldn't it be HILARIOUS to create a caterpillar from a sleeping bag and a pair of eyes? Yes, it would.

The fact these lizardfolk were demoniacs did not deter the insane immortal moth.

*Spoiler*
Show

20 on the knowledge. (2d20)[*18*][*8*](26) +5 Stealth with advantage if the magical darkness imposes disadvantage.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Eye-Gore*

Here in the dark, the duergar - and any demons in the vicinity - could normally see quite well. But Eyegore's *advanced darkness* blends seamlessly into the natural, creeping along with him. Almost as soon as he comes past the corner, he sees them. Lurking in the side tunnel, a horde of demons is standing just out of view from the corners with only a token effort at hiding themselves. None of them have noticed Eyegore, or anything strange about the darker patch of darkness among the rest, all looking restless and bored, snarling at one another when they bump together pacing idly.

There are a trio of small, fat demons with flesh the color of a bruise, distended veins and discolored spots visible on their completely bald, obese bodies. Holding their chain leashes is a large, hulking reptilian demon that looks like a troglodyte pumped full of sterioids. Alongside it stand mobs of drooling, chubby sloth-demons with floppy goblin-like ears.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Like the others, these checks can be attempted by others after Eyegore reports back.


*Spoiler: Arcana or Religion: Small Fat Demons*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

These demons are showing signs of liver failure.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

Known as manes, these are the least of demons. Lesser even than quasits and dretches, they are weak, stupid and savage, barely able to function as minions.


*Spoiler: DC 20*
Show

It is debated whether manes are even true tanar'ri. They form naturally from soul larvae left to fester in the Abyss, rather than being shaped by greater demons. Since they are transformed by the energies of the Abyss itself, they may be closer to its natural denizens than the tanar'ri that rule it. All the same, they seldom survive long enough to become anything else before they are slain and returned to their base components, or shaped into something more useful by a greater demon.



*Spoiler: Arcana or Religion: Sloth Demons*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

Isn't sloth a sin? They're probably just sloth demons.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

Dretches, the stinking cannon fodder of the demon ranks. They are more intelligent than manes and capable of at least basic tactics, but with that intelligence comes the ability to feel self-preservation and fear, something their primitive lessers lack.

A dretch's stench can be debilitating in combat.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

Seeking power in numbers, dretches gather together in mobs to attack their enemies. Those engulfed in the mob will be pulled down and mercilessly torn to shreds. After enough of the mob has been slain, it disperses, the dretches often losing their nerve if not compelled by a more threatening superior.

Dretches that survive long enough to gain some amount of power and experience, known as an elder dretch, can summon other dretches from the Abyss.



*Spoiler: Arcana or Religion: Lizard Demon*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

This is a troglodyte.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

The hezrou is a large, powerful demon. They form the rank and file of many demonic armies, and often serve as masters to dretches. Both varieties of demon have a horrid odor, and the stench of many together can overwhelm even powerful mortal heroes.

The tactics of a hezrou are usually simple brute force.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

Hezrou are resistant to magic, in addition to their considerable physical durability. Their scales shrug off non-magical weapons with ease. 

These are the kinds of demons most often summoned by troglodytes, because of their similar appearance and smell making them appear as exemplars of the violent lizardfolk species.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 10/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | 
Concentration:  -

As the blighter sees the group of demons, one by another he realizes those are foot troops. Demon dogs, stinky demons, but their packmaster is what strikes fear in the heart of the small fey. The eyes are not worth even facing one of those. Quickly the moth-shaped dark faerie flutters away and back to the others, utilizing the moth's superior mobility to its advantage. A moth lands on Stool's head and transforms back, pushing the weak adorable shroom to the ground. Eyegore wanted a stool for his report, and damn it, he took one. The tiny myconid just looks up in awe.

*I have bad news, and even worse news. Ahead there is another massacred duergar group. Around those, there were three doggo demons, I think you call them manes. I call them bad boys and girls. They were the hounds for a large force of stinky dretches, but they are lead by a giant Hezrou demon. They are resistant to harm, both magical and with sticks.* He looks at Ront. *Or fists. But they are hurt. I don't know if or when demons heal, but if we wanted to get their eyes, now would be the time to strike.*

Nilvae looks at their underdark guide. Bort, do you know if we can avoid these? Maybe if we were better equipped, but as such? I don't think we should ambush even injured demons. She knew it was the sensible thing to do, but Bort was closer to her impulsive nature than he realized. But then, better to ambush an injured horde than run into a healthy one later at an inopportune time, right?

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Duergar Checkpoint*

"Hezrou are dangerous, but if it's injured we might have a chance. I am, however, without my more potent spells. A rest would recuperate some but if we lose the demons we're likely not going to get a better chance than we have now." Faedryl says. She does feel rather tapped out without the full force of her magic available, but if they were desperate for a demon...well, here was one, served up already injured. They wouldn't get much of a better opportunity than that any time soon.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan considers the information that Eye-gore relays, scratching at his ragged beard and chin. He's about to recommend going around the demons until the malicious fey mentions the grey dwarf prisoners. Then he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. It seemed like every place he went in this damn place someone was tugging at the one heart string he still gave a damn about. "We may not be at a hunerd percent, but neither are they, and if we can wrestle the big demon down it might know somethin about whatever is riling up these damn monsters. If we rest, they rest, and from the sounds of things our odds go to roughly zero if we try to take on their biggun when it's ready for us. I doubt the little stupid ones will know jack. Are they using light sources? If not, I can get the jump on the big one and do a lot of damage before they even know I'm there. If we can take down the leader, the little ones might bolt. Either way, I'm going to save those godsdamn slaver scum."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil doesn't like risking their lives to save evil dwarves, but no one deserved to be eaten by creatures from the outer realms, and it was unquestioningly a good act to remove these monsters from the world. Perhaps their decision to act selflessly may even sway the dueregar to a more enlightened path. I also say we attack. If we are lucky and all focus our fire we may eliminate the true threat before it gets a chance to fight back.

----------


## RandomWombat

Letting out a grumble when she hears about what they're facing, Topsy looks aside at Turvy with a glare of caution. But despite his nervous demeanor, the other deep gnome looks rather resolute. "This _is_ important," he says, as if answering a silent question from his twin. "If there is some kind of demonic incursion, it could be a threat everywhere nearby before long."

"Yeah. Well, I still don't see why _we_ have to fix it. But fine," she relents, waving a hand past her head and behind her as if tossing away the complaints she'd been gathering.

Of them all, Jimjar is not the least bit phased. *"Anybody want to place a wager on who slays the most demons?"* he asks.

*Spoiler: Insight*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

A small smile plays at Jimjar's lips as he plays with a coin, dancing it between his fingers. He's not just unconcerned, but pleased about something.


*Spoiler: DC 16*
Show

Before the smile came about, he was listening over his shoulder at Turvy convincing his sister. He seems to approve of Turvy's attitude towards the situation. And his smile only becomes more obvious after Borthan speaks his piece.




No one else voices any discontent or opinion on the matter, and so they continue walking forward. It takes some time before they arrive, giving a chance to discuss and prepare their strategy. As they quietly reach the edge of the crossroads, Borthan slightly ahead at the fore cloaked in the dark, the half-drow recognizes a face among the wounded duergar prisoners.

*Spoiler: Borthan*
Show

The female duergar cuffed in the furthest wagon has distinctive, dull red hair and goggles that he recognizes immediately. Her name is Ylsa, a merchant of various trades including exotic food, jewelry, armor, and of course slaves. Ylsa has a reputation for reliability and punctuality.

Borthan knows her as a frequent business associate of Mothrok Vrek.


*Spoiler: Stealth*
Show

Everyone other than Borthan roll Stealth as they approach the crossroads.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

*Duergar Checkpoint*

Faedryl was never particularly trained or adepted towards stealth. Her focus was on flashy displays of impressive magic after all, rather than creeping through the Underdark. Her sole real foray was sneaking into the library and reading the forbidden tome that...well, needless to say after that she didn't need much else in the way of sneaking around.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


From discord:

Faedryl Stealth: 5
Sarith Stealth: 14

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 


Noticing Jimjar's approval and excitement, Bort catalogued it as useful information without the proper context to be utilized.

Bort rests on his heels for a moment as he looks at Yisa. It had been years and years since he had seen her. Vrek had favored her as a trading partner due to her reliability, and bought many luxury goods and luxury slaves from her. She had once made him an offer to buy Borthan as they both watched him practice in the yard, chopping at dummies. Vrek had laughed and called her offer "Far too low for such a prize." They didn't think Borthan could hear them, but he had keen ears, even back at that young age. He'd felt an odd sense of pride when Vrek had called him a "prize". This was back when he was just Zuek, the Shadow, but it was integral to turning him into Borthan, Strong in dueregar. Breathing out through his nose, Borthan had to calm himself. He would free Yisa. He would. For Mothrok Vrek, and to prove that he was still a prize worth coveting. And now one they would never own again.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil's new body was not designed for stealth, so he did his best and prayed to the Seldarine that he would go unnoticed.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

No stealth needed for Bort. Derendil rolls a flat luck roll of (1d20)[*7*].

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool hums along the trail, hoping to catch the tune of Psilofyr with it. In his head, modulating his pitches was a surefire way to find the rhythm of the wilds again. While in reality he was just squealing a high pitched noise into Borthan made him stop the song. Not that the underdark was particularly silent, like many wild areas it was filled with a bit of noise. However echo through moist caverns and the occasional skitter of spiders or insects was nothing compared to it.

*Spoiler*
Show

Stool stealth of 3








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech
Concentration:  -

As the most cautious of them, Nilvae was like night itself. She kept quiet, which was a surprise, but after the days that had gone by, she needed time to think. She turned to Mr Spide which was also deadly silent, making Nilvae unsure if Puck's blessing of beast speech was still there. But she dared not to interfere. 

Meanwhile Eyegore was silently blabbering on: *How do I want the eyes. Are the eyes banished if the demon is slain? Gotta settle for dwarf eyes. Assume they're tough, might try to chew them.* A mental command later, Eyegore was also hushed, at least trying to be silent.

*Spoiler*
Show

Stealth Nilvae 25
Eyegore 12
Mr Spide 17+mods

----------


## RandomWombat

Drawing nearer, the group begins to spread out into the cavern, remaining low and quiet. Those with less expertise remain further back, awaiting the signal to attack. Ront and Jimjar fall in closely behind Borthan, Jimjar gently placing a hand on the invisible man's back to keep track of where he is. Behind them, Spide crawls low and slow, many legs moving in deadly silent precision. Moving past them, Buppido moves to the very corner of the wall, fingers twitching eagerly and teeth bared in a manic grin.

The gnome twins move along the north wall of the crossroads, maintaining a healthy distance from the demonic mob.

Shuushar remains towards the rear, still awkwardly carrying his pike in both hands. It clatters around too much against the stone as he walks to risk drawing closer.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech
Concentration:  -

As Eyegore moves in and veils the group in a shroud of darkness, Nilvae enchants her first stone and chucks it at the Dretch Mob.

*Spoiler*
Show

19 to hit, 5 damage

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

With his first shot missing despite their surprise Sarith is quietly burning with frustration at failing to strike such a large target. He requires no instruction to continue his assault against it, carefully aiming his large crossbow a second time and letting the heavy twang of the string carry another projectile of death in the demon's direction, before moving back into the darkness to take cover once more.



*Spoiler*
Show


Second verse, same as the first. Shoot the Hezrou.
*Action:* Attack [roll]1d20+8[/roll] [roll]1d20+8[/roll] Damage  [roll]1d10+4[/roll]+ [roll]1d6[/roll]
*Move:* Back in to the darkness
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action Hide  [roll]1d20+6[/roll]


* post roll count doesn't match database

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Quiet and invisible, Borthan moves twenty feet forward before unleashing a flurry of thrown weapons at the closest dretch mob, assailing them with both hand axes and a dagger before retreating to his previous position.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Move 20 feet closer to the dretch mob. Throw a hand axe- (1d20+5)[*14*] or (1d20+5)[*25*] to hit, whichever is better. (1d6+3)[*9*] damage. Throw a hand axe- (1d20+5)[*17*] or (1d20+5)[*7*] to hit, whichever is better. (1d6+3)[*8*] damage. Throw a dagger- (1d20+5)[*23*] or (1d20+5)[*24*] to hit, whichever is better. (1d4+3)[*6*]. Add (1d8)[*1*] if the dagger hits. (1d6)[*3*] if a hand axe crits, [roll]1d4[/roll plus (1d8)[*6*] if the dagger crits. Then move 20 ft back to his origional position.

----------


## RandomWombat

The reverse-ambush is sprung. Stepping around the corner, under the veil of Eyegore's supernatural darkness, they hurl projectiles at the (small) horde of demons lying in wait. Nilvae peers around the corner and hurls the first stone, striking one of the drooling sloth demons in the head and knocking it out of its stupor. While she drops back into the darkness, Borthan hurls a flurry of blades into the crowd, axes hacking through demonic limbs and knife blade sticking into the head of one of the lesser demons.

Jimjar is barely there for a moment, popping off a bolt that slices through a few more of the dretches, leaving behind a few scattered individuals instead of the dense mob that had menaced before. Buppido remains at the very edge of the darkness, white eyes peering out and hidden blade ready to strike.

Topsy dashes out to the first slave wagon, rattling on the bars with her dagger to wake up the badly wounded duergar inside. He blinks at her, while the troglodyte inside sits up attentively. "I'll let you out of here, but you better give us a hand with these freaks. Deal?" she offers to the dwarf.

"Yes," the dwarf grunts through teeth gritted not from anger, but from pain. He is bleeding badly from a wound in his side, and his hands are tied together.

*"I am a magic usser. I can alsso be of help,"* the troglodyte hisses in accented Undercommon. Topsy looks at her warily, then turns her attention to the lock on their wagon's cage. Behind her, Turvy prepares a ray of frost to hurl once the demons get near.

Sarith lines up his shot carefully, and squeezes off a shot that sails over the manes' heads straight at the hezrou. But the demon reacts with surprising speed for its size, raising its thick, powerful arm to deflect the shot off of its spiny scales. The demon lets go of the manes' leashes and roars in Abyssal, commanding its minions to charge.

Stepping out into the open, Ront takes a ready stance, waiting for the demons to approach. Mr. Spide crawls just behind him, in a low stance. The hezrou demon charges forward, nearly trampling its own manes as it does. Turvy panics at the sight and fires his ray wide, missing the demon. When it draws close, Buppido delivers a brutal stab to its gut - but the sleeve blade does not even pierce halfway down its length. Sickly black ichor leaks down from the wound, and a repulsive stink radiates off of the creature.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae casts Magic Stone, and stones Dretch Mob A for *5* damage.
Borthan makes three thrown attacks at Dretch Mob A, dealing a *12* damage crit, *8* damage, and *7* damage.
Sarith shoots at the Hezrou, but misses. Then he falls back and Hides.
Buppido uses a Cunning Action to Hide, and Readies an attack should an enemy move within range.
Jimjar shoots Dretch Mob A for a *15* damage sneak attack, then uses Cunning Action to dash back into cover. Dretch Mob A is 'slain', leaving behind a few individual Dretches.
Ront uses the Dodge action.
Mr. Spide uses the Dodge action.
Topsy Dashes to the slave wagon.
Turvy Readies a Ray of Frost.

Hezrou Dashes forward. Turvy's attack is triggered, but misses. Buppido's attack is triggered, dealing *6* sneak attack damage after resistance.

Nilvae, Faedryl, Eyegor and Borthan are up! Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou (Borthan currently) must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
*Eyegor - 18*
*Borthan - 16*

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15
*Stool - 13*

Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

With Faedryl unable to properly sneak forwards to get an adequate spellcasting position, she's caught slow and behind. It didn't help that the magical darkness was blocking her sight from being able to summon her flames or clang her throat. Instead she moves forward into the darkness, muttering quietly as she pulls the sigils together. What would normally gleam brightly as obscured by the dark, and so her spellcasting is, momentarily, hidden. She pulls together the runes for _Roar. Flight. Lizard._ and as she joins them together with her name an earsplitting roar, that of a purple dragon, echoes out throughout the cavern, originating from the darkness. It was a fine imitation of the roars she'd heard before, having seen one kept in captivity as a slave and pet. Her allies should - she hopes - have the mental wherewithal to recognise the deception without being told, but concealed from the demon's sight, they would have no idea what was approaching, and dretches could be immensely cowardly. If they thought a deep drake stood against them, alongside a small force, they might abandon the hezrou entirely. That was the hope, anyway. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* As on map.
*Action:* Minor Illusion: Dragon roar from inside the darkness. Creatures can use their action for Int (Investigation) vs. DC14 to recognise it as an illusion.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan found himself overwhelmed by the stench of this demon, nearly vomiting as his stomach doubled with cramps of revulsion. Still, while he was nearly floored with disgust, he was still invisible to the monster, which made attacking easier. All told this balanced out as he began laying into the toady demon with his new battle axes.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Advantage from invisible negates disadvantage from poisoned. Attack 1- (1d20+5)[*16*] to hit and (1d8+3)[*6*] damage. Attack 2- (1d20+5)[*6*] to hit and (1d8+3)[*7*] damage.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: - 

Stool uses his little stubby legs to get into melee. Along the side he absorbs suddenly visible spores from the air, growing in size, his mass almost doubling. When in melee he is a chubby almost comical myconid with a pot lid, a wooden bucket on his head and a ladle in hand.








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech
Concentration:  Faerie Fire

Nilvae invokes a magical light enveloping everyone that is not fast enough. If you look hard enough you see tiniest little moths clinging to the enemy. Afterwards Eyegore repositions to cover the frontline once again.

*Spoiler*
Show

Tried an askew cube this time if allowed. If not, make sure Ylsa and three of her henchpeople are targetted.

----------


## RandomWombat

Turning her magic towards the grey dwarves, Nilvae casts a spell. Some of them notice and duck down below the benches of the slave wagons, avoiding the flash of light and the tracking butterflies, but one of them is caught off guard and a dim glow surrounds the hooded dwarf woman.

Unexpectedly, an invisible quasit is unveiled upon the roof of one of the wagons, squatting and watching the scene play out. When the sparkling butterflies alight upon the tiny demon's arms and body, he(?) desperately attempts to swat them away and shake them off, but to no avail, only drawing more attention with the lights trailing along the flailing limbs.

Stool waddles forward into the darkness, swelling with redundant fungal flesh.


Fighting against nausea, Borthan steps forward and takes two swings at the hulking demon with his axes. One glances off of its tough hide, and the other it avoids as it takes one step back from the invisible attacker, peering around for the source of the blades. Beside him, Nilvae's spider rushes up and sinks its fangs into the demon's leg. More sickly ichor bleeds out as it shakes the spider off, but the animal's venom does not have any effect.

Three dretch survivors from the broken mob creep forward, tentatively, waiting behind their more powerful master for the roaring 'creature' to reveal itself.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae casts Faerie Fire, catching a Soulblade and a hidden Quasit in the flash and marking them.
Faedryl casts Minor Illusion to create a roaring sound from within the darkness.
Eyegore moves.
Borthan attacks the Hezrou twice, but both miss (the first just barely).
Mr. Spide bites the Hezrou for *3* damage after Resistance.

The Dretches are unable to tell what the roaring is and approach only hesitantly, wasting their actions trying to identify it.

Stool takes his turn now, using a Symbiotic Entity.

Derendil is now up!

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16*

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil stomps forward. Taking a moment to utter an accuracy cantrip, he sends out an icy ray at the hezrou.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Bonus action true strike. Move forward. Ray of frost with advantage. (1d20+4)[*5*] or (1d20+4)[*15*] to hit, and (1d8)[*1*] frost damage. (1d8)[*3*] in case of crit.

----------


## RandomWombat

A second ray of cold streaks through the darkness, fizzling against the demon's hide, beneath its notice. Its attention is drawn elsewhere, turning to face Ront. The orc pushes through the stench of the monster and swings his demon skull gauntlet, his attack premature and flailing through the air in front of the Hezrou. The demon sneers and rumbling, mocking laughter echoes from its gut until Ront continues through and smashes it upside the jaw with the edge of his shield increasing the reach of his second swing just enough.

Staggered only slightly by the blow, the hezrou glares down at Ront, who gulps, reconsidering the wisdom of this fight. The other demons are rapidly getting closer, preparing to crash down on them in a wave of fetid claws and slavering mouths.


The illuminated quasit hops off of the wagon and begins flying away, fleeing past the other demons as the mobs of dretch surge forward - marching is too organized a term for the way they jostle and crawl over one another. Any fear of the roaring that might have taken hold over the singular dretches is lost in the bravado of their herd mentality.

Eyes flicking up at it as she deftly picks the lock and opens up the first slave wagon, Topsy moves on to the next. "Brother. Can you shoot down the fleeing little freak before it brings reinforcements?"

"I- yes! I still have magic missiles prepared," Turvy answers.

"Good. Nobody worry about the demonling, focus on the big guy!" she calls out.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil casts Ray of Frost, missing the Hezrou.
Ront attacks twice, missing badly and then hitting with his offhand for *3* after reduction.

Quasit Dashes.
Dretch Mobs Dash.
Topsy picks the lock on the first slave wagon. The Footgar and Troglodyte will enter initiative on the next round. She uses a bonus action to give Borthan Help on his next attack.

Manes Dash.

Sarith is up!

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19 (Round 2)
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16*

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6 (Round 2)
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

With his first shot missing despite their surprise Sarith is quietly burning with frustration at failing to strike such a large target. He requires no instruction to continue his assault against it, carefully aiming his large crossbow a second time and letting the heavy twang of the string carry another projectile of death in the demon's direction, before moving back into the darkness to take cover once more.



*Spoiler*
Show


Second verse, same as the first. Shoot the Hezrou.
*Action:* Attack (1d20+8)[*10*] (1d20+8)[*24*] Damage  (1d10+4)[*9*]+ (1d6)[*5*]
*Move:* Back in to the darkness
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action Hide  (1d20+6)[*19*]

----------


## RandomWombat

Knowing now the strength of the demon's hide, Sarith takes careful aim over Borthan's shoulder, at one of the already open wounds in the demon's bare chest. With a soft clunk the hand crossbow fires, the bolt sinking directly into its desired target. With a growl of fury, the demon slaps the bolt away, tearing it out of the wound. 

Buppido takes the chance to lunge in for a stab, but his blade skitters off of the demon's arm spines. Instead, he grins and grabs hold of the edge of the wound Sarith reopened, black blood drooling out over his hand as he braces his foot against the hezrou's thigh and pulls with all his weight. Flesh tears and the demon kicks Buppido away, turning in his direction. From just behind Buppido, Jimjar levels his hand crossbow, glowing with Shuushar's blessing, and fires a bolt that scrapes along the side of the demon's face.

"Laven Byon Seek!" from behind them in the dark, Turvy's incantation summons a trio of force missiles that arc across the cavern at great speeds, pelting the quasit and sending it to the stone floor.


Riddled with wounds from this and the battle before, the Hezrou still stands a head taller than the largest of them when slumped forward and breathing heavily. It grabs Buppido in a claw, digging into his side, and lunges forward to bite his face. The derro is once again brought to death's door as the demon tosses him aside and swings a wild backhand at Borthan, the ranger able to duck out of the way in time before its huge arm clobbers him.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith lands a sneak attack on the Hezrou for *7* damage after reduction, then Hides in the dark.
Buppido is Poisoned. He misses a stab, then lands an unarmed sneak attack for *4* damage after reduction on the Hezrou.
Shuushar casts Guidance on Jimjar.
Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing *3* damage 3 times to the fleeing Quasit. He KOs the tiny demon and deals 1 failed death save.
Jimjar sneak attacks Hezrou, dealing *5* damage after resistance thanks to Shuushar's Guidance.

Hezrou attacks Buppido twice for *29* damage total, and a KO, then misses Borthan with its third attack.

Nilvae, Faedryl, Eyegore and Borthan are up on Round 2.

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16*

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 26/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan, holding his breath and choking down his rising vomit, recovers his stance and sets about using his invisibility to full advantage, swinging both battle axes at the gaping wound Buppido opened.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*6*] or (1d20+5)[*23*], whichever is better. (1d8+3)[*5*] slashing damage. Bonus attack- (1d20+5)[*23*] or (1d20+5)[*14*], whichever is better. (1d8+3)[*11*] slashing damage. (1d8)[*8*] in case of a crit.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

The dragon's roar didn't seem to have scared any of them away, but if it had slowed their advance then it had done the job. Adding to the continuous roaring she gestures in the dark, and her throat clangs with power as she unleashes a wave of necrotic power against the lead demon. When Buppido falls she reaches out with her mind and pulls his body back towards the darkness. It might not save him, but it would hopefully keep any of the demons from trying to finish him off.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action:* Toll the Dead on the Hezrou. (Adv)(2d20)[*13*][*14*](27)+Mods vs. DC14 wis save or (1d12)[*11*] Necrotic damage.
*Bonus Action:* Telekinetic 'Push' Buppido into the darkness 5' closer to her. As he's unconscious, he automatically fails his save, and is pushed to safety.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: Entangle (1/10 rds) 

Seeing the large dwarven strike force, Stool decides to prevent them from advancing, allowing their friends to deal with the demons first. Roots and hyphae extend to grab and reach the enemy, in an attempt of restraining them.

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting Entangle








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech | Magic Stone (2/3 remaining)
Concentration:  Faerie Fire (2/10 rds) 

Nilvae moves south as she hears the fight break out. She worries about Borthan. As she sees the huge demon, she decides to throw rocks at it. Like any sane person would. She gauges her result versus the crossbow bolts, encouraging the others to use her stones, should the be more effective. It was fey magic after all.

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting Magic Stone and throwing it. (1d20+6)[*9*] (1d6+3)[*7*]

----------


## RandomWombat

Regaining control of his body, Borthan makes the best use of his invisibility, confounding the hezrou with slashes from each side as it twists around, trying to find the source. Its snarling face twitches as it resists Faedryl's magic, and she quickly slides Buppido into the safer cover of darkness.

Another sparkling stone sails past the hezrou, outside of its notice. The creature is flagging now, visibly exhausted, and the demons behind it look hesitant. It rebuffs an attempt by Spide to bite it with a swipe of its claw; then, dragging a clawed foot along the stone floor with a hideous screech, the hezrou barks orders back at the dretches.

*Spoiler: Abyssal*
Show

*"Bleed them! Cut them! Draw blood before you die or you will be fed to the Eater of Souls when your pathetic larvae squirm back to the Abyss!"*

*Spoiler: Religion*
Show

Anyone who passed the DC 18 Troglodyte check passes this check automatically.

*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

The Eater of Souls is another name for Laogzed, a demon lord of lesser repute. The lord's lack of infamy is not for lack of power, but for lack of ambition. A lord of Sloth and Gluttony, Laugzed dwells in the Rotting Plains, feeding on planar refuse and growing fat upon the slag other lords consider themselves above. All he asks of his followers is to gorge themselves in his name, caring not for the source of their feasting.




Released from the slave wagon, the freed duergar shambles awkwardly in his chained hands and feet, pulling open a compartment on the side of the wagon. From within he pulls a heavy crossbow, awkwardly squatting to steady it on his knees as he cannot aim it the proper way in his restraints. He fires the pre-readied bolt out of the darkness at one of the crowds of dretches, but the recoil causes him to fumble and fire the bolt into the ground, where it clatters uselessly.

Two of the 'orphaned' dretches merge temporarily into one of the other mobs, loping towards Ront, and the third creeps towards the darkness, still wary of the sound and of the invisible foe. Soon with a disgusting squelching noise, the two dretches release a cloud of noxious green gas into the air that, while not matching the sheer disgust of the hezrou's smell, is tinged with the unmistakable sting of poison. The other takes some swipes at Ront's legs, attempting to look like it's doing something.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan slashes the Hezrou twice for *2* and *5* damage.
Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, but the Hezrou resists. Buppido is 'shoved' to safety.
Nilvae misses Hezrou with a magic stone.
Eyegore will be defaulted to Dodge action with nothing else to do.

Mr. Spide attempts to bite Hezrou, but misses.
Footgar A retrieves a heavy crossbow and attempts to shoot Dretch Mob B at disadvantage, but misses.

Dretch A attacks Ront twice, missing both quite badly.
Dretch B and C use Fetid Cloud.

Derendil is up!

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.
Anyone starting their turn within the dark green circles around Dretches B and C must make a DC 11 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A creature poisoned by the dretch's fetid cloud can only take one action or bonus action on its turn, and cannot take reactions.
The stench layers overlap, requiring saves against each of them for those in multiple.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16* - Hezrou Stench Immune

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil advances, squaring up with a Dretch outside of the aura of stink rising off the hezrou. He lashes out with a claw, attempting to strike down the abyssal filth.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*10*] to hit and (1d6+3)[*6*] damage. Will cast Shield if a blow is going to strike Derendil, which will also heal his ward for 2 hp.

----------


## RandomWombat

Stepping forward, Derendil slashes with his claw, the pitiful dretch ducking and covering its face with its arms. The swipe only barely misses demonic flesh. Fungal growths erupt from the ground beneath the other mobs of dretches as the advance, ensnaring several of them who are left behind as the horde advances.

Ront gags on the noxious fumes spraying out of the dretch in front of him, and in an effort to make it stop he plants his skull-guarded fist directly into its face, which ripples at the impact, sending flecks of drool and blood spattering from its broken lip across the cave floor.

Leaving behind any caught in the vines, many tearing their way free with tooth and claw, the dretch horde engulfs the fighting force, numerous tiny claws ripping and tearing at their legs as a hideous smell forces them to fight back nausea. Overwhelmed in a crowd of creatures their own size beating them down from all angles, Stool and Topsy have the worse of it. Among them are the manes, crawling forward on their stubby legs, swollen bodies jiggling disgustingly. One of them tries to move past the empty space where Borthan should be, receiving an axe to the back of the skull that drops it before it even knows what hits it.

Grabbing her dagger, Topsy swings it around at the crowding demons, who grab at her arm and restrain it before she can cut any of them down. Fighting like a cornered rat, she starts swinging, socking a few of them in the jaws and grabbing one by the face to dig her thumb into its disgusting sunken eye.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil attacks Dretch, but misses (barely).
Stool's mistaken Entangle is directed at the demons instead, catching Dretch B, Mane B and both Dretch Mobs. Dretch Mob C's mass is only partially entangled, producing a few entangled Dretches and halving its remaining hit points.
Ront fails his save against the foul vapors, but hits Dretch B for *11* damage.

Quasit fails a Death Save,
Dretch Mob B breaks free of Entangle and engulfs Ront, Mr. Spide, and Borthan. Each of them risks *6* slashing damage, with a DC 11 Dex save for half. Ront and Spide both pass their saves, taking only *3*.
Dretch Mob C engulfs Topsy and Stool. Each of them risks *7* slashing damage, DC 11 Dex for half. Topsy passes hers' and takes only *3*.

Topsy passes her save vs Dretch stink. She misses the mob with a dagger, then lands a punch for *6* Sneak Attack damage.

Mane A misses two claw attacks against Mr. Spide.
Mane B breaks Entangle and moves up, but cannot attack.
Mane C provokes an attack from Borthan as it moves past him. I will assume he takes it, dealing *8* damage and killing it before it reaches Derendil.

Sarith is up!

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.
Anyone starting their turn within a Dretch Mob or the dark green circles around Dretches B and C must make a DC 11 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A creature poisoned by the dretch's fetid cloud can only take one action or bonus action on its turn, and cannot take reactions.
The stench layers overlap, requiring saves against each of them for those in multiple.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16* - Hezrou Stench Immune

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Though he'd landed a solid blow on the hezrou it didn't seem to be doing much, and the rest of the demons were now swarming them. He retargets - focusing on the dretch now looming perilously close to where Buppido had vanished into the darkness. Taking careful aim he looses another thick bolt.



*Spoiler*
Show


Third verse, rhymes with dearth (of new tactics). Shoot the Dretch directly south of Buppido.
*Action:* Attack (1d20+8)[*13*](1d20+8)[*28*] *Damage*: (1d10+4)[*9*]+(1d6)[*6*] Plus *Crit damage*=9 from discord, total damage *24* piercing.
*Move:* None.
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action Hide (1d20+6)[*15*]

----------


## RandomWombat

A massive bolt flies out of the darkness, tearing one of the dretches in half. Its remains quickly begin decomposing, degenerating into a toxic sludge, which does little for their smell. But the poisonous gas fizzles and runs out with its death.

Hobbling out of and away from the cage wagon, the troglodyte hides in the darkness. Strangely, those nearby do not detect the usual stink of their kind. The hezrou shivers as if shrugging off the effects of some kind of magic.

"Gelutos!" stepping forward towards the hordes of dretch, Turvy casts a new spell, sending a sweeping, crawling hand of cold that wraps around them and freezes their flesh, weaving just past Stool and Ront. One of the manes collapses, frozen solid, and shatters into pieces on the floor.

Accepting one of Nilvae's stones, Jimjar tosses it up and down in his hand. *"Bet I can hit 'im with both right on the same spot,"* he boasts, taking a quick shot with his hand crossbow and then hurling the stone at the hezrou's head. The bolt sticks into its side and then Jimjar's rock hits the bolt from behind, jamming it deeper in. Jimjar giggles gleefully and pumps his fist in the air as the hezrou grunts, too tired now to even roar.

The burned out demon's eyes gleam with malevolence as it throws itself wildly at the space Borthan's attacks are coming from, furiously attempting to tear down the invisible opponent before it goes down. Its claws swing past him, narrowly, first one and then the other. But the creature opens its gaping maw and lunges forward with its entire body, slamming into Borthan and biting down onto his torso.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith critically hits Dretch C, killing it in one shot.

Caged Troglodyte casts something on Hezrou, but it passes its save.
Shuushar drags Buppido back and casts Spare the Dying to stabilize him.
Turvy casts Frost Fingers, dealing *2* damage after Resistance to Mane B, killing it. The Mobs take double damage from AoE and take *5*, canceling their Resistance.
Jimjar sneak attacks the Hezrou for *7* damage after Resistance, then uses one of Nilvae's stones offhand for *5* more damage, the magic damage bypassing its Resistance.

Hezrou bites Borthan for *10* damage, but misses him with both claws.

Nilvae, Faedryl, Eyegore and Borthan are up!

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.
Anyone starting their turn within a Dretch Mob or the dark green circles around Dretches B and C must make a DC 11 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A creature poisoned by the dretch's fetid cloud can only take one action or bonus action on its turn, and cannot take reactions.
The stench layers overlap, requiring saves against each of them for those in multiple.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16* - Hezrou Stench Immune

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: Entangle (2/10 rds); Shillelagh (1/10 rds) 

Smelling the rich demonic flavor, Stool is immediately reminded of food. Even his bucket armor wasn't completely clean, so he just pushes through. He expunges a cloud of spores that collect around his ladle to create a titanic, moist club, that he swings.

*Spoiler*
Show

Save of 20 vs. fetid cloud, 16 to hit and 9 magic blunt damage vs Dretch Mob in the west whose designation I cannot read anymore.








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech | Magic Stone (2/3 remaining)
Concentration:  Faerie Fire (2/10 rds) 

Seeing the success of her stones, Nilvae throws another one of her and enchants a new bunch of them for the others. Well, this ain't the magic of friendship, but the magic of flying evil rocks! Nilvae cackles as she throws another one.

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting Magic Stone and throwing it. 15 to hit, 9 damage. 3 to pick and throw for other characters.



[/QUOTE]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 13/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan bit his lip as the demon crunched down on his torso, but he didn't cry out and reveal himself. He also didn't succumb to the stink of the demons around him- compared to the hezrou, it smelled like flowers. Instead he turned his axes on the large demon, trying to cut down it's legs like trees.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rolling to hit on two attacks with advantage- (1d20+5)[*7*] or (1d20+5)[*13*] to hit, (1d20+5)[*13*] or (1d20+5)[*14*] to hit, for (1d8+3)[*10*] damage and (1d8+3)[*5*] damage, with (1d8)[*5*] in case of a crit. If the demon dies Borthan will move out of the dretch mob.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

 The demons were coming fast and hard, and they were being boxed in. She'd like to start a fire, but the abyssal monsters were likely not particularly scared of it, and if it interfered with Borthan's supernatural invisibility then it might harm them more than help. Instead, with her limited options available she clangs her throat once more, trying to wear down the swarms. If they wanted the hezrou alive she'd best leave others to finish it off - her magic wasn't so precise. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None
*Action:* Toll the Dead Dretch G. [roll]1d20[/roll]+Mods vs. DC14 for [roll]1d8[/roll] Necrotic.
*Bonus Action:* TK push Dretch E 5' Southwest. [roll]1d20[/roll]+mods vs. DC14 strength save.


* post roll count doesn't match database

----------


## RandomWombat

The latest magical stone sails past the hezrou as it tangles with Borthan in close range, unwilling to let go and risk losing track of him. He swings his axes at the creature in close quarters, but can't build up the force to punch through its hard flesh. Mr. Spide tries to crawl up its side to bite at its face, but the demon shakes it off.

Faedryl tries to strike down some of the dretches with a necromantic toll, but her tolling proves unheard in the chaos. Instead she turns and shoves a dretch out of the other mob, breaking up the last of them and disturbing their mob frenzy. The freed grey dwarf struggles to crank the crossbow and fires another shot that skitters along the ground at the feet of one of the remaining demonic peons.

The remnants continue to scratch at Topsy, but they have lost their manic zeal, and she manages to duck and weave around their strikes until one lands a lucky hit and rakes a claw along her side. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae casts Magic Stone again, and throws at the Hezrou, but misses.
Faedryl casts Toll the Dead on Dretch Mob B, but they pass their save.
Faedryl shoves a Dretch out of Mob C, dealing *5* damage as a Dretch is shoved out, which disintegrates it into individual Dretches. (I'll rule knocking Dretches out of the mob as dealing 'damage' to it, same as with the Entangle locking it partially down)
Borthan misses Hezrou twice.
Mr. Spide misses the Hezrou.
Footgar reloads and shoots at Dretch I, but misses.

Dretch A claws Ront for *3* damage.
Dretch B fails to break free.
Dretch D fails to break free.
Dretch E breaks free of the Entangle.
Dretch F fails to break free.
Dretch G, H and I attack Topsy. One hit for *7* damage.

Derendil and Stool are up!

Stool clobbers Dretch I after the mob collapses, dealing *9* damage.

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.
Anyone starting their turn within a Dretch Mob or the dark green circles around Dretches B and C must make a DC 11 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A creature poisoned by the dretch's fetid cloud can only take one action or bonus action on its turn, and cannot take reactions.
The stench layers overlap, requiring saves against each of them for those in multiple.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16* - Hezrou Stench Immune

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (10 rounds)

Seeing the hezrou bite down on their invisible ally, Derendil releases a roar of challenge and moves adjacent to the demon. He swells with rage as he rakes it with a claw, trying to bring it down and ignoring the poisonous stink coming off of it.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rage. Move adjacent to Bort (Can't see Derendil under the dead dretch). Attack- (1d20+5)[*25*] to hit or (1d20+5)[*12*] to hit with reckless attack. (1d6+5)[*11*] damage. 2 crit damage rolled in the discord, so total of 13 damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

The noble savage's claw drives deep into the hezrou's flesh, finding one of the open wounds and tearing at its insides. The inside does not feel entirely like a creature, like an organism; it feels more like a massive lump of meat and muscle. For all the demon's apparent lack of true internal anatomy or vitals, the collective damage to its form is mounting, leaving it gasping and clinging to this realm by a thread.

Seeing the mighty demon ready to topple has put doubt into the remaining dretches, those not already lost in the heat of battle looking ready to flee, but those still in the mob have not lost their fighting spirit and the ones surrounded by enemies show feral expressions like cornered rats. The last of the manes shows no such fear or self-preservation, lashing out at Derendil when he draws near. 

While the dretch Stool struck over the head is still reeling from the blow, Topsy lunges forward and drives her dagger through its throat. "Good job, mushroom. Keep setting them up and I'll knock them down."

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil critically hits Hezrou for *6* damage, after Resistance.

Dretch Mob risks *4* slashing damage to Ront, Spide and Borthan, with DC 11 Dex save to halve the damage. Ront fails, but Spide avoids the full damage.

Topsy sneak attacks Dretch I for *13* damage, slaying it. She uses Bonus action Help at a range to give Stool Advantage on his next attack.

Mane attacks Derendil, but misses with both claw and bite.

Sarith is up!

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.
Anyone starting their turn within a Dretch Mob or the dark green circles around Dretches B and C must make a DC 11 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A creature poisoned by the dretch's fetid cloud can only take one action or bonus action on its turn, and cannot take reactions.
The stench layers overlap, requiring saves against each of them for those in multiple.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16* - Hezrou Stench Immune

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

There's a smug sense of self satisfaction as his crossbow bolt ends the dretch's life in a single shot, but if he wants to stop them from pushing through he can't stop. He loads another bolt and looses it again. The more he could whittle their numbers down the better. 



*Spoiler*
Show


I really should've clarified if I can heavy crossbow non-lethally. If so, shoot the hezrou. If not, shoot Dretch H south of Topsy.

*Action:* Attack (1d20+8)[*27*](1d20+8)[*24*] Damage: (1d10+4)[*12*]+(1d6)[*5*]
*Move:* None.
*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action Hide (1d20+6)[*19*]

----------


## RandomWombat

Rather than kill the demon leader, whose information may be more valuable, Sarith turns to one of the dretches and skewers it through the chest with a large crossbow bolt. This time his shot doesn't shred the demon in half, but it's barely hanging on. A shudder of magic attempts to sever its last threads of life, but it resists just enough to stay standing. "Frigus!" Turvy's voice calls from in the darkness nearby, and a bolt of blue energy strikes the feeble demon, finishing the job. Its frozen body falls over and one of its arms shatters into pieces.

Taking one of Nilvae's magic stones in hand, Shuushar feels the magic inside. It _wants_ to go where he aims it. Winding up as if he were tossing a shotput, he hurls the stone, which arcs through the air and clonks the hezrou on the forehead with a measured impact. The already wounded and exhausted demon falls backwards, landing with a heavy thud.

Plucking another stone, Jimjar grins and fires a bolt into the crowd of demons hounding Borthan and the others at the frontline. His shot pierces several, as he winds up a showy throw and hurls the stone, plinking off of two of their skulls and knocking them to the ground.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Heavy Crossbow's standard ammunition is probably not the most non-lethal option, so I think it makes sense to rule no. In which case Sarith hits Dretch H with a *17* damage Sneak Attack.
Troglodyte casts a spell on Dretch H, but it resists.
Shuushar uses one of Nilvae's stones to deal *9* non-lethal to the Hezrou, KOing it.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost, dealing *3* damage after Resistance and striking down Dretch H.
Jimjar sneak attacks Dretch Mob for *18* damage, then uses a Magic Stone offhand for *5* more damage.

Hezrou is unconscious. So Nilvae, Eyegore, Faedryl, and Borthan are up!

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.
Anyone starting their turn within a Dretch Mob or the dark green circles around Dretches B and C must make a DC 11 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A creature poisoned by the dretch's fetid cloud can only take one action or bonus action on its turn, and cannot take reactions.
The stench layers overlap, requiring saves against each of them for those in multiple.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Hezrou - n20 (+3)

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16* - Hezrou Stench Immune

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*

Quasit - 12
Dretch Mobs - 11

Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Freed from the grip of the now unconscious demon, Borthan had to use all of his will power not to bury both his axes in the brain of the beast and put it down. Instead, he turned his fury upon the mob of dretches that haphazardly clawed at his invisible body, swinging both axes in an attempt to hew limbs and sever heads.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

2 attacks with advantage. (1d20+5)[*13*] or (1d20+5)[*7*] to hit, for (1d8+3)[*10*] damage. (1d20+5)[*24*] or (1d20+5)[*17*] to hit, for (1d8+3)[*10*] damage. Here's (1d8)[*6*] in case of a crit. After that Bort will move out of the middle of the dretch mob in an attempt to stop taking so much fuhshugana damage.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

It seemed they were never-ending, but at least the leader was now down. Now they just needed to mop up the weaker ones before they went out of control. Hopefully they broke soon, but demons had the nasty habit of being too stupid to know when discretion was the better part of not dying. Faedryl idly wonders, as she once again looks to wrap necrotic energy around one of her foes with her clanging throat, if it's their knowledge of being reborn that gives them such recklessness. She doesn't want to consider her own 'afterlife', just yet. Her eventual destination was still far from well known, and she's got so much left to accomplish here.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None
*Action:* Toll the Dead Dretch G. (1d20)[*16*]+Mods vs. DC14 for (1d8)[*5*] Necrotic.
*Bonus Action:* TK push Dretch E 5' Southwest. (1d20)[*17*]+mods vs. DC14 strength save.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 7/10
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech | Magic Stone (2/3 remaining)
Concentration:  Faerie Fire (2/10 rds) 

Eyegore pops out of his darkness spell, leaving the area slowly getting "normal dark" and lunges forward to pop some sweet demon eyes. He lands on the first dretch corpse and plucks at the second dretch. *FRESH EYESSS!!* he hisses.

Meanwhile Nilvae hits a weak spot for not that more damage on the same dretch. The stone transforms into an egg mid-flight and hits the demon like the supernatural disrespectfulness they are. She moves up to Bort as she does. Are you alright, sweetie? she says, ignorant to the emotional confusion she might summon.

*Spoiler*
Show

Eyegore plucks eyes for 18 to hit 4 damage (DC 13 or be blinded for 3 turns), and Nilvae crits (26 to hit) for 5 damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

A stone sails through the air, transforming into a white egg and striking one of the dretches with unnatural force, splattering yolk and white across its face. Lunging in during the moment of disorientation, Eyegore digs his tiny claws into the demon's eyes. It groans pathetically and tries to shake him off, eyes shut and bleeding when it breaks away.

Faedryl's magic fails again to take hold against the demons, lost in the heat of battle. The blinded one staggers, but resists being battered back by the force of her psionics. The wounded duergar likewise struggling to land a blow steps forward, trying to use the wagon to steady his aim past Stool. This time his shot does better, but sails just past the dretch and down the tunnel south. "Bastard manacles," he mutters, face curling into a frustrated scowl.

Mr. Spide lunges on top of the dretch still producing its foul vapors, dragging it to the ground and ripping into it with his fangs until it goes still.

The demons who think they can scramble away and begin to flee in their short, loping strides. The rest fight furiously. Eyegore's victim throws itself at him recklessly, caring only to spite the one that tore at its eyes. Its claws swipe at the empty air, but then suddenly it leaps upwards and snaps its jaws, catching one of Eyegore's legs and swinging him around until he flies free, its teeth raking his dark flesh. Another demon catches Topsy across the face, leaving a nasty claw mark down her cheek.

Borthan deftly slices down the crowd of dretch around them, and draws a broad slash across the chest of one of the survivors. Those left fight back, but are fended off by the experienced fighters and Spide's swift movements.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae throws a Magic Stone at Dretch E, dealing *5* crit damage.
Faedryl casts Toll the Dead on Dretch G, who resists, but not by much.
Faedryl shoves Dretch E, but it also resists.
Eyegore gouges Dretch E for *4* damage and Blinds it for 3 rounds.
Borthan slashes Dretch Mob for *10* damage total, dispersing it, then deals *10* more damage to Dretch K.
Mr. Spide saves against the Hezrou's stench, but not against the Dretch's. He bites Dretch B for *11* crit damage, finishing it off.
Footgar A misses Dretch E.

Dretches D and F break out of Entanglement and flee.
Dretch A Disengages and flees.
Dretch E misses Eyegore once due to Blindness, then hits for *6* damage with a bite.
Dretch G claws Topsy for *6* damage.
Dretch I fails to hit Ront.
Dretch J fails to hit Mr. Spide.
Dretch K fails to hit Borthan.

Derendil and Stool are up! Remember Stool's spores as well; you can retroactively roll the damage on any of the Dretches within range as of the start of their turn.

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.
Anyone starting their turn within a Dretch Mob or the dark green circles around Dretches B and C must make a DC 11 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A creature poisoned by the dretch's fetid cloud can only take one action or bonus action on its turn, and cannot take reactions.
The stench layers overlap, requiring saves against each of them for those in multiple.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16* - Hezrou Stench Immune

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*
Topsy - 10

Manes - 10

*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (9 rounds)

Derendil lashes out with his claws, seeking to eliminate fleeing foes and cause more foes to flee.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

To hit- (1d20+5)[*25*] and (1d6+5)[*10*] damage (3 Crit damage rolled in discord). If an attack of opp happens- (1d20+5)[*9*] and (1d6+5)[*9*] damage.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: Entangle (2/10 rds); Shillelagh (1/10 rds) 

Like a tiny squishy soldier Stool pushes the frontline further south as he tries to vanquish the flanking party to his right.

*Spoiler*
Show

Move 1 sq south. Shillelagh 17 to hit, 9 damage (5 magic blunt, 4 necrotic) and 5 damage (halo, DC 13 con save)

----------


## RandomWombat

Derendil swiftly and easily slices open the last remaining mane, the pitiful creature ragdolling to the floor.

Stool waddles closer to the line of monsters rabidly flailing at Borthan and the others. His club swings through, smashing open one of their skulls. Spores and fetid demonic ooze splash into the face of another, Stool's flesh-eating druidic cloud gnawing at its flesh.

Whirling around, Ront smashes the softened face of the dretch in and carries through, slamming his shield into the next in the line. Only a couple of the demons remain among them, the rest fleeing - but their slow pace is easily surmounted, if the party chooses to give chase and execute them too.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil critically hits Mane A for *13* damage, slaying it.
Stool shillelaghs Dretch E for *9* damage, taking it down. His spores will retroactively damage Dretch I for *5* damage on its last turn.
Ront slams Dretch I for *14* damage and a take down, then shield bashes Dretch J for *6* damage.
Topsy Disengages and switches to her slingshot, shooting Dretch K for a *13* damage sneak attack, taking it down.

With Initiative cleaned up, everyone *except* Derendil and Stool are now up!

Anyone starting their turn within the green circle around the Hezrou must make a DC 14 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A passed save makes them immune to Hezrou Stench for 24 hours.
Anyone starting their turn within a Dretch Mob or the dark green circles around Dretches B and C must make a DC 11 Con save or be Poisoned until the start of their next turn. A creature poisoned by the dretch's fetid cloud can only take one action or bonus action on its turn, and cannot take reactions.
The stench layers overlap, requiring saves against each of them for those in multiple.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Nilvae - 21*
Mr. Spide - 21 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Faedryl - 20*
Duergar Footgar - 19
*Eyegore - 18*
*Borthan - 16* - Hezrou Stench Immune

Dretches - 16

*Derendil - 15*
Ront - 15 - Hezrou Stench Immune
*Stool - 13*
Topsy - 10
*Sarith - 8*
Buppido - 7
Caged Troglodyte - 6
Shuushar - 5
Turvy - 4
Jimjar - n1 (+3)

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

They were breaking, good. But if they retreated there was always the chance they came back later. Even if they could only whittle down one or two more, it would keep them from a retaliatory strike. For the first time she moves forward, weaving between her allies to stay out of reach of the few dretches still near them as she incants another tolling bell. They're still too close to Bort for her flames. She targets the furthest dretch. The furthest target, and thus the one most likely to leave her range.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* Forward as on map map, using *Bonus Action:* TK push on herself to get an extra 5' of movement.
*Action:* Toll the Dead furthest Dretch still alive (F?). Edit: [roll]Edit: 19 (from discord)+Mods vs. DC14 for (1d12)[*1*] Necrotic (or (1d8)[*5*] if undamaged)





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Sarith follows Faedryl's lead, first loosing one bolt from his hiding place and then darting after, and then past her. He understands intuitively what she's doing and his body moves to respond even without his mind actively participating, as if he's being puppeted by a higher power that responds solely to what Faedryl is aiming for.



*Spoiler*
Show



*Action:* Attack (1d20+8)[*13*](1d20+8)[*15*] on Dretch F. Damage: (1d10+4)[*11*]+(1d6)[*1*] *Edit:* Piercer reroll Sneak attack damage from 1 to 6, per discord.
*Move:*  As on map, using *Bonus Action:* Cunning Action Dash to keep up.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Bort continues madly slashing at dretches, his blows eschewing precision for maddened strength. He was really beginning to hate demons.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Maps kind of a clusterfluff so I'll just attack twice and let the DM put me adjacent to something that needs killing. (1d20+5)[*11*] or (1d20+5)[*8*] to hit, whichever is better. (1d8+3)[*7*] damage. Bonus action- (1d20+5)[*20*] or (1d20+5)[*21*] to hit, whichever is better. (1d8+3)[*11*] damage. (1d8)[*2*] in case of a crit.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 3/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech | Magic Stone (2/3 remaining)
Concentration:  Faerie Fire (2/10 rds) 

Satisfied with the damage he did, and frightened off the last remaining large demon, Eyegore retreats veiling his helpers in darkness once again. Meanwhile Nilvae retreats as she throws a last magic stone before providing new ones.

*Spoiler*
Show

Eyegore moves and activates darkness again.
Nilvae also moves, throws a rock and summons more ammo.
19 to hit, 4 magic blunt damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

Skipping forward with a small telekinetic leap, Faedryl reaches out with a toll of necromantic magic, but the demons resist it still. Acting in concert, Sarith spears a powerful crossbow bolt through her target, considerably more effective - and nearly killing it. Turvy quickly casts a small ray of frost after the wounded dretch, freezing it. The demon shatters as it falls onto the ground.

The troglodyte's clumsy manacled cantrips are likewise being shrugged off with ease; for some reason, necromancy is just not working here today. The cuffed duergar is having just as much trouble, still unable to land a shot with his crossbow.

Borthan rips through the dretch near him, and charges after the ones fleeing. Backing away to the other side of newly encroaching advanced darkness, Nilvae hurls a stone that strikes the last nearby dretch on the shoulder. Walking past her and taking one of the new stones as they pass one another, Jimjar smugly fires a bolt that impales a fleeing dretch on the foot as it runs. Turning around, he performs a backwards ally-oop, sending the stone with mystical accuracy to bonk it on the head and knock it out. *"Two prisoners for questioning can't hurt, right?"* he asks, as an afterthought.

Stepping through the darkness, Shuushar clumsily swings his polearm down like a long, crude club, the demon near the carts easily stepping aside. It draws the demon's attention towards him just as Mr. Spide crawls out of the darkness, allowing the demon to evade the spider's deadly fangs. But its small, gnarled claws find no purchase upon the spider's tough shell.

The last fleeing dretch breaks into a loping four-legged sprint, but there is no hope to escape the swift feet and bolts of Jimjar and Sarith. It is soon hunted down and eradicated. The fighters likewise close in and cut down the final fighting dretch. Ront drags the unconscious demons off to the side where the stench will not be an irritant.

All of the threats taken care off, the duergar sets his crossbow in the cart and raises his empty hands. "At your mercy. Should I be begging or thanking?" he asks, gravelly voice bereft of real gratitude and stained by cynical defeatism. Behind him, the female dwarf at the furthest wagon leans against the bars of her window. "How about bartering? Unlock these doors and I can reward you handsomely."

Lowering her slingshot and catching the stone that curves back to her through the air, Turvy looks at Borthan and Faedryl. Or at least where she approximates Borthan is, based on the axe wounds. "What's the play? I can crack them open."

Standing just off to the side, the robed troglodyte folds her manacled hands in front of her and watches silently.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead on Dretch F, but it is resisted. 
Sarith dashes and lands a *17* damage sneak attack on Dretch F.
Borthan deals *7* and *11* damage to Dretch J, taking it down.
Nilvae magic stones Dretch G for *4* damage and moves back.
Eyegore activates Darkness.

Caged Troglodyte casts a spell at Dretch G, but it resists.
Shuushar makes a non-lethal pike attack at Dretch G, but misses even with Adv.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost at Dretch F, dealing *1* damage and finishing it.
Jimjar lands another *17* damage sneak attack on Dretch A, nearly killing it, then cherry taps it with a bonus magic stone borrowed from Nilvae for a KO.
Mr. Spide misses Dretch G.
Footgar A fires after Dretch D, but misses.

Dretch G misses Mr. Spide twice.

With only two Dretch remaining and each failing to do anything of consequence on their turn, I will call the fight.


*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

-1 Hezrou Prisoner
-1 Dretch Prisoner

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Paranoid
Concentrating on: 

Borthan slung both battle axes over his back, taking a deep breath to try to purge the murderous urges from his soul. When he'd collected himself, he reached into his bag and snagged a torch. "Sorry to all your night eyes, but this negotiation will be better if everyone involved can see each other." He struck flint to steel and lit the torch, lifting it over his head and giving Yisa a good view of her otherwise invisible savior. "A reward would be nice, Yisa, for me and my new friends. But I'd take it as a personal favor if you'd let Mothrok Vrek know I'm alive when you get back to the Stronghold. Alive, and grateful enough to save his former owner's business partners, but free enough to expect to be paid when he does it." He gestures to Turvy. "Unless any of you have moral dilemmas about gettin paid for your bloodshed, let em' loose and open your purses."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl squints for just a moment at the light, but it is just for a moment. Even in the absolute black of the underdark they had little trouble adapting to new light sources - it was just the sun that caused them problems. Borthan seemed to know the people which meant...nothing to her, honestly. His business was his own, until it meant them harm. She looks at the prisoners for a moment, not arguing to them being freed - even after the demon fight she felt confident of their chances if they were attacked again - or the promise of a reward. 

She considers not talking to them at all, ignoring them in favour of having Borthan do the conversation for her, but that would be rude and more importantly waste time. "Do you know a path to the surface?" It's a short, definitive question, and the only one on her mind. Escaping the underdark would be a reward greater than any gold that could be offered, but if they didn't, she'd take what she could get.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

While Faedryl does the talking, Sarith sets about restraining the unconscious demonic prisoners they'd acquired. If they were to be interrogated, then they needed to be a minimal threat when they woke up. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Unclear what options are on the table for restraining the demons from the surrounding caravan, but I assume there's some rope?

----------


## RandomWombat

When Borthan's face appears in the firelight, recognition shows on Ylsa's face. To say it lights her face up wouldn't quite be accurate. There is a slight nod in Borthan's direction, a tip of the head and a subtly longer blink that to most would seem innocuous, but to one familiar with the duergar would read as a sign of genuine respect.

Topsy steps forward to undo the other two locks, freeing the duergar inside, who step out. Ylsa opens another compartment of the foremost wagon and plucks out a spare set of keys for the manacles, beginning to release herself and her surviving crew. With it she takes out a lockbox which clinks with the sound of coin.

"One hundred gold coins per head of duergar rescued, fifty gold coins for the rescue of the last of my slave stock," she counts out the coins methodically, with swift and mechanical precision. The troglodyte looks over with an unreadable reptilian expression when she is mentioned - the slave stock, it would seem. Ylsa deposits five hundred and fifty gold coins in Borthan's hand. "Divide it as you like, Borthan Zuek." She looks at the rest of his company and puts on a smile. It looks unnatural on her face, her grey skin wrinkling in ways that make it look like it's trying to tear open at the very act. Her eyes and body language deliver the feeling of someone who hates wearing ties adjusting one that they must wear to appear presentable for work.

"Allies of Borthan. I will deliver word to Ghorlagh that you are to be added to slave-hunters' no-capture list." This too, it would seem, is part of the promised reward. She takes out a sheet of yellow parchment and a quill, balancing the sheet on her arm with a business woman's formal expertise. She answers Faedryl's question as a side thought, "I am not at liberty to provide that information to foreigners. Names for the records?"

The other duergar eye Buppido warily, as Shuushar moves him into a sitting position against the wall, double checking the derro's vitals.

*Spoiler: History: Ghorlagh*
Show

Borthan treats the DCs as 5 lower.

*Spoiler: DC 1*
Show

You thought it was called Gracklstugh?


*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

A small duergar settlement on the road to the Stronghold of Gracklstugh.


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

Ghorlagh is a town built around an iron mine, where the gathered ore is either shaped into iron products such as pots and pans, or shipped to Gracklstugh to be refined into steel. It also acts as the hub for nearby duergar checkpoints and military installations, such as the one the crew found raided on the path here.


*Spoiler: DC 16*
Show

The governess of Ghorlagh is a priestess of Deep Duerra, the duergar goddess of imperial conquest and psionics. Taskmistress Karva Mindbreaker regularly sends slave raids into the troglodyte tunnels to the south to capture slaves and cull the tribes to prevent them from growing too confident or successful. 

Since the horrid smell of the trogs and their brute mannerisms make them poor servants or even manual laborers in public areas, and undesirable for trade, the subterranean lizardfolk are worked to the bone in the iron mines.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on: 

Borthan jerked his head at the troglodyte and shook the bag to make the coins clink loudly. "How much to free the trog? Keepin in mind we just saved all your lives and I'd be handin you back a pile of your own coin, so I think a generous discount is in order over your normal rates, Yisa. Plus I can't imagine the going rate for a stinker is too high to start with, and we both know I have experience in slave pricing." Bort didn't return her smile. He knew how Grey Dwarf business was conducted, and he meant to use his position of advantage ruthlessly. He made a silent point of tapping the handles of one of his axes, making it clear that he was offering coin as a matter of propriety and respect, but that he didn't intend to let the slavers go with their reptilian livestock. 




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil watched Borthan's interactions with the slaver with marked interest. If it meant sparing some pour soul a life of servitude, he would volunteer his share of the reward, but he was curious if the half-drow would volunteer it without asking.

----------


## RandomWombat

Lifting her head from the page, Ylsa glances at the robed troglodyte. "A mage-slave is often more trouble than they're worth, particularly a trog cultist."

*"I am no cultisst,"* the trog cuts in, speaking in surprisingly skilled Undercommon tinged with a fork-tongued lisp. Ylsa meets her eye for a moment, then returns her gaze to Borthan as they negotiate.

"They tend to get uppity," she continues, not missing a beat from where she left off, "And they have poor constitution for the work we need them for. I will settle for the fifty gold back."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 

Borthan counts out fifty pieces of gold and hands it back to Yisa. Then he hands the remainder over to Faedryl. "You can take the fifty out of my share. And if my share isn't enough I'll owe somebody. I've got no mind for accounting, so I'll leave divying up the reward to you. I'd just lose it or spend it all at the first bar we come to." He grins to show he's jesting, but there is no mirth when his eyes return to Yisa. "Free the lizard, take the names, and then we part ways, Yisa. I don't owe the Duergar a damn thing, and I'm no longer in the habit of spending my free time with slavers. If we meet again, it will be a matter of business between equals and more coin will change hands. You can tell the same to Vrek, if he gives a damn what happened to me." Try as he might, Borthan couldn't keep a thinly veiled note of intense emotion from his voice. What emotion that was was difficult to discern, but there is definitely a stew pot of feelings centered around that name.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 3/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae's head was not ready for negotiating just yet. She knew the song and dance. Her in-laws were basically brokering merchants and assigning their children for arranged marriages, and she hated the very notion of bartering for such things. Slavery, arranged marriages, what was the difference. Her head still spun. She just threw stones at a few demons and they caved. Puck's magic was odd to say the least.

Nilvae. My pet 

Eyegore harrumphs over at the demon picking out eyes for his chain.

Sorry, my friend here is Eyegore, and this creature is called Stool, though he would appreciate if you avoided myconids entirely when slavering.  She smiles, but ultimatively sighs as this means she would resign interacting with the other slaves or saving them. But it was not in their power, and in Nilvae's mind, even though they just killed a mob of demons, Nilvae was still the helpless farm girl caught like a fish out of water.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

_"At liberty"._ Meaning she had the information, and was refusing to offer it. She waits for the coin to finish exchanging hands, and then speaks up again. "We slaughtered these demons, that had you captured and perhaps minutes away from consumption. Your slavehunters aren't a threat to us. An inconvenience, at best." A bold statement, but one she feels confident in. Focused hunts were a concern, random patrols less so. "So when you offer to have them ignore us? Well, I don't see that as worth much."

Quietly, nearby, is the sound of Sarith racking a fresh bolt into his crossbow, the steady turn of the wheelcrank for the strong percussively adding to the threat behind Faedryl's words. He doesn't point the weapon at them but the danger is made clear. "Recent events have left me less than sympathetic to slavers." She doesn't hesitate to step forward. Her body size was nothing to write home about, but she was still taller than the duergar, and still in able health. "So I'll be a bit more clear: Tell us the way to the surface. Now." There was a glimmer of magic in her eyes, the inky black ooze creeping in from the edges to surround her crimson iris. She casts no spells, incants no mantra, however behind her gaze is a visible warning just as clear as Sarith's crossbow: That she will do violence if they do not comply. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Intimidation, with advantage from Sarith: (1d20+1)[*19*](1d20+1)[*12*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 

Borthan's voice becomes sharp, switching to elvish as he addresses Faedryl, eyes lit with naked anger as he turns to face her. "If you continue down this path I hope you're ready to kill them. Because duergar aren't like drow. Threaten one of them and they all stand up and take notice. If you push her enough to tell what she knows and let her go, we'll have Grey Dwarf bounty hunters chasing us all the way to the surface and beyond, in addition to the Drow ones who want to see us all dead, and you in particular. I would know, I used to be one! I know you plan on leaving the Underdark, but you're burnin' every possible bridge on your way out at this rate! And unlike you, these ass hats have a rough idea where I prefer to sleep at night! Have you lost your gotdamn mind!?!"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil doesn't know what he's more alarmed by- Faedryl's willingness to resort to violence, his own inner turmoil about threatening evil beings, or Borthan's angry rant. "It won't do to show weakness or division..." He adds noncommittally in elvish. "If we do this, we must do it as one, united, or we are doomed to fail. Calm down, Borthan." The dark skinned half-elf responds with a "Stuff it, Biggun'!"

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

"If you're so attached to the slavers maybe you should throw yourself on their chains and service them on your knees." Faedryl replies back, sharply, but calmly. She was bristling inside at being undermined, frustrated that he'd speak up mid conversation. She'd let him carry out his price gouging, but he didn't have the same courtesy to her. Even if the Duergar didn't understand their words, they could recognise the naked emotions. "They're note extending a bridge, they're offering us _nothing_ and treating it as a gift. Instead, they tell us how to leave the Underdark they get to go on their merry way unharmed. They don't tell us, they die, and that's that. Problem solved, the end, nothing left." Executing the slavers didn't seem difficult, nor would removing traces of their doing so. Even without her full complement of magic she could destroy the bodies, burn the caravan, and leave no trace of their passage. She turns back to Ylsa, switching out of elven. "Simple exchange: The information for your life. A better trade than you offer most of those you find in the Underdark."

----------


## RandomWombat

Ylsa begins to write down Nilvae's name (and Eyegore's) on her parchment, paying no mind to the capricious fey's eyeball harvesting. Her hand stops moving when Faedryl begins to make her thinly veiled threat, and Sarith's bolt clunks into place, and she breathes out through her nose. The smile worn out of courtesy fades. Lowering the inkpen and folding her parchment to tuck into her shirt pocket. The duergess turns around and starts to walk towards the front cart again.

"Where are you going?" Topsy asks accusingly. Free hand resting at the pommel of her dagger, she chews on a strip of cave lizard jerky she fished out after the fight and flicks her eyes between Borthan and Faedryl. She hadn't spoken up at all to offer her name or her brother's to the grey dwarves, eyeing Ylsa and her band with suspicion. Next to her, Turvy looks on at the break down of any geniality with a grimace and gripping his wand like a safety blanket.

"You want directions? I'm getting a map," Ylsa answers coldly, holding up her empty hands. "May I continue?" Topsy doesn't move her hand away from the dagger's pommel, but nods her chin. Ylsa opens the panel and roots around in the storage compartment. Her subordinates watch her as she does.

*Spoiler: Passive Insight 9+*
Show

Ylsa flexes her hand in what might look innocuous, but the other duergar tense up when they see it. It must be some kind of hand signal, and not one Borthan is familiar with. It may be specific to Ylsa and her crew.


Speaking Elvish as well, Topsy reminds with a flat voice, "Anger the grey dwarves and we'll have no other option than to rely on the fishmen to charter a boat down here. Borthan is right, we can't let them live long enough to report back, not after that." Her eyes narrow and she warns them in a whisper, "And they're planning something. She just gave a signal."

Whatever surprise she has in store, Ylsa pulls out a scroll case from the compartment and walks over to Faedryl, holding it out. "A map to a surface path."

*Spoiler: Borthan*
Show

On his missions, Borthan was given scroll cases much like this. The map inside is a decoy in case of capture or theft, with a hidden second compartment holding the real map between the inner lining and the outer shell of the case.


As she passes off the case, the other duergar silently disappear, winking out of sight using their natural ability to turn invisible. 

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Those who wish to stop them can roll Initiative. Anyone who passes the passive Insight (anyone with a +1 or higher modifier to it, basically) has Advantage on the Initiative roll.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 

Borthan's eyes go wide at Faedryl's insult, his hands curling into fists. He takes an aggressive step towards her before shooting a look at Sarith. He was pretty sure he could put boot to behind on one drow, but two was a tall order after getting mauled by demons in the last fight. Still, he was not one for backing down. Continuing in elvish, he retorts "You can tell someone's a noble by the way they flap their gums like they know someone won't bust their lip for spoutin' off for something they know nothin' about. You may not have a home to go back to, Melad, and I suppose now, thanks to you, neither do I, you jack ass! If it weren't for your foot stool over there and the fact that I just lost half my blood fightin' on the front lines, I'd lay you out! I'm not one of your beaten down males who will take your self-satisfied superiority crap and ask for seconds with a smile!" Then he turns to the retreating Yisa and barks a few words in duergar accented dwarvish. "If there's a real map hidden in that case then you'll have those exits guarded within a few days of getting back to the Stronghold, and if there isn't than this group is no threat to the Clan's security. Either way, you better clear out before they start thinkin' about how easy you handed that over. You tell Vrek what I said."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

She doesn't roll her eyes at the tirade from Borthan, though she certainly does think it. When she speaks she's calm, but drow superiority is a hard tone to kick. "You know Borthan, you're absolutely right, I wouldn't want to deprive you of a place to stay by letting these slavers go." Any moral qualms she has about the betrayal she's perpetrating, going back on her word, is quashed by her own mental justification: they were slavers, letting them leave could put put them in future danger, and could deprive Borthan of a home. Weighing the scales, it seemed to her that taking them down was the best thing for the group. 

She gestures to Sarith to begin the attack, weaving the gesture into begin her spellcasting. "Lets do this quick."



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


As discussed, we're going to combat.
Faedryl made her passive insight - (2d20)[*13*][*7*](20) +2
Sarith does not (1d20+4)[*6*]

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 3/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

In anger, desperation and fear, but not of duergar, Nilvae finally pipes up, shouting. WOULD ALL OF YOU GET TO GRIPS ALREADY? WE ARE FACING A GODS DAMNED DEMON INVASION AND ALL YOU GUYS ARE LOOKING FOR IS IMPROVING YOUR PERSONAL POSITION? Even her familiar is shocked by the emotional outburst, and he is a fey that was warned Nilvae was a bit unstable. Stool hides behind Borthan.

Nilvae takes a deep breath, knowing she shouldn't continue shouting if she wanted an audience. Are you actually this dense in believing the demons would stop once their summoners have what their goal was? The fiends will rampage on the material plane, Underdark or not. This and only this should be our primary concern. I do not subscribe to slavery, and I see your duplicious methods Ylsa. Call back your damn warriors or we will murder you.

But this is not the time for more bloodshed. We are denizens of this world, we should look into this demon thing, not go at each other's throats. There is enough time aftert his incident. Ylsa you should warn your clan that demons are running amok, and they are murdering drow and duergar alike. They are an enemy to all live. Calming down, Nilvae is covered in cold sweat and shaking. The issue shook her to the core, and her touch with insanity is not helping.

*Spoiler*
Show

Instead of fighting, Nilvae opts for Persuasion, hopefully with advantage from Stool.
(2d20)[*10*] 12 or 7 +6






*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: - 

Stool is extruding a nearly invisible cloud of sweet spores, basically agreeing to Nilvae's thoughts. Yellow hair woman is right. Demons a threat to life. We can go different ways and help our families. Warn all others.

----------


## RandomWombat

"Call back my warriors to be murdered, you mean, Ylsa answers Nilvae in a deadpan as she goes for a dagger tucked into her boot. Her face is set like stone, and she growls at Borthan in Elvish, "_Treacherous Shadow_. I should never have trusted a drow-blood." There are sounds of movement as some of the invisible duergar begin to scatter, their new locations unknown.

*Spoiler: Combat Logs*
Show

Duergar Soulblades move invisibly, passing Stealth to conceal their new positions.

Borthan is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Duergar Soulblade - n20 (23)

*Borthan* - 23
Topsy - 22
Jimjar - 19

Ylsa - 19

Robed Trog - 16
*Faedryl* - 15
*Nilvae, Eyegore, Stool* - 14.6

Duergar Footgar - 13

Ront - 11
Turvy - 11
Sarith - 6
Derendil - 6
Shuushar - 3

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Dodge 
Concentrating on: 

Borthan growls out a response in dwarvish as he draws his battle axes. "I was appealing to their better natures! Too bad I forgot that everyone down here is a bastard! NOW TURN INVISIBLE AND FLEE YOU GOTDAMN IDIOT!" Borthan raises his axes defensively, crossing them to give himself the best defense possible... and steps in front of Yisa, turning his back to her and placing himself between the duergar and his allies, specifically minding Sarith's crossbow. In undercommon, he says "I won't fight you all! But I will ask you one more time. DO NOT ****ING DO THIS! Are we no better than them?!? And do you really think you can hunt down a half dozen invisible duergar in the dark!?! I don't kill wounded prisoners, and neither should you!"



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Dodge action. Move in front of Yisa. Choose the neutral path. For poops and giggles, here's a persuasion check- (1d20-1)[*11*]

----------


## RandomWombat

Drawing her dagger, Topsy disregards Ylsa and Borthan, focusing on the duergar whose locations are unknown. The gnome's analytic gaze scans their surroundings and she points out, "Something stepped in spider blood there," she points at bootprints in dried ichor leading west, then she turns and faces Sarith. "I heard the other one run over there you, they should be near you!"

Running forward, Jimjar reaches up and places a hand on Faedryl's arm. *"Borthan is right, and Nilvae has a point too. There's a greater evil at play here, why murder people we just went through the effort of saving?"* he pleads, leaving his weapon holstered. Taking the chance to cut and run with her crew, Ylsa wastes no more time on words and scrambles over the fallen steeder and slides back to the ground on the other side.

From the sidelines, the newly freed troglodyte speaks up as well, *"I have information about the demonss. Pleasse, the dwarvess are vile, but they are not the true enemy."*

*Spoiler: Combat Logs*
Show

Borthan moves between Sarith and Ylsa and Dodges.
Topsy uses active Perception to track the invisible Duergar. She uses ranged Help to give Sarith Advantage on his next attack roll.
Jimjar gives Borthan Advantage on his Persuasion roll.

Ylsa Disengages from Faedryl and attempts to flee.

Faedryl and Spore's characters are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Duergar Soulblade - n20 (23)

*Borthan* - 23
Topsy - 22
Jimjar - 19

Ylsa - 19

Robed Trog - 16
*Faedryl* - 15
*Nilvae, Eyegore, Stool* - 14.6

Duergar Footgar - 13

Ront - 11
Turvy - 11
Sarith - 6
Derendil - 6
Shuushar - 3

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

She's glaring daggers into Borthan, and for a moment her glyphs are pointed directly at him - but she holds, the spell incomplete. Her elven comes out in a moment. "So we should wait for their daggers in our back? Trust the good word of slavers that they'll let us live free, that they're not collecting our names for their capture list? Would you have trusted the same with drow?" She spits to one side, her hand still clutching the gleaming spellwork in front of her. Runes of flame that pulse with energy, ready to be unleashed. With her mind she lashes out past the half-elf, thrusting Ylsa's cover aside with her mind to reveal the Duergar once more. The dead wouldn't cover her from Faedryl. She makes sure they lock eyes, that Ylsa sees what's coming - but doesn't arrive. "Fine, let them leave!" She calls out in Undercommon. "And let them know the name Ilvarra. If they want to take their vengeance, they can _try_ to hunt me."



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* TK shove the fallen steeder aside, making clear that Ylsa's cover is pointless.
*Ready Action:* Create Bonfire under the feet of any duergar who appear. DC14 Dex (1d8)[*8*] fire damage.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 

Borthan locks eyes with Faedryl when he responds. "Will a Grey Dwarf grief you for more coin? Draw on you when they think you're weak? Bind you in chains if they come across you when you're poopin'? All 9 Hells yes, they will! But will they break their word once it is given? Doubtful. They'll twist that promise every which way they can for an advantage, but not break it. I'm here today because a duergar who had every reason not to kept a promise to a slave. They might be slaving, evil, scum-of-the-earth sunnuvabitches, but they are not known for breaking oaths once struck. That's why I prefer them to drow! Trustin' your kin to honor their word is what got me here in the first place!"

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 3/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

You're all idiots. Run as fast as you can, dwarf. We have fey magics and nature on our side. We have the greater number, and you have no quarry with us. Nilvae says referring to not only her magic, but also drow magic, Borthan's skills and Stool's magic. 

*Spoiler*
Show

Preparing to cast Faerie Fire on herself if she is to be attacked by creatures that stay invisible.






*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: - 

Stool just hums sadly as his weapon grows again.

----------


## RandomWombat

The duergar do not call back any further words, to taunt the party or otherwise. Soon there is only the silence of the crossroads, broken by their own internal bickering.

"We should probably have decided on a plan for what to do with the dwarves _before_ we got here," the gnomish rogue points out, still holding her dagger in hand and glancing around as if expecting a counter-ambush any moment.

"Blubt dhere was no reason to adtack dhem," Shuushar counters in his nasally, gurgling voice.

"_Now_ we get what they left behind," baring his tusks in an orcish grin, Ront points at the three abandoned wagons, shedding some light on perhaps a silver lining in this chaotic mess.


While the others discuss the duergar and their potential abandoned treasures in the wagons' now less-hidden compartments, Turvy approaches the troglodyte they freed. "You uh, said you knew something, about, about the demons," he mutters nervously, not used to taking an active role with others.

*"Yess. I wass ssent by the Ssociety of Brilliance to invesstigate the risse of demonic activity. It sstruck the entire Northdark, all at once."* Looking past the fidgeting gnome at the others, and chiefly towards Borthan, she offers up her shackled arms. *"May we disscusss thiss with thesse off?"*

*Spoiler: Combat Logs*
Show

With those aggressing standing down, the duergar flee without taking violent action.


*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

The compartments of the duergar slave wagons contain:
-1 Mithril Warpick (1d12 damage, 2h, Heavy piercing weapon (effectively a piercing Greataxe); Mithril is half as heavy as steel, and treated as Silver)
-1 Heavy Crossbow
-2 quivers of Heavy Crossbow bolts
-4 rolls of Toilet Paper
-12 sets of Manacles and accompanying keys (the one the trog is wearing included)
-4 doses of Synthetic Venom (Injury Poison; DC 10 Con for half vs 3d6 poison damage)
-3 doses of Sedative (Ingested Poison; DC 14 Con save or take 1 level of Exhaustion) contained in special Sedative Darts which can inject their payload to deliver it as an Injury Poison
-4 vials of Acid
*Spoiler: Steeders*
Show

Steeders have an acidic venom in their bite. With a DC 15 Nature check, acid can be milked from each dead spider's acid gland into a flask or bottle, producing a vial of Acid. If the check is failed by less than 5, the vial is still obtained, but the milker takes 1d6 acid damage. If it is failed by 5 or more, they take acid damage and gain no vial.

-An unidentified magical Wand made out of stone and set with a topaz

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 19/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

There's a glimmer as Faedryl pulls her hand together and lets the spell drop, the brief light it cast out disappearing into the darkness. "Well, I confess I had no idea that Borthan held such affection for slavers, especially after he was so eager to offer alms to the group of slaves earlier." She says it with the air of someone who doesn't really care either way - but she's twisting a knife in. When they next found a group of escaped slaves, or remnants of those taken, she hopes he would remember this moment, when he chose to let them go. Wounded prisoners of demons or no, they would now go on to cause more harm. Harm that could have been stopped by Faedryl and the group. 

But what was done was done. She leaves the trog to the others and works on harvesting the remnants of the duergar caravan, making sure to grab anything of value. The topaz-inset wand is of particular attention to her, and once she's taken what they need, she sets about in teasing apart the weave of the wand to discover its powers. 




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

There's a moment of disappointment in his heart when the duergar choose to flee instead of die, but it wasn't his decision to make and...wait, why wasn't it? He had a voice, the same as the rest of them. Yet he'd fallen into line so quickly, obediently, without a second thought. Maybe it was simply because it offered more chances to die. Maybe it was because he had nothing else to do or live for. Maybe...maybe she was right, and that he was just following along because of the way the drow had made him.

So wrapped up in his own thoughts that he instead chooses to focus on reclaiming some of his spent bolts, taking a moment to grab some additional ones from the dwarves' stash. Whatever voice he wanted to offer now...he didn't feel like it was 'his'. Not truly. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Sarith's grabbing the heavy crossbow bolts unless someone wants to claim the other heavy crossbow, in which case he'll split them.

Lootdoc updated.

Absent any other activities, Faedryl's going to spend the hour waiting for the demons waking up on identifying the stone wand.

----------


## RandomWombat

Taking time to meditate upon the object as the group takes a short rest, Faedryl lets her personal Weave run in and through it, feeling the contours of the magic within

*Spoiler: The Wand*
Show

Faedryl senses the base functions of the *Stoneshaper*. It holds 3 Charges. By spending 1 Charge, the wielder can use it as a Stonemason's Tools, greatly accelerating the work mason's by cutting and shifting stone using magic, functioning similarly to the Mold Earth spell, but affecting solid stone. It regains 1 Charge each day.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 

"Slavers are scum. But I don't exterminate scum unless I'm paid. Are you gonna tell me that the Melad's did all their own dishes and cooked their own meals, Faedryl? Does the fact that you benefitted from slavery mean I should kill you, too? I'm not the smartest man in the world, but I know if you look at things in black in white everyone deserves to die. No one is innocent, and I don't have the time or energy to execute the whole damn world." Borthan spits a bit of blood on the stone and turns away. "Meant what I said. Push me again and you get pushed back harder. Simple as that." Borthan leaves it at that as he approaches Shushar to ask for some bandages.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil looked to Borthan, then to Faedryl, then back. He opened his mouth, then let his jaw go slack as he realized he had no words to aid the situation. The two of them were acting in some form of leadership position for the group, and it seems for now they were at odds. He didn't trust himself to settle this feud in one swift social blow, but he would do his best to mend the fracture in their group given time. He only hoped his efforts would not be too late to prevent a more severe split.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 3/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae sides with Turvy, confident the gnome would need a bit of argumentative backup. Can you tell us more about this Society? What is their goal? It sounds very mage-y to me, to be perfectly honest.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
0 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan sat stoically as He was bandaged, thanked Shushar quietly and in a single monosyllable, then spends time sorting through loot. He briefly considered milking the spiders for venom, but he didn't trust his skill enough to attempt to harvest them unscathed. Plus, they were flush with poison as is. He took three vials if no one stopped him, turning to first Jimjar, then Topsy,  then after a moment's pause to Sarith to pass out the others.. I think we can make the most of these. Don't hesitate to use em, because believe it or not poisons can go bad. Ront is more blunt damage, Big Un' probably doesn't want to rub this stuff on his claws, and the rest are magic or... whatever that thing is." He gestures at Eyegore with a shiver. 

It was only after the loot had been dispersed that Borthan did his best to get the chains off the troglodyte. Once freed, he would offer them some dried meat. I know the Grays keep you hungry. Keep you weak. When they feed you well is when they want you to do something, so you're on a buzz in your starved brain. Welcome to freedom, such as it is. You're with a bands of miscreant escapees from a rough part of the Underdark where bad people were doing terrible things to slightly nicer people. I won't bore you with the details, but it was a bonding experience, as you can see from how nice we are to each other." He gestures vaguely in Faedryl's direction with no shortage of sarcasm. We've got different goals, but for now we function relatively effectively for each other's interests. Some are headin' for the surface. Some are tryin' to get home. Some ain't got no home to go back to. Either way, each day is different. But I'm not smart enough to pont-if-ek-cate about it." He tosses the chains down and gestures to Turvy and the hezrou in turn. "So on to the gnome's question. What's this pit-damned thing doing here?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil would approach Faedryl as people were being dispersed for a moment's respite. Speaking in haughty high elvish, we posited. I think you'll catch more gnats with honey than vinegar with that one." he leveled his feline eyes on Borthan pointedly. "He's... shown a weak psyche so far. And he has a strange set of ethics about him. He's conflicted. If you provoke him he may lose his temper, and that could spell the end for the unity this group seems to operate under. If not him..." he looks pointedly to Ront as he was rooting through the dueregar's belongings, finding a coin and testing it with his teeth. "Then we may fracture. Which does not suit anyone's goals. Does my logic follow?" He came across as cautious with his words, as though he were communicating with a particularly dangerous snake who happened to be making decisions for him. He was still not... used... to following in the footsteps of a Drow, and now he followed two and a half of them. But he was more flexible than most of his kind. When confronted with necessity at least.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

The wand's workings were becoming clear to her, along with how useful it could be. Quite the find indeed. She wasn't sure whether it would be better to keep hold of it or sell it off at a high price. No doubt any denizen of the underdark would find significant use of it. When Derendil interrupts - or more generously, simply chimes in - with his two coppers she sighs, looking up at him only briefly. "Expecting a drow to be considerate of other's minds is a bit much, don't you think?" Deflecting humour, self-deprecating, and using it as a shield. So quick she was to fall back on the stereotypes of her origins. She wasn't happy about that, and tries not to let it show. "I'm a big enough girl to admit that I could've handled it better, though he didn't help." She plucks a strand of magic from the wand, gleaming in the darkness, before teasing it against her tongue, tasting the matrices of the enchantment. Sour, as expected. "With any luck it'll be the last slaver we come across and it won't come up again. We'll get our boat from the fish, head to one of the exits from the slaver's maps and be new-home free." It was entirely too optimistic, and she doesn't believe it will be that easy, but she'd read once that keeping up morale with positivity was important, even if it meant being farcically hopeful.

----------


## RandomWombat

Curling her lip a little at the fleeing duergar, Topsy returns her dagger to its scabbard. "This better not bite us in the ass..." she grumbles, joining Borthan and Ront sorting through the loot. Taking a vial of the offered poison, she examines it through the clear glass. "Labelled in dwarvish. Synthetic Venom No. 5, it says. No clear indication of what it's made of, but I'm guessing it's going to hurt whatever you get it in." Stowing the vial away, she offers only a small nod of acknowledgement.

Jimjar takes one as well, spinning the stoppered vial between his fingers. *"Thanks, Bort,"* he says amicably, flashing pearly white teeth at the half-drow and hopping onto one of the wagons to lounge on one of the seats while they rest.


Shuushar helps Borthan bind his wounds, mouth stretched in a broad smile. "I amg glad you were ablebl do calm dings down, widout any bloobdshed." The fishman's left eye drifts out of focus to peer at Buppido, as the derro slumped against the wall starts to stir. His wild eyes flutter open, immediately grabbing a sharp stone and lunging to his feet - then stopping. Buppido peers around slowly. "Ibd's alright, we were vigdorious," the kuo-toa holds up an empty palm, and motions towards the captive demons.

"Naturally," Buppido's stature calms and his voice regains its composure, as he buttons his bloody shirt back up. "You have my gratitude for _maintaining_ this vessel, once more," he says, softly, stepping over to peer at the demons from beyond the invisible barrier of their stench.


The trog woman inclines her long, flat, arrow-like head towards Nilvae. She speaks in rough Common back to the surfacer, *"Many of usss, magic usserss. I am one. But we are not... married to magic artss. We are to improve the Under sssociety through knowledge, undersstanding."* 

After Borthan unlocks her bindings, she rubs her wrists and takes the offered piece of meat. Showing impressive restraint for a species known for its rampant gluttony, she holds it in both hands and folds them in front of her, resisting despite visibly salivating. *"Thank you. And your companionsss. My name is Skriss."* Listening to Borthan's tail with an unreadable reptilian expression, she peers at the two demons piled in a heap in the corner, now being guarded by both Buppido and Ront, who is examining a roll of toilet paper in his massive palm as if trying to figure out its function.

*"A week ago by guessss, faerzresss reacted sstrangely everywhere. Demonss began to sspread through the Northdark,"* Skriss begins, sticking to Common for Nilvae's benefit, *"Otherss and I, ssplit to ssearch for a reasson. Invessstigate familiar placess. I found former tribe sserving demonss."* Raising one hand from in front of her, she motions a sharp talon at the hezrou and dretch. *"They ansswer to Laogzed, demon lord. Great devouring lizard, my people worsship for long agess. Now, he isss here, in a ravine. The demonss demand ssacrificess to ssate his hunger."*

Turvy pales, stammering. "A... a demon lord? Here? Nearby?"

*"My friend, Blurg, hass alsso heard Yeenoghu 'ssave' village of Filthriddenss from minotaur invassion,"* Skriss continues solemnly. Nilvae feels a sharp piercing twinge behind her skull as she hears the name 'Yeenoghu'. *"Ssummoning of not one, but two demon lordss, a true disssaster! We are trying to learn how it happened."*

*Spoiler: Arcana: Faerzress*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 1*
Show

That's the stuff that grows out of stone flooring, right?


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

Faerzess is a common phenomena in the Underdark. Areas suffused with a humming, ambient magical force, difficult to harness or influence. These places interfere with conjuration and divination magic, and can cause other forms of magic to turn Wild. It makes travel by teleportation in the Underdark a dangerous proposition, as passing through faerzess will cause the spell to mishap.


*Spoiler: DC 18*
Show

Menzoberranzan was built near and around several potent pockets of faerzess, which are used strategically by the drow to prevent their enemies from spying on them or teleporting into their most secure vaults. It's likely that the ward on the motley crew's prison cell in Velkynvelve was created by harnessing faerzess somehow.



*Spoiler: History: Filthriddens*
Show

Borthan treats the DC as 5 lower.

*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

A haven for outcasts, criminals and discontents to hole up away from prying eyes, located in a winding and difficult to traverse area of the Northdark called the Labyrinth. Trying to pursue a mark into Filthriddens is a bounty hunter's nightmare, as the villagers will shelter and hide their own from any form of law enforcement.


*Spoiler: DC 18*
Show

Filthriddens is known to have ongoing conflicts with the minotaurs that consider the Labyrinth a sacred place of their patron, the demon lord Baphomet. They are regularly raided and forced to rebuild.



*Spoiler: Religion: Yeenoghu*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 8*
Show

The demon lord of gnolls, lord of ruination. His followers are infamous for terrorizing civilization and trying to tear down or defile any monuments to order.


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

It is no secret that Yeenoghu and Baphomet, Lord of Minotaurs, share a deep and rooted rivalry. It is unknown what sparked this intense opposition, if anything other than their spiteful nature, but gnolls and minotaurs dropping everything to fight one another even to the detriment of their own goals is fairly normal.


*Spoiler: DC 18*
Show

Yeenoghu also possesses some influence over the undead, after for a time enslaving and stealing power from one of Orcus' favored servants. This has spread his domain to encompass Rot and Ruin. Undead created in Yeenoghu's name often carry blight and disease with them.




While they receive a briefing from the trog, Topsy walks over to where Derendil and Faedryl are talking. She takes a seat nearby, examining the wand that Faedryl is analyzing. "Is it anything useful?" she asks, not wasting time on platitudes.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

"Some toilet paper, which can be used, or sold I expect. I don't know if kua-toans are much in need of it though." They probably just wash themselves, though that idea isn't much more pleasant - swimming in water filled with fishperson faeces was hardly her idea of a good time. 

She's left the trog interrogation to the others, and is focused on her task, so she doesn't pay much attention to whatever they're saying. She'd find out soon enough either way. "The wand allows the near instantaneous molding of stone, allowing you to shift significant quantities of it with a flick of your wrist, if I'm right. Sadly it's not unlimited in power, a few uses a day at most, otherwise I'd just tunnel upwards and we'd be out in no time whatsoever." She peers upwards, as far as the eyes will go. She doesn't know just how deep they are below the surface. Miles, she expects. A dozen? Two? It would be slow going with a theoretically unlimited wand, but it would be doable. As it was though, limited charges meant it would years of trying to form a new exit with just the tools they had on hand. No, sadly it would be better used as a tool for traveling to an existing place to leave, rather than making one of their own.

----------


## RandomWombat

"We could try to figure out how they make it," Topsy comments on the toilet paper, flicking her eyes to the roll Ront is messing with and splitting into a wily grin. She looks at Faedryl and pointedly rubs her finger and her thumb together. "Nobles pay top gold for that stuff. I'm sure others have started developing their own knockoffs, but nobody can manufacture it in as much quantity as the Grays. Plenty of empty corners in the market."

News of the wand likewise leaves her pleased. "That thing could open plenty of doors down here, literally and figuratively." Her gaze follows Faedryl's upwards. "Maybe not that door. Actually, we could use that to close our campsites, couldn't we? Do it right and we'd look like any other section of stone wall."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
0 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan listens to Skriss' tale, eyes focused on the ground while he listens. When the reptilian mentions disaster, Borthan shakes his head. "Not a disaster. An attack. On our reality. I'm no expert on demons, but if two of their biggest names have been summoned into our world this close together, you're askin' the wrong question. Sure, finding out what happened may be the first step, but that's not the hard part or the most important part. You... and maybe we... like all of us who care about stayin' alive we... need to find out who is summoning the next one, and shut em down before the local population of all powerful killing machines someone has to kick the crap out of goes up by one."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil scratches at his chin, following the gist of the conversation without knowing all of the highlights. When Bort interjects with the theory of stopping a third demon lord from being summoned, his jaw drops for a moment in surprise before snapping it shut and shaking his head enthusiastically. "You think this is only the beginning? Surely this couldn't be. Getting even one demon lord to work with another is a monumental enough threat to deal with, and you want to throw more worries on the pyre? Let us handle this one at a time."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

"Quite so. It should allow greater safety when it comes to camping outside of settlements." Not that she was looking forward to continuing to do that. She could use some civilisation, instead of rocks and scavenging for mushrooms in the dirt. Not that she expected life on the surface to be easy by any stretch, but her magical talents would earn her a place somewhere. Long enough, at least, to plan their next moves.

----------


## RandomWombat

*"I do not have the ansswerss. It could be a sssummoner, or a natural rift. But,"* Skriss narrows her eyes and gazes down the south tunnel. *"Laogzed iss not an ambitiousss creature. It iss sslothful. Unlikely to wander into a rift. We ssshould quesstion the demonss how they got here."*

The hezrou and dretch are now tied up with rope. The dretch is also cuffed, but the massive tree-trunk arms of the hezrou were too large for manacles, and the rope might not hold against its efforts to break free on their own. But their own hulking brutes can tip things in their favor.

Once everyone has had a chance to take a breather and gathered around, Ront steps forward and presses a foot down on the demon's chest, putting his weight on it and pinning its arms underneath. With a grunt and guttural grow, the hezrou twitches and bares its teeth, beginning to come around.

"You should help him keep it pinned," Topsy advises Derendil, she herself keeping a comfortable distance from the stench of the thing.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 3/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -




> "Expecting a drow to be considerate of other's minds is a bit much, don't you think?"


Nilvae smiles at Faedryl. We make a great team though. I think Ront enjoys his, uh, work, and you're glad someone else is punching your enemies, my darling princess. She looks at Borthan and then oddly enough Stool. I am too. We are back here, looking pretty, doing girl-boss things.

The surface half-breed listens to the trog explain her things. Ohh, Borthan told me of Filthriddens. Some undercity, even low for Underdark standards, and I swear I am not trying to make puns here. The minotaur worshipping Baphomet want the labyrinth for themselves though. Some kind of spiritual thing. Nilvae crosses her arms in front of Borthan. You need to remember these things, Bort. Almost worse than my fiancé-in-waiting. This is like your hunting ground if you want to bountyhunt down here, man. Her smile softens. 

She turns to the trog, trying in her best Undercommon impression, with a heavy elven accent. You...uh...pray...or...book magic? She looks puzzled, barely figuring out her own words, trying to wrap her head around the common tongue underground. It was some weird mix of gnomish, dwarven and an ancient elven accent. Does it speak? Nilvae points towards the demons.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl raises an eyebrow at being addressed as such by Nilvae and for a moment considers a scathing retort and rejection, but in deference to Derendil's advice lets it slide. This time, at least. Such familiarity was perhaps usual among others - among the surfacers, even, another thing she might have to become accustomed to - but for Faedryl such words were only to be shared with one other, and that one was gone. A silent prayer to 
Eilistraee crosses her mind, that they might reunite when all her work was done. Any further ruminations on those she lost are cut short with the demon awakening. 

Standing from her seat and slinging the wand to her belt, she takes up position nearby - but also pointedly away from the stench - and readies a spell, clutching the gleaming spellwork of flames half-finished as the glyph glows in the palm of her hand. Sarith racks another bolt into his crossbow. If it got out of control, they'd put it down before it could do any real damage, and hopefully the preparations for doing so would keep the demon subdued long enough to answer some questions. She didn't want to knock it out again and wait longer - the sooner they got the answers the better.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
0 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan, bandaged and refreshed, snorts at Nilvae and tries to ignore the fact that she has a point. He did know that information. But in the moment, he could not summon the knowledge in his mind. He moves to the hezrou's left arm and wraps his arms around it, pinning it down with his full bodyweight. He watches Derendil move to do the same on the right. Then he looks the demon in the eye and bares his teeth. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey, you ugly monster."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil follows in Borthan's lead and pins the right hand arm, fastening his claws to shred at the demon in case of any risk of escape. "I don't speak Abyssal. Hopefully it speaks Common."

----------


## RandomWombat

The demon snaps its jaws and gnashes its teeth at Borthan when he speaks to it, but Ront moves his foot and presses down on the thing's broad throat, pinning it back against the stone. He does seem to be enjoying his job. Grinning wide with a mighty foe trapped underfoot. The demon for its part growls and shouts up at him in its guttural tongue.

"It um, it's asking if... if you intend to kill it or just play around," Turvy says, trailing away as he translates the demon's words for them.

*"So you can talk to demons, eh? You sure you aren't secretly a cultist?"* still lounging on the edge of one of the wagons, Jimjar leans his head out and teases his kinsgnome with a grin that says he's quite confident it isn't the case.

"Well, it's not-"

"Lay off him, grifter," snaps the other twin, rolling her shoulders and looking up at Faedryl. "Whatever you want to ask, Turvy will do the translating." She prods her brother in the side, making him flinch. "And try to show some confidence or the demon's just going to laugh you off."

Another of their companions speaks up, Buppido cutting in with his smooth silken voice. "Or _I_ could do it."

"_You_ know Abyssal? Now you being a demon cultist I'd believe."

"Demons are beneath me," he waves off her concerns with his hand as if swatting a fly. "Just tell me what you'd like to know."


*"You are unfamiliar with the under-common,"* Skriss observes as Nilvae tries to piece together a few words. *"It isss alright. I sspeak the ssurface-common acceptably."* Reaching down to her belt, where she's retrieved her possessions from the duergar carts, she takes up a notebook. *"I am a sspellcasster. I sstudy magic, but not the ussual magic. I sstudy how to do magic like the faithful."* She struggles a little to find the right words, fidgeting her tongue between her sharp teeth. *"Ssimple way to ssay it iss I am a wizard who healss."*

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Readied Create Bonfire

She doesn't inquire, or bother herself, with why her companions might know the languages of demons. She had knowledge of an _esoteric_ language herself, and would appreciate people not prying into the specifics as to why should it ever come up. Do unto others, and all that. "Assuming it can't understand me and isn't being difficult as demons tend to be, please," It was getting easier to say the word, but still uncomfortable, "ask why there's so many demons roaming the area - then details on leaders, plans, numbers. That sort of thing." She'd leave the exact wording to the translators. Her spell, still gleaming with fiery runes, continues to be held at the ready. A quiet, but showy, threat.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae approaches Faedryl's position. Faedryl, milady. You can't just wave your hand and try to make your friends do all the hard work of arguing. You need a bit of presence, and adress those under you with a bit of elegance, yet superiority. Odd, that rural 'nobility' like me has to teach you some manners. You want answers AND a good translation? Then provide the interpreter some glamorous words. Nilvae said in an honest and caring tone, unsure if the content of her words or her honeyed tone aggravated the wizard more. The warlock beckons her fey companion as she approaches the demon until she is about 10 feet away.

Now, my dear abyssal friend. You can have this two ways. The first one is that you give us the location and name of your master. You tell us roughly how many of you there are, and if you have the ability to reinforce. If you choose not to cooperate, there are things worse than banishing you to the Abyss again. No, that would be too easy for you. I know you are also quite resistant to punishment as a result of eons of torment in the lower planes. But permanent curses, gouged out eyes, or sending other body parts to the Abyss before you? How's that feel? Your worth as a soldier will be diminished, your pride broken, and your bosses will not even be done with you. Eyegore? Do show this gentle creature what you do.

The small black fey eagerly approaches, prods and gouges at the eye.

*Spoiler*
Show

Intimidate (2d20)[*5*][*15*](20) +4 assisted by Eyegore plucking a single eye out.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Readied Create Bonfire

Faedryl's nostrils flare in barely concealed irritation at Nilvae's 'correction', but with some notable self control she remains silent. Arguing in front of a bunch of duergar slavers was one thing, but they actually needed the demon's information and if it started poking at the group it risked splintering it, as Derendil had advised. Words would be had later, once they'd dispatched it.

----------


## RandomWombat

Stepping up alongside Nilvae, Buppido begins to speak down to the captive demon. Whether he is translating her words or delivering his own isn't quite clear. The hezrou glares up in defiance as tries to snap its jaws at Eyegore until Ront holds its mouth shut. No fear is shown in its expression as Eyegore tears out its eye, only pain and rage. If anything it takes this as a challenge.

As he and Nilvae finish speaking, Buppido motions for Ront to let go of its mouth. A tirade of spittle and profanity are loosed from its mouth, the vulgar content of the words evident even to those uneducated in Abyssal. Turvy visibly flinches at its words, but Buppido's gaze remains cold and focused, a slight smile forming on his face. "The demon very rudely boasts that they and their troglodyte servants will take Ghorlagh and feast upon its people. A favored priest of Laogzed leads them, and there are 'legions of dretch' and 'still other' hezrou who will gnash your bones to dust," Buppido stops to aside to Faedryl, "I do not think he knows how to count."

Turning back to the hezrou, he asks further questions. It hisses and spits a gob of stinking fluid at him, which he sidesteps coolly. Ront grabs it by the face again and presses its jaw shut. Stoking his mustache, Buppido hums. "No answer about how the demons got here."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Readied Create Bonfire

"Well that helps at least. We know where they're going - to go kill a bunch of Duergar slavers." Faedryl says, somewhat satisfied. "Steer clear of there and we avoid the demons.  Let the dwarves and the abyssal monsters throw themselves at each other while we head in the opposite direction." In her mind, it made sense: They were barely a dozen, all told. Unlikely to make any difference against a "legion" of dretches. The town would stand or fall without them, and likewise so would the city. The smartest move to her is to do their best to avoid any further confrontations and head for the fish. She didn't much fancy trying to sell 'save the town' to the rest of the group, as she's rather sure Borthan will try. "Command the demon to tell us what their goal is after they've sacked Ghorlagh. Presumably they won't just go back to the Abyss once they're done." If they could make use of the demon's rampage to secure themselves an exit, so much the better.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
0 of 3 d10 HD.

"If the demon won't talk, do we really need to keep it alive?" Bort spits down on the creature.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil watched the mutilation of the demon by the... creature that served the addled woman with disgust open on his features, but he would not speak up in defense of this chaotic killing machine.

----------


## RandomWombat

Putting on a haughty look that seems to irk the demon even further, Buppido motions Ront to allow it to open its mouth again. Speaking once more in the dark tongue of the Abyss, Buppido taunts and prods the hezrou. The demon roars at him and shouts something back, which Buppido waves off in annoyance. "It is only threatening to feast on our entrails now. I doubt I can coax anything else of use from this thing. Decapitate it at your leisure," he bids Borthan.

*"If the priesst uniting the tribess can be sstricken down, maybe we can ssstop the invassion,"* the lisping voice of the trog mage posits. *"There are thosse I have reached. Sssome might-"*

"I don't see how this is even slightly our problem," Topsy cuts her off mid-sentence, one arm resting on the other and dagger twirling between her fingers. "We came out of curiosity, to see what the demons were here for and if it affected our plans. Now we know, and it doesn't. I'm with Faedryl, leave this problem to the duergar army." Fidgeting behind her, Turvy looks like he wants to speak up, but is cowed by his own lack of force.

"It is, however, my problem," Buppido states smoothly. "They are threatening _my_ associates in the duergar territory. And I promise those who aid me will be greatly rewarded once I meet with those associates again."

"Then maybe it's come time that our goals _don't_ all align. In which case I'm fine with parting on... okay terms," the surly gnomess states.

Ront and Shuushar look uncertain of which way they wish to go. To seek glory in battle, or settle for slaying one hulking demon? To stay and help others, or return home to his own people? 

Jimjar is paying little attention to the discussion at all, now playing a game of solitaire with himself on the slave cart.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Looking at the gore before her not even dodging the discolored blood on her face, nor bothering to wipe it off, Nilvae calmly states: Then we are at an impasse. Splitting up seems even less smart now that we know there are several hordes of demons running amok. I would like to reach the surface again, and I would like to avoid demons if at all possible. She turns to Faedryl.

But you must agree that having a base of operations and some more supplies would help up, Faedryl. We know of no direct way to the surface, and as much as a yearn for the sun and moon, I am not getting myself killed in a short-sighted plan to reach the surface.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Readied Create Bonfire

"We have a map." Faedryl gestures to the tube, 'generously' provided by the slaver. She'd wanted to hold off on dealing with that until they'd dealt with the demon to properly analyse it - and the wand had come first. "I'm not sure a duergar town about to be under siege is the ideal sanctuary, even if Borthan might be able to talk our way in."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
0 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan ended the conversation with the demon by bringing down both his battle axes down on it's skull. He would repeat this process until the hezrou showed no further signs of animation. And then several more to be sure. He briefly considers chopping the corpse into bits, but one of his enterprising allies would just sell the pieces for profit. When that task was done, he considered the axes in his hands before speaking up. "Surface first. Then those of us who want this fight can come back to it. I owe more to this group than I owe the entire duergar species. So I'll see anyone here as close to home as reasonable, or wherever direction that is for you. But I'm coming back. Can't let the whole Underdark go under, or the surface will be next. No Underdark, no surface, no people. Besides, I'd be unemployed, and no one wants to see me with extra time on my hands. I'd definitely get out of shape." He grinned and wiped the demon juices off onto the corpse to punctuate the joke. "How's that work for ya'll?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil didn't know whether his best chance for recovering his former form was to stay underground or head back to the surface. A thirst to go home battled with the shame of revealing his current form to anyone he knew. He decided he would journey towards the surface while he hunted and thought of anyone who could remove this curse, or whatever had changed him. He didn't voice this, but he did say "I will head for the surface as well. Then I will decide where I wish to go."

----------


## RandomWombat

*"I undersstand. I will get by and do asss I can,"* the trog cedes, lowering her head. *"Thank you again, for your aid."*

The final blows are dealt to the hezrou, causing its body to go still. There are no death throes as a mortal might experience, simply a cessation of function. Some parts of its body begin to lose their shape and melt away, but the bulky demon retains its form and materials better than its lesser 'kin', or the slime demons. Two tokens, the same kind that the slime demons produced, 'melt' out of its chest and slide down to the floor on a trail of demonic ichor. The terrible stench is no less nauseating in death, but mercifully begins to dissipate.

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

2x Soul Coins obtained


"Then I am afraid this is where we must part ways, companions," Buppido says. The derro speaks politely, but without any affectionate emotion in his voice. "Your efforts to sustain me will not be forgotten," he assures, turning on his heel and beginning to walk down the path towards Ghorlagh.

Once he's out of earshot, Topsy openly declares, "I'll sleep easier with him gone."

Sensing it will soon be time to leave, the party begins packing their things and preparing to set out. The dretch prisoner still remains, the sloth-like demon lying in the growing puddle of ichor around the dead hezrou.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

It was unfortunate to lose some of their fighting strength, but overall her preference was for the gnome twins rather than Buppido. Although occasionally cowardly, perhaps, but they hadn't yet broken ranks or fled, and they'd gone along with the demon investigation which meant direct fighting of demons. She at least trusted them not to slit her throat in the night, even if they might abandon her if the going got tough - she couldn't say the same about Buppido. She traces the last letter of her prepared spell with a glimmering finger and completes the incantation, sealing the glyph that appears beneath the unconscious dretch, incinerating it from below.

"Well then." With her hand freed of the spell she retrieves the maptube from her belt and tosses it to Borthan. A gesture of conciliation, given that he'd made the decision to stay instead of helping the Duergar. "Lead on." While he consults the map, she sets about purging the rest of the corpses - demon and otherwise - with flame, lest they be raised against them in the future. She hasn't forgotten the drow zombies.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Create Bonfiring the bodies. Added the 2x Soul Coin to the loot sheet. If any more appear, she'll take the time to grab those too.

----------


## RandomWombat

One by one, the bodies are reduced to smouldering piles upon the once-cold stone. Oily smoke fills the air, forcing those who desire to breathe freely to move away from the crossroads itself until the smoke gradually dissipates into the many slivers and holes leading up into higher places unknown.

The map case now in Borthan's hands contains two maps, as he expected. The first is a false map, designed to lead the reader astray. Contained in the lining of the tube is the true map. Upon it are marked several towns and cities, and a few places of interest. Most importantly, it details the currently in-use path to the surface. The map indicates several points within the Wormwrithings which can be used to access the surface, as well as a secret duergar route that bypasses Blingdenstone - through which one would normally reach the Wormwrithings by following the main tunnels.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Map in roll20 updated and brought up for perusal.


*Spoiler: History or Nature: Wormwrithings*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 1*
Show

That sounds pretty gross, are you sure you want to go there?


*Spoiler: DC 8*
Show

A section of the Underdark where Purple Worms gather during their mating season to procreate. During that season, the caverns and tunnels change dramatically, forcing it to be remapped every year. Old routes are closed off, and new routes open up.


*Spoiler: DC 12, History Only*
Show

The worms often visit the surface to hunt, creating pathways to the surface within the 'writhings. These caverns are frequently populated by northern orc, goblin and kobold tribes, making finding and maintaining a safe route to the surface a competition with those groups. The routes marked upon the duergar map may be guarded by the duergar, or otherwise hidden in some way, to avoid ambush and interference from the locals.


*Spoiler: DC 16, Nature Only*
Show

The next mating season for the Purple Worms will begin in roughly 60 days. Once it hits, travel within the 'writhings will be nearly impossible and forbiddingly dangerous. After it passes in another 30 days or so and the worms disperse, these mapped routes will be worthless.



Covering her mouth and rasping a small cough, Skriss approaches Borthan as the crew prepares to leave. She takes out a small wand made from slate-blue zurkhwood, polished to a fine finish. At its tip is a tiny sliver of obsidian. Holding it out in the palms of her hands, she offers it up. *"Sssince we may not meet again, let thiss be repayment for your aid. It grantsss vigor to the usser."*

*Spoiler: Wand*
Show

Borthan receives a Minor Wand of False Life. It holds up to 2 charges, and regains 1 charge per day. If the last charge is expended, it has a 50% chance to break.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
0 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan doesn't even bother looking at the map inside the tube. He'd seen fictions meant to get the unaware reader killed enough to know it would be useless. He uses a knife to open the secret compartment in a smooth and practiced motion before unfolding the true map on the ground for all to see. "Everyone should take a look at this. Get lost in the Dark and your last look at a map might be your best chance."

Borthan accepts the wand, asking for instructions and learning the use of the item. It takes him longer than most to fully grasp the use of the item, but he is twice as thorough in practice to compensate. Once that is done, he thanks the troglodyte for the gift and wishes her well on her mission. "None of ya'll get killed. I'll be on my way back soon as can be."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl peers at the map, taking it in for what it was - they clearly didn't want to continue the way they were going, since that would put them back on the path with the rampaging demons. "So..." She trails a delicate finger along the intended route as she speaks. "Back to the intersection we were at before, then north to the Kua-Toa settlement, ship across the lake to...Stilwater? And then on foot again to Wormwrithings to find our exit?" She phrases it as a question - Blingdenstone also seemed to be an option, after all, and she wasn't going to state one way or the other. Either path was easy to say, but in practice it represented...significant travel distance, not to mention potential complications on the way. Regardless of the path they chose though, they now had a concrete goal and a visible path to it, albeit one fraught with danger and risk.

She looks to Borthan first, but also the others. "Anyone got a guess on how long it will take? If we're going the full distance we might need to pick up supplies along the way, so it's better if we plan ahead."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Logic was no use for this group. It was all about trust, about power and influence with them. Defeated, and honestly just a bit confused about the weird routing on the map, Nilvae sighs: Sure, whatever. Lead the way. She beckons her pet spider.

Ey, Alonsius! You like to stay in control of this form, right? Then see to it that we are not ambushed from weird angles. hoping her pet skitters forth. She goes over to her pet fey scrounging for eyeballs and pulls it over at its ear. Same for you, mister. Scout duty until otherwise noted. You take your commands from Bort. 

*Ow, OW, not the ears, lady!* It plucks a fresh eye from its necklace. *So you want me to keep an eye out? Hehehe.*

----------


## RandomWombat

*"Worm-writhings,"* to the surprise of some, perhaps, it's Ront who first speaks up on the subject. He walks over and peers at the map, squinting his eyes. He doesn't look like he can ready it very well, but he seems to recognize the name. *"My tribe there sometimes. Caves made by the purple worms. We nomadic. Have to move in worm mating season."*

With everything gathered, the group sets out back the way they came, towards the duergar checkpoint. It's a familiar route, letting them safely discuss things while they walk. With Eyegore scouting ahead and Mr. Spide lurking at the fringes keeping watch, they have constant eyes to both directions. 

"Mbblm, do you know bwhen dis mading season is?" Shuushar gurgles, bringing up close to the rear. 

Ront grunts, *"Little over two moon turns before I fall. Maybe two now."*

"Right, anybody know how to track days or months down here? Moon cycles?" Topsy speaks up. "Anyways, I would rather go through Blingdenstone. My brother and I were on our way to meet someone when we were snatched up. There's some business we need to wrap up, and I can make it worth your whiles if that helps."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

A time limit complicated things in some ways, simplified them in others. It's not as if she had any real grasp of the distance between them and their destination(s), nor the time it might take to reach. It could be a week, could be three months, and time tracking wasn't exactly easy in the Underdark for travelers on the road. The fishmen would probably know better. "Either way we're heading to the Kua-Toa first. We might be at the mercy of whatever destination the ships already have." Still too many unknowns for sure. "But we can keep both options on the table. It doesn't hurt to have alternatives if we're held up." She didn't much care for or need 'rewards' on offer, unless they were a way out of the Underdark. Anything she needs on the surface she feels she can get once she's there - gold, lodgings, security. She was smart and powerful enough to acquire them (legitimately, even). All she needs is to get out.

----------


## RandomWombat

*That 'Night'*

With naught else to say, the group carries on walking. It's begun to feel as though they'd been walking forever, prompting a stop at the duergar checkpoint to rest. While the interior is still defiled with demonic ichor and dead dwarves, the checkpoint itself still offers a gate that closes and locks on one side of them, allowing some security and peace of mind.

Whether it is truly night or not, the long day of walking and fighting has left everyone more than ready to sleep. The crew's companions choose to remain in the tunnel itself rather than deal with the awful stench, the gnome twins volunteering to take first watch. The tunnel they had already just passed through proves to be scarce on anything worth eating, and they have to make do on scraps and leftovers, going to bed with rumbling bellies. Moss scraped from cave walls and the occasional lizard can only be stretched so far before one starts to feel it.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Long Rest achieved!

Anything you wish to do or discuss during a long rest, feel free to run alongside as we carry on.


*The Next 'Day'*

Once more on their feet, a return to the infested crossroads soon welcomes them. The slime still coats the walls and floor, and patches hang from the ceiling, where it has not been dried up or burned away by their previous efforts. But no demons, slime or otherwise, hamper them as they pass through. Over the bridge, they arrive on the other bank of the thin, powerful stream flowing below them.

*Spoiler: Perception DC 22*
Show

Lurking in the shadows of the crossroads, perched among the rocks that overlook the river and hidden among pieces of abandoned scaffolding, the silhouette of a drow man can just barely be made out.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

With the full recovery and the start of a new 'day' Faedryl feels more self-assured once more. Her full magical powers were returned, and she was once again ready for battle. With her drow eyes and armour, she takes a position near the front of the group - her spells worked just as well whether she cast them against those five or fifty feet away, so she may as well stand in the path of those who weren't as well armoured. Peering around the not-quite cleared crossroads, she grimaces at the slime that still remains. It would take too long to clear everything, and if they received nothing but lost time as recompense then it wasn't "their" problem. Still, she can't deny being quietly frustrated.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Neither Faedryl nor Sarith hit the perception mark.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
2 of 3 d10 HD.

*Night?*
Borthan takes the middle watch, trusting in sleep to numb his grumbling belly. This was not the first night he'd gone hungry, but it was the first time in a while. Since the cell, at least. Hunger was like an ol' friend, coming to visit. He smiled a bit despite the gnawing pain and got his rest.

*Day?*
As they entered the cross roads, Borthan's eye's flicked around. He did not intend to be caught unaware in the puddle filled hell hole again. "Up there, by those rocks. Drow male. Can't tell if he's armed, but it's a safe bet."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

*Day?*
"Where? I don't see anyone."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Dancing Lights

Faedryl hadn't seen anything, but it wouldn't hurt to humour Borthan's concern. It cost her nothing to verify after all. She traces a magic circle in front of her, careful not to look in the direction as best she could. Then she adds the words for _Light. Play. Persist._ before sealing the spell with a snap of her fingers. Four shining torches, each a small distance apart from one another, spring into life and light around the rocks Borthan had indicated, seeking to illuminate any would-be hiding drow - or other onlookers that there might be.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Cast _Dancing Lights_, torches spread 10' apart from each other to light up as much as possible.

----------


## RandomWombat

Borthan's keen eyes pierce through the darkness to make out their lurking observer. With a swift invocation of her innate magic, Faedryl creates a series of shining lights surrounding the old scaffolding Borthan indicated, illuminating a surprised drow man squatting there. Upon being spotted, he swiftly takes initiative and leaps down from the scaffolding to the cave's lower crossing. Swiveling on his feet, he begins to sprint away.

*Spoiler: Initiative DC 20*
Show

Anyone who exceeds this Initiative can act before the drow scout begins fleeing. The rest will act after his turn.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae rises somewhat altered by the previous days from her slumber. Puck did something - again. And she was different - again. She sighed. Sitting next to Borthan, but only because Faedryl wanted a bit of freedom, she jolted awake from her half-awake state. Where is the villain? I assume he is caught in a jelly cube! she shouts. Her words carry magical persuasiveness, and hit the ear of the invader and scout.

*Spoiler*
Show

(1d6)[*4*] psychic damage, and the target imagines being engulfed by an ooze. Rule as you want, but I assume loosing the int save means being stuck or slowed, and the "acid" deals its psychic damage.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
1 of 3 d10 HD.

Moving faster than his own mind, Borthan sprints after the fleeing drow and unleashes a torrent of hurled blades at his back, aiming for the legs in an attempt to slow or trip him.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Dread Ambusher bonus attack- (1d20+5)[*11*] to hit with a hand axe, (1d6+3)[*6*] damage plus (1d8)[*1*]. Regular attack- (1d20+5)[*19*] with another hand axe, this one at -1 damage from damnable slimes (1d6+2)[*7*]. Bonus action dagger throw- (1d20+5)[*10*] to hit and (1d4+3)[*5*] damage. (1d6)[*6*] if a hand axe crits, (1d4)[*4*] if dagger crits.

----------


## RandomWombat

The spell begins to form around the drow, and he feels the gelatinous mass begin to slow him down. But he reacts with keen attention, flicking his eyes to his bowstring and focusing upon it. The string does not burn and snap in the acid. The mental clarity allows him to disbelieve the illusion and begin is sprint for safety. One of Borthan's axes clips him as he runs, but the drow picks up alarming speed across the dried slime coating the ground. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae casts Phantasmal Force, but the drow manages against odds to pass his save.
Borthan hits with one of his handaxes, dealing *7* damage.

Drow Scout Double Dashes to put in distance.

The party is up to act again, and see if they can catch him.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: Dancing Lights

They - _she_ - had been slow off the mark, and now he was running. Not this time. "Sarith!" She calls as she rushes forward, pushing him with her mind and will as she moves to keep up. Between the two of them they could close the distance eventually, but how long before he reached others? If he was a solo scout there might be more. They had to take him out as quickly as possible.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Faedryl Cart: Double Dash.
*Bonus Action:* TK Shove Sarith 5' fowards so he's got a shot.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

The telekinetic push comes as a mild surprise but he lets it happen, allowing the momentum to spur him faster into a run. His crossbow is already loaded, a thick bolt ready to go. He was confident in his speed, even with the weight of the bulky weapon. He rounds the corner and snap aims at the retreating drow's back. Perhaps once he might have hesitated. He was abandoned by society for killing a drow, after all. But...his fingers pull the trigger, loosing the projectile from him. 



*Spoiler*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Dash.
*Move:* Forward.
*Action:* (1d20+8)[*22*](1d10+4)[*10*]

No Sneak Attack :(

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil  rushes forward to see what the commotion is before realizing he'd best run backwards to catch sight of the target.




*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
1 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan slows to a trot to scoop up his thrown weapons and watched to drow go. Then he continued moving forward, now at a fast jog, not trying to keep pace with the drow but moving in the same direction.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Movement from Derendil and Bort. Bort dash actioned, but moved at half speed for the first 30 to also pick up his weapons. Derendil does a circle because he has not LOS to the drow.

----------


## RandomWombat

Borthan leaps down to the level below, pursuing the scout as he flees, but by the time he's caught up to the scout's last location the quarry has already hurled himself up the ladder. It is Sarith, propelled forward by Faedryl's shove, that finds a clear shot first. He raises his crossbow and with keen accuracy spears a bolt through the fleeing drow's back. The dark elf goes down, landing in a heap on the floor. A puddle of blood rapidly forms beneath him, death only staved off by the bolt occupying the space it punched through and preventing catastrophic bleeding. He will not last long without medical attention.

"That's probably one of Ilvara's goons. We should get out of here in case more aren't far behind," Topsy looks across the bridge, drawing the slingshot from her belt and getting a stone ready. "If we want to interrogate him, let's get the big orc to haul him out of here first. This crossroad is too exposed."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

"Interrogation would take too long." Faedryl notes. She doubts they'd have much of note to tell them anyway. "We should dispose of the body to avoid any more undead, and then move along, putting as much space between us and them as possible." While the others debate the merits of executing an injured person who was now their prisoner and would likely be killed regardless, she takes the time to look around, seeking any chokepoint she could use her wand on. If she simply modified the path to put five - or even fifteen, if they found an exceedingly narrow chokepoint - feet of stone in the drow's path, they would be severely hindered unless they too had magic to deploy.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae shrugs as Eyegore flies up and gouges out his eyes finally. Eyes, tasty delicious fresh eyes. He "cleans" them by sucking them in his mouth, then adds them to his gruesome necklace. 




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: - 

Stool starts to approach the drow and tries a bit. Too fresh for Stool. Need to foul for a bit. he finally goes, a sad hum in his psychic notice showing the myconid was genuinely sad.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
1 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan makes sure the job is finished, drawing his knife against the drow's throat in a stroke of finality. Then he pats down the dead drow's body when Eyegorr is done with it, looking for anything significant on his person or in his pockets and bags. Besides the eyes. Which only seemed to be important to Eyegore and the now deceased drow. "What do we do with his body? Don't seem like there are any quick and easy answers short of dismemberment, and then we'll probably just get a ghost that's pissed at us. Wouldn't be my first. Wailin' on and on about "Vennnngeeeaaannnceee! like they didn't bring it on them own stupid selves."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil notably looks away when the fey does it's work, sticking his tongue out in distaste. "Faedryl, perhaps some time on one of your bonfires would purge the corpse. Maybe a few words from Shushar to keep his spirit at rest?"

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: --

She balks a bit at the live extraction of eyes by Nilvae's disgusting beast. Such actions were painfully reminiscent of drow 'procedures', and that Nilvae seemed to not care about it was a concern. How long before the wretched creature came for her in the night? Not that Faedryl would be caught unawares, but she can't say the same for the rest of the group. To Derendil's suggestion though she agrees. Once Borthan has stripped the body of any items of note, she quietly draws up the symbol for her flames, calling them from beneath the body to incinerate it all. The stench was as it always was - the perverse mix of stomach-rumbling fat cooking with the knowledge that this was a man, not a meal.

----------


## RandomWombat

As his eyes are torn out, the drow man flinches and tries to pull away half-consciously even in his near-death state. Unable to do anything, he can only whimper through the ordeal.

About to open up his mouth to speak, Shuushar is stunned speechless. The kuo-toa chokes up and, for once, looks on the verge of anger. "Why bwould you allow that?" he demands of Nilvae, clutching his spear tightly - not out of any hostile intent, but to keep himself steady using it as a support. After Borthan puts the drow out of his misery, Shuu goes over to the drow's body, laying a piece of cloth over the man's bleeding eye sockets.

"You do nodt know who dhis mamn was. Whadt was done do him to make him obey, if he coulbd be turned from his path. Sudge crueldy is uncalled for." The fish-man bows his head in a moment of quiet prayer over the body, then stands and steps away for Faedryl to carry out the pyre.

The others are squeamish at the sight, but less bothered. Topsy glances at her brother, who looks slightly ill. "Could have at least put him down _before_ letting the fairy do its thing, but it's not like we were letting him live regardless. We don't have time to 'turn' anyone right now."

Shuushar does not answer her rationalizations, simply walking back into his position in the column.

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

Borthan finds on the drow:
-Lizard jerky (Chef Feat food granting 2 temp hp when eaten)
-Longbow
-Shortsword
-2 doses of Drow Poison
-Leather Armor
-Unidentified Potion


The group moves on, leaving the crossroads behind. The tunnel leading north is about ten feet across, and only five feet high, forcing many of them to hunch over. Ront has the worst of it due to his considerable size; Derendil is spared any back pain only because is body is able to walk comfortably on two legs or on all fours.

Offshoot passages are more common here, twisting in other directions. More than once the navigators need to direct the group around holes in the ground. Some are patched with boards for safety, while others have had the boards removed and the hole covered by a thin cloth the color of stone - a cruel trap or jape to send travelers plummeting to whatever awaits below. Thanks to the two maps they possess, they are able to avoid being turned off of the established route to Sloobludop.

On the second day of their journey, the passage becomes brighter, filled with an ambient light that hums in the air, tickling their skin like the crawling of thousands of buzzing fruit flies. Faerzress. Those among them with a strong enough connection to the Weave can feel a deep unease, a pit forming in their stomach as they pass through. A terrible headache assaults Faedryl in particular. 

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

This migraine is brutal, like her skull is trying to split in two. Auras dance, painful colors staining her vision. Sometimes she thinks she can see creeping cracks forming in the stone, as if the entire corridor is going to fall away like shattered glass into that terrible dark void from her prison nightmare, only for them to be gone when she blinks. Her skin feels clammy and cold.

Faedryl faces a DC 10 Sanity check to keep herself together, and a DC 10 Con save to avoid vomiting and taking 2d6 psychic damage from the headache's physical symptoms.


According to the map, they are coming up upon a crossroads soon. They could take a shorter route marked as the 'Silken Paths' or go around, taking them over to the main road between Sloobludop and Menzoberranzan.

*Spoiler: History: Silken Paths*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

This is a term for a vast cavernous area. There are massive pillars of stone connected by huge spiderwebs, and the entire place is a hotspot of giant spider activity. Traversing it is difficult for those without the means to cross the webs, such as duergar kavalrachni (spider riders).


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

Rumors say that guides have taken up business at the Silken Paths, offering travelers aid in crossing them for a price.


*Spoiler: DC 18*
Show

Far beneath the canopies of webbing is the 'bottom floor' of the cavern, where it is said an ancient Netheril tomb plummeted from the sky and into a ravine. Adventurers sometimes descend seeking magical treasure, only to plummet themselves in the descent, be preyed upon by the spiders that call the cavern home, or disappear - perhaps consumed by the tomb itself. A few return alive, having failed to claim its bounty.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

*On the Path*
When they finally come to a choke point - one that they can use to block the paths of any drow pursuers, Faedryl puts the duergar's wand to use. With a few flicks she pulls thick rock into place to block their passage, doing what she can to make it look 'natural'. A keen eye would probably spot that it wasn't - and the passage leading up to a dead end on its own would be suspicious, but what had cost her ten seconds of effort would take a team of properly equipped miners a day to dig through, and that was a trade she considered well worth making. 

*Damnable Lights*

She was blinking at first. Her skin tingled. Burned. Then the lights seemed to get brighter, hotter. Her arms come to wrap around her stomach. She could feel the magic twisting it into knots as her head thrummed with pain. No one did anything. Her fingers clawed at her armoured belly. A pointless gesture, it would do nothing. Intellectually she knew this, but she couldn't stop the motion, like a child clawing for its mother. No one did anything. She couldn't see now, her entire brain was aflame and her footing shifts, her pace slows. No one did anything. They watched. They'd all just watch. Made sense. Whatever 'familiarity' this group might have for one another, they were each out for themselves. So she should be too. The moment she had an exit to the surface she'd abandon the lot of them to whatever fates they wished.

By the time they were finally through the worst of it, she was ready to curse every god under sun and sky for that pain. It had clearly been magical of some sort, but the blinding light and throbbing migraines gave her momentary pause about living on the surface. She might have to adopt a nocturnal lifestyle if _that_ was how the sun fared for her kind.

"The Silken Paths are an option," Faedryl voices, her voice strained from the pain still. "Though we'd likely need to hire a guide. Otherwise we should head for the main road, aim to use it for swift travel, even if it's more open."




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Use two charges of _Stoneshaper_ to block the passage behind the group when we get to the 5' tall, 10' wide tunnel described. Will be at 2/3 charges for day two.

Rolls from Discord:
Sanity Save: Failed
Con save: Succeeded, so no vomiting or damage.
Panic Roll: 3 (Selfish - The character may not take actions that grant another creature a positive effect or restore hit points to another creature, if that resource could be spent to the characters benefit instead.)
Madness Roll: 97 (No Madness)
History: 16

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae shrugs the question off with a shrug of her own. Wasn't aware he wasn't dead yet. Maybe it is this environment speaking, but many beasts would eat the eyes first-hand. Most nutritious part, also the part that spoils the easiest. Besides, there are probably worse items in any wizard's component pouch. Nilvae was of course lying, she was not imagining humanoid parts in a spell pouch, and her stomach turned as well as the others.

If you wish, I keep him on a tighter 'leash'. Nilvae griped the air, and a spectral chain glowing a faint green was visible between her left arm and the creature's neck. One yank and the fey knew instantly, who was boss. *Unfair, unfair! You kill one deer, and the lord of the forest gets pissed. Not like there are no hunters in his forest either.* Nilvae smiles evilly. You know well, those hunters came searching for me, and our master turned them into shrubbery.



If I understood correctly, there are no guides in the area anymore. Now if only we had someone who could negotiate a passage with spiders... the warlock says innocently. To reiterate her point, her spider-donkey chitters with its fangs. If we can hunt for a bit of fresh bait, alive would be best, I am sure we can get past the spiders.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
1 of 3 d10 HD.

*On the Path*

As they were traveling, Borthan would move close to Nilvae, stomping his boots to let her know he was invisibly approaching. Keep the fey under control. He can do his business after we kill a foe. Ain't no need for what he did. It disturbs some of us, and gives some of us a grim reminder that we ain't disturbed by violence no more. Please." He would then give Nilvae some space to consider his words, moving to the front to scout again.

*Faedryl's Attack*

Borthan watches with interest as Faedryl struggles with something internally. When she seemed to recover, he spoke softly. Not my section of the underdark, otherwise I'd be a fine guide. If it twer my choice I'd say take the road. More open, but also more travelled. Easier to get ahead of our pursuers after they find that rock wall Faedryl was smart enough to leave behind us."

----------


## RandomWombat

None of the crew's companions see reason to voice dissent, for speed now will place them far removed from pursuers - and all the more likely their trail shall disappear altogether. Come the branch in question, Borthan guides them to the right, proceeding towards the main road between Sloobludop and drow territory.

Beyond a threshold, the passageway opens up, leading to the crossroads. There is, however, a new obstruction in their way. A checkpoint not on the map has been erected here, with folding portable wooden barricades assembled. They are painted black, and covered on the outside with vicious barbed spikes. Two posts hold lit shaded lanterns which make it impossible for someone like Borthan to draw near, while not stinging drow eyes with their brightness. At the center is a foldable wooden 'door' which does not look hard to bust open, but would leave the buster open to stabbing by spears and other sharp implements while doing so. Assuming there was anyone to man the barricade.

There is not. Beyond the barricade is an empty encampment, with three simple tents made out of giant spider silk and bearing Menzoberranzan's iconography. A temporary checkpoint, possibly set up for the crew themselves. And it is entirely empty save for bloodstains splattered across the stone and a single drow corpse. Bloody marks show two bodies having been dragged north towards drow territory.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

If her head throbbed less she might have clapped with joy at the sight of the unmanned checkpoint - an obstacle they did not have to overcome, and a checkpoint that was their's to pick clean of supplies. What had happened to the occupants? The drow that had perhaps been in wait for them? She finds she does not care in this moment. Such thoughts are too far ahead for her to consider beyond the moment. The effect of whatever had plagued her mind and insides earlier remains, and it pushes her into the moment rather than the future. "We should see what we can find." She mutters, almost stumbling on the 'we'. If they even bothered to help...

She takes care of the lights first, calling up her mage hand to retrieve and cover them to block their light away. They were too visible otherwise, and at least this way they wouldn't have to worry about being spotted beyond Faedryl's own vision. She gestures for Sarith to investigate the tents, and leaves the body to the others. No sense in getting _her_ hands dirty, after all.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Faedryl's approach was a command in and of itself. Nilvae had no military training, nor was she following orders directly, but her newly found adventuring paranoia herded her towards cooperating with the more experienced members of the crew. In lieu of a command of one of the others, she beckoned her familiar to her to tell it to scout ahead. No eye-gouging just yet. she adds, and if Eyegore understood, his disappointment didn't show. The lampblighter flew ahead.

Meanwhile Nilvae kneeled down scratching a crude summoning circle into the dirt. Any knowledgable onlooker knew she was to call a familiar. Yet without the necessary incense and materials, the binding was but temporary. Sickly green flits of color swirled around her for a minute while the warlock was humming along an almost harmonic tune. Two creatures slowly coalesced their forms inside the circle, entirely made up from green particles. At the end of the spell they would assume the forms of a bat and an Tressym, a yellow-eyed striped cat with draconic wings. She would command them to follow Eyegore.

*Spoiler*
Show

Summoning a Tressym from Storm King's Thunder: https://www.gmbinder.com/share/-LSGd7ACEznArBZIcdgC and a bat from the PHB. Notably, a Tressym can see invisibility constantly within 60 ft, as well as poisons. If said abilities are too powerful, I would like you to nerf its form.
A bat has blindsight.
Perception in order: Nilvae, Eyegore, Tressym, Bat. (4d20)[*11*][*9*][*4*][*12*](36) (+2, +3, +5, +1)
Advantage rolls for Tressym (smell) and Bat (hearing) where applicable (2d20)[*20*][*17*](37)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
1 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan would quickly slide up next to the corpse, invisible again when Faedryl hid the lights. He wanted to know what killed the drow in case it came back.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Survival to read the scene (1d20+4)[*10*].

----------


## RandomWombat

With the lights snuffed, the crew proceeds under cover of darkness. Ront not so subtly tears the portable barricade's gate open by pressing through with his weight. And like any successful drow leader, Faedryl delegates, sending Sarith in first to do the dirty work. He steps into the nearest tent, the gnomes setting about investigating the other two.

The tent Sarith enters contains little more than five cramped bedrolls, scrunched together. A quarters for the rank and file. The bedrolls themselves are of good quality, soft and made from giant spider silk. They would make resting in the caverns a touch more comfortable, or sell for a decent amount.

*Spoiler: Sarith Perception*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

The bedrolls are not disturbed by someone getting up quickly or suddenly to respond to an attack, nor by someone seeking cover inside the tent during a fight. They are neatly folded and tucked.


*Spoiler: DC 18*
Show

The cloth back 'wall' of the tent does not ripple with the wind current from his movements.



Scrawling a summoning circle, Nilvae calls forth a pair of familiars, the fey spirits taking form. Her tressym prances around, sniffing at the air, while the bat screes and squeaks, gaining its bearing. Mr. Spide lingers beside her, eyeing the two morsels hungrily, but restrains from indulging in a snack just yet...

As they scout, the two familiars relay back a basic understanding of their findings to Nilvae.

*Spoiler: Tressym*
Show

The blood trail does not smell fresh. The blood has been dried for some time, and smells of rot.


*Spoiler: Bat*
Show

Two of the walls near those lingering outside (marked in red on the map) feel like they have small openings in them, barely large enough for a tarantula to crawl through. But to Nilvae's eyes, even with a bit of light to see by, the stone walls are completely solid.


Flying ahead alongside Borthan, Eyegore flits around the corpse, its eyes oh so tempting. 

*Spoiler: Borthan Survival*
Show

This man has been dead for some time. The body is cold, his flesh already partially decomposed and fed upon by maggots. Cause of death appears to be a slit throat.


Topsy leans out of the southwest tent to inform Borthan, "This looks like the commander's tent." Past her, he can see a fancier cot set up inside, large enough for two. A second, smaller cot is also set up, and a small locked footlocker rests in the corner.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae nods as her fey scouts returning update her. So there's tiny holes in the wall, probably made for some defenders to shoot at someone. And the corpses were likely slain before the demons erupted down here. I assume this is someone else's doing, I wouldn't bet on drow, but at least your dearest sister should not be involved to ambush you, Faedryl.

The half-elf concludes by sending out her spy into the westernmost hole while she beckons Stool.




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: - 

The tiny myconid kept silent, but not was called to the side of the pretty lady. He nods and expunges his communicative spores. Stool should check hole? Stool would see it? I will transform into small flying thing. The shroom shrinks and morphs into an insect, warping until it has the size and form of a roach. Instead of thinking about it as a metaphor for worth, the ever-practical Stool climbs into the eastern-most arrow slit.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

"All the luckier." Faedryl says absently as she continues to rummage around the site and seek out anything of interest. "I have six sisters." Her mother had thankfully stopped at seven daughters, alongside their four brothers. If she killed just one then there'd be only single digit Melad heirs remaining - for she wasn't truly one of them anymore. Coming up thin on items apparently she moves the next object of attention - the corpse. If it had anything to tell her she didn't much care beyond how fast they needed to move and in what direction. Fighting wasn't her - or anyone's - goal. Leaving was. She'd also take the time to lift anything of value from the body. It had been left here, but whatever had slaughtered the outpost hadn't ransacked it by its appearance - they should still have something of use. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


(1d20)[*9*] Medicine.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Sarith proceeds forward on naturally quiet footsteps, heavy crossbow nevertheless loaded and at the ready should anything jump him. *"They weren't resting when they were taken - or if they were they were taken so quickly that it disturbed not a single bedroll."* Sarith confirms. *"Not much could sneak up on a drow outpost in the Underdark. Less still could wipe it out so...cleanly."* It was concerning, but if they moved on swiftly they had a better chance of not being caught. Such ambushers ususally preferred a static prey, one drunk on their own confidence in camp defenses. Ones alert and on the move would be more prone to panic fighting or panic running - harder to pin down and make it as clean as they had here. When he follows Topsy to the 'command' tent he notes the footlocker and a hand instinctively moves to his belt...where there were no lockpicking tools. He was adept at their use but he had none to speak of. They might just have to smash the thing open, and risk damaging whatever was inside.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
2 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan nods to Faedryl as she approaches and begins searching the body. "I agree with Sarith. This is too precise. To clean. This one died of a slit throat. What kind of demon wouldn't savage the body or take a bite? This looks like a surgical strike, not an attack by ravenous monsters. We may want to move on fast. If I were good enough to wipe a drow check point off the face of the Dark with this much skill, the only reason I'd leave a single body behind is as bait. I'd be careful patting this rotter down if I were you, princess."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil did his best not to dwell on the horror that must have befallen this dark elven outpost. He took the time to ritual cast a magic detection spell while the others looted and searched.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 22/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

"Your concern is noted." Faedryl replies, with an ounce of sarcasm. Was he looking out for 'their' skins or just his own? She can take a guess. But she takes his point regardless, and instead of approaching the body herself uses her telekinetic Mage Hand to poke and pry at the body from a safe distance - by which she means any distance in which someone else is closer to it than she is. It's a little frustrating having to do fine tasks at range where it's difficult to see exactly what she's grabbing, but the safety it offers is worth the annoyance, if indeed Borthan was correct.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Noticing that one of the gnomes has tools that might suffice as lockpicks (even if they weren't the ideal), he moves to them with the chest in hand, and holds out a hand. *"I require your lockpicks to open the chest."* His drow charm was on full display. No 'please', no request, no comradery. A simple statement of what he wants. He supposed it didn't really matter if they didn't hand them over. It would be their choice to sacrifice the contents, either to the locks or being smashed. And it seemed Faedryl was in no mood to 'correct' or adjust his attitude at the moment. All the better. She shouldn't be focused on petty trifles like being friends. A leader needed to be above...that...He squinted his eyes unconsciously. She was his leader. The explicit mental acknowledgement of it was still surprising, and for a moment zones him out of whatever the gnome replied with, but he snaps back to reality quickly enough.

She'd made her goal clear: Escape to the surface. But outside of watching them all die did he have any goal? Any long term ambition? Or was he satisfied to follow Faedryl until she left the Underdark and then roll over and die, now absent even the glee of her failure? The surface was no place for a drow, certainly not one like him. But the Underdark was no place for him either anymore. Not in this realm or the next. 



*Spoiler*
Show


Assuming he does get the thieves tools from Topsy, (1d20+6)[*22*] to unlock the chest.

----------


## RandomWombat

Topsy peers up at Sarith with a twisted lip, taking out a piece of wire she'd fashioned into a makeshift lockpick. "I could do it. But I might as well live the drow high life and delegate the work to a male," she says snidely as he takes the bit of wire. His work is quick and precise, and the lock is not terribly complicated. In a few moments it gives a satisfying 'click'. But before he can do more than pop open the trunk, things begin to happen outside...

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

2 Unidentified Green Potions
A set of gold-lined silk lingerie which glimmers in the dark, marking it as clearly magical
A finely made zurkhwood flute
A coinpurse containing 2 platinum pieces, 20 gold pieces, and 12 silver pieces, all stamped with a spider that marks them as drow currency



When Faedryl backs away and jostles the corpse with Mage Hand, its hand grasps at the ground and its bloodshot eyes flash open, a moan coming from its stone-cold lips. The zombie begins to slowly stand up. A magical mouth, an eerily jarring out of place pair of fleshy grey lips, opens up upon the zombie's chain shirt. "Ahahahaha~!" a twinkling female laugh plays out in a pre-recorded magical message. "You've fallen for my intricately woven trap, dear sister! We've hidden ourselves in the walls from which to ambush you! Now witness as my undead-" the message fizzles and cuts out as the lips choke and then fade away. It seems they ran out of their allotted number of words.

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

It is the voice of Alaulure, the third daughter of the Melad sisters. She is a Lolthite huntress, and an infamous one at that - for her gross and consistent incompetence and waste of resources. Alaulure has a loose pair of lips that blab her plans and schemes to anyone who will hear, and she wastes her money on frivolous things... like a talking shirt specifically to taunt Faedryl. It is frankly astonishing that the matron mother has not successfully had her killed yet, a fact often attributed to a babau bodyguard she managed to bind without getting gutted. Or perhaps Lolth just finds her a fine comedy channel.

Alaulure has a young (for an elf) daughter named Alaufaen, who she has taken as her apprentice.


From the northeast, Nilvae's winged cat hisses and arches its back - the gate swings open and two more shambling zombies carrying shortswords stumble their way into the campsite. Their clothes are stained with dried blood from broad wounds across their chests, the exposed flesh scraped and torn as if dragged across the stone floor.


Stool transfigures himself into a tiny roach, slipping through the hidden cracks. As soon as he touches them they become translucent, and he can see a foggy shape as he emerges on the other side - a drow warrior standing with his hand crossbow trained at Nilvae through a different arrow slot! He starts upon seeing the cockroach poking through and reaches for his blade, but Stool is too quick and the drow's pommel impacts the wall instead.

Her summoned bat meets a similar foe as it sticks its head through the minor illusion of a solid wall that conceals the arrow slots, unable to fit fully through. The bat's echolocation can feel more individuals deeper into the hidden alcove, and it avoids having its tiny head caved in by a sword pommel when the drow comes in swinging.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Drow Warrior A gets a surprise attack on Bat, but misses.
Drow Warrior B misses Stool with his surprise attack as well.
Drow Zombie A is still Prone, and has not completed the act of standing yet.

Borthan is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Spore and Amnestic can choose whether to use their lump or split Initiatives. I assume PPP would want the latter as usual?

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21

*Stool* - 14

Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11
Drow Zombies - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5
*Nilvae/Familiars* - 9
Topsy - 9

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

*Sarith* - 8
Turvy - 8
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
*Faedryl* - 7
Jimjar - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront[ - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
2 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan steps forward before the zombie is even done speaking and begins hacking at it. "Called it." Then his nostrils flare, his pupils dilate, and he growls through clenched teeth.

*Spoiler: Dwarvish*
Show

*PREY!*




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Bonus action to cast Hunter's Mark. Bonus attack from Dread Ambusher- (1d20+5)[*9*] to hit ((1d20+5)[*17*] if Bort gets advantage from prone) with an axe, and (1d8+3)[*7*] damage, plus (1d8)[*7*] ambusher damage, plus (1d6)[*2*] from hunter's mark. Second attack- (1d20+5)[*22*] to hit ((1d20+5)[*12*] if advantage) and (1d8+3)[*9*] damage, plus (1d6)[*4*] Hunter's Mark. EDIT- If Bort kills the zombie he will move his mark to the nearest threat and use his 35 foot remaining move speed to advance towards the new target.

----------


## RandomWombat

With both of his axes, Borthan surges forward before the bait undead can get up, delivering a scissored cut with perfect timing to send its head tumbling across the campsite. By the time it rolls into the corner he's already closing the distance with the other two, meeting them atop the bloodstains before they reach Nilvae's cat.

The curtain of the tent Sarith initially investigated is flung open. A drow agent in fine armor swings up one arm to fire his hand crossbow at Faedryl, a shortsword in his other hand. Despite the element of surprise his bolt flies wide, sailing through the fabric of the tent where Sarith now stands with the gnome twins. It clatters over the ground, poison dripping from its length onto the stone.

On Faedryl's other side, the familiar face of her sister appears. Clad in a breastplate that's emblazoned with the spider of Lolth (and, in lieu of being skimpy, rather inappropriately shaped), she carries a rapier in one hand dripping with caustic ooze and a hand crossbow in the other. "It's all over, sister! If you be good and surrender now I'll make sure you get a good last mea- hey!" she takes the time to gloat personally before firing, wasting her element of surprise long enough for Faedryl to duck out of the way of her telegraphed shot, sparking a shrill shout from Alaulure. 


Weapon clattering against the stone again as he swings at the transformed cockroach, the drow in the eastern bunker drops his crossbow and flicks out a dagger, this time stabbing it through Stool's tiny body. The little mushroom growing back to full size knocks his elven opponent back, forcing him to make room.

The other drow is less occupied, turning his attention away from the peeking bat and leveling his crossbow at Nilvae. With a snap of its mechanical bowstring, she feels a numb piercing sensation and dizziness before the world fades to dark.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan cuts up Drow Zombie A for *16* and then *13* damage, slaying it.

Drow Elite misses Faedryl despite Hidden Adv.
Alaulure reveals herself, wasting Hidden, and misses Faedryl with her own shot.
Drow Warrior A shoots Nilvae for *7* damage, and she fails her save hard against the Drow Poison, passing out. Her Flock fades with Concentration dropping.
Drow Warrior B misses Stoolroach with a sword attack, then hits with a dagger for *4*, spawning Stool back to normal.

Derendil is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11
Drow Zombies - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5
Topsy - 9

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront[ - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil moved quickly shouldering his way between the drow who fired from hiding and lifting his shield. "Your fight is with me, you foul night creature." He looks back over his shoulder at Faedryl and says "No offense, of course." Than he raked at the elite with his claws with an awkward blow.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*17*] to hit, (1d6+3)[*9*] damage. Ready a reaction to cast shield if Derendil is going to be hit.

----------


## RandomWombat

Coming up from the drow's blindspot, it seems like Derendil is about to catch him with his guard down without his shield ready. But the elite warrior doesn't miss a beat. Confidently shifting his stance, he slaps the quaggoth's claw aside with the flat of his blade. "A slave is not worth my time," he derides Derendil in an exquisitely mocking flourish of elvish.


From the direction of the wall to Borthan's left, an arrow flies out of the solid stone as if from nowhere, slashing past an opening in his armor. The two zombies march forward, neither knowing nor caring about their overwatch, and the wound shakes Borthan's guard enough that they can land a few strikes that bruise, but do not break his armor.


A second arrow sails through the tent fabric and past the commander's bed, sticking into the silk on the opposite side. Around the back of the tent, a small dark figure slips behind Shuushar at the rear of the group. Shuushar gurgles out a surprised noise as he's struck from behind by a blunt crack in the back of his head. As he spins around to face his attacker, a sheet of ice can be seen forming on the impact point.

"Brb-b, you're jubst a child," he can be heard exclaiming before grunting as a second blow from the drow girl's paired tonfas strikes him in the gut and nearly sends him to the ground.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil takes a swing at the Drow Elite, deflected by the drow's Parry reaction ability.

Drow Scout A shoots Borthan from a hidden position for *11* damage sneak attack. I've marked the wall on the map with a blue square.
Drow Scout B fires blindly through the command tent fabric, but guesses the location incorrectly.
Alaufaen sneak attacks Shuushar for *14* damage, then another *5* with her offhand, leaving him badly hurt.
Zombies B and C hit Borthan for *3* and *4* damage, respectively.

Nilvae and Stool are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11
Drow Zombies - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5
Topsy - 9

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront[ - 4

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Eyegore does the only thing he can. Covering his mistress' behind. He did not like Nilvae very much but he knew her death would mean returning to Puck, so he summons an orb of darkness again.




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP) 
Concentration: Shillelagh 

Up in the alcoves, Stool's tiny drawn club engorges. He draws his pot lid and swings.

*Spoiler*
Show

(1d20+5)[*12*]
(1d8+3)[*11*]

----------


## RandomWombat

As Nilvae lay under the effects of the drow poison, her sluggish body unable to move, a veil of unnatural darkness spreads and envelopes she and her arachnid companion, shielding them from the bolts of the hidden drow.

Inside the walls, Stool's club engorges and strikes. But the drow's chain armor dampens the impact, allowing him to roll with the blow and avoid real damage.


Joining Faedryl's sister is a menacing, wiry demon, its leathery black hide covered in what look like sores oozing fresh blood, its clawed hands permanently stained red. A single black spike rises from the back of its head, curving upwards like a scorpion's sting. The babau bodyguard is wearing an armored vambrace and pauldron upon its left arm, to which its black-tipped spear is attached with a chain. 

Whipping the weapon around, it clubs Faedryl upside the head with the haft, moving too swiftly for her to respond with a Shield of her own. Spectral chains erupt from the zurkhwood haft and snap towards Faedryl like a trio of snakes. This time she reacts quickly enough to evade them, the phantom chains fading as they contact only the ground.

Adjusting its stance, the demon flicks its gaze at Derendil's back and its eyes flash red.

*Spoiler: Arcana or Religion: Babau*
Show

Faedryl knows up to DC 12 automatically, for her past knowledge of her sister's bodyguard.

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

The name escapes you, but these are supposed to be poisonous? Is it in their head-stinger?


*Spoiler: DC 8*
Show

This demon is called a babau. They are said to be molded from the souls of murderers and assassins. A layer of corrosive slime that looks like blood coats their bodies, damaging metal and wood weapons that strike them and splashing or spurting when they are hurt, making it dangerous to stand too close.


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

The gaze of a babau holds a similar hex to the Ray of Enfeeblement spell. They do not need to meet a creature's eye to mark them with this curse of weakness, but protection against curses will ward against it.

Babau wield their own natural arcane magic as well. They can conjure darkness, enchant their eyes to see through invisibility, and dispel magic. They are naturally resistant to acid, cold and fire, and share most demons' resistance to mundane weapons. Poison and electricity will be of no avail against them.


*Spoiler: DC 18*
Show

Legends tell that the first babau were born from the blood of Graz'zt, a former devil turned demon lord, before the Abyss and the demons adopted the template for themselves. They share many traits of devils, such as a more cautious and intelligent nature than their other demons.

A lesser known trait they inherited from the devils is Devil's Sight, able to see through even magical darkness.




Charging out of the false wall within the soldiers' tent, a quaggoth slave barrels down on Derendil and lunges at him with both claws in a raking strike. The two vicious claws are suddenly repelled to either side as they approach Derendil, scattered by an invisible field of force. A shimmering glow spreads over the price's malformed body, his spell powering a sympathetic barrier.

Then, his fur stands on end, and he feels the sensation of something's eyes on him from behind. His limbs feel weak, his legs shaking.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae slumbers.
Eyegore casts Darkness.
Stool takes a swing, missing Drow Warrior.

Quaggoth attacks Derendil with two claws, blocked by a Shield spell. Derendil's arcane ward manifests.
Babau strikes Faedryl with its spear for *6* damage. She evades the spear's magical snare with a successful Dex save.
Babau uses its Enfeebling Gaze on Derendil. He fails his Con save and deals half damage with Strength-based weapon attacks for 1 minute. He may make another save at the end of each of his turns.

Faedryl, Sarith and Borthan are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11
Drow Zombies - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5
Topsy - 9

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

A quiet groan passes Faedryl's lips as she scrapes past the demon's spear, taking a lump for her troubles. Not all scions of Melad were born equal, and for every fast-firing synapse and keen thought that blitzed through Faedryl's mind, she seems to have stolen one from Alaulure. The girl - her elder sister - was, frankly, stupid. Faedryl could try to dress it up, and talk up her good parts, but it was a testament to the Matron's patience that the girl hadn't been sent off to die in a hole somewhere already. Then again, that might be exactly what this was. Her mother throwing her 'failures' at each other in the hopes that both die. If Faedryl were not Faedryl, perhaps Alaulure could claim victory and prestige with the family. 

But Faedryl was Faedryl and so her sister would die. Quickly if she were lucky, painfully if she were not - and Alaulure's luck had tended to be incredibly inconsistent. "Run away, Lulu. Run away and take your child with you. If you're lucky Mother will assume you died and you can both live long lives out of her reach." Her eyes darken, the whites filling with inky darkness once more as the magic from beyond the far reach encircles shadowy sinews around her sister. "Or die." A click of Faedryl's fingers, nothing more, and three magic circles appear surrounding her sister, each one traced with elven runes and sealed with Faedryl's own name. The blast beams of pure white-purple energy at her sister, magic in its rawest form, and in its wake the black magic follows to enhance the pain felt. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Hexblade Curse on Alaulure.
*Action:* Magic Missile on Alaulure. *Damage:* (1d4)[*3*]+3 * 3 = *18* total force damage
*Move:* None.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

From inside the tent Sarith hears plenty, but most of it doesn't matter to him. Faedryl's family spat wasn't as important, though he finds the idea that she would let them leave...distasteful. Was it sentiment getting the better of her? He'd make the decision for her then, do what she couldn't, and cut off the head of the snake first. He lets down his heavy crossbow for a moment, tugging forth the smaller alternative. In these close quarters, its limited range would be unimportant. After taking a moment to conceal his presence he thrusts aside the tent flap and looses a bolt at the Melad - the attacker, not Faedryl - before letting it drop and shifting back into the tent. If the poison dropped her, then the execution would be swift and final. 




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Hide, using the tent as cover from Alaulure. (1d20+6)[*15*]
*Action:* Fire a drow poison bolt from his hand crossbow. (1d20+8)[*21*] Advantage on successful hide: (1d20+8)[*10*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*5*]  *9* from discord, rerolled with piercer + (1d6)[*5*] Sneak Attack (if hidden)
Save vs. Poison: (1d20)[*17*]+ConMod.
*Move:* Shift position inside the tent to better hide from Alaulure

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 11/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
3 of 3 d10 HD.

Borthan grits his teeth through the bite of the bolt and the clubbing blows from the zombies, but he can't maintain his simple magic against their onslaught. Feeling the killer's instinct fade away, Borthan replaces it with rage as he moves to interpose the zombies between himself and the source of the crossbow bolt, axes coming across with lethal slashes.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Working on clearing out zombies. (1d20+5)[*23*] to hit, then (1d8+3)[*10*] damage, then (1d20+5)[*20*] to hit and (1d8+3)[*6*] damage. (1d8)[*4*] damage if a crit happens.

----------


## RandomWombat

The bolts of raw magic begin to streak at Alaulure, and are met with shrieking laughter as she raises her hand, sweeping it and creating several discs of force that interpose themselves. Each missile strikes one of the discs, dissipating harmlessly as the energy is transferred into a glimmering field around her - similar to Derendil's. "Why would I run away, Fae? Can't you see I'm winning?" Her gloating is cut off as Sarith sneaks a small crossbow bolt past her barriers. The bolt pierces her magical field and draws a scratch along her thigh, causing her to hiss. Another hiss of pain can be heard in synchronicity from the shroud of darkness, near Shuushar.

Before he can receive retribution, Sarith vanishes back into the furthest corner of the tent. "Nnngh! How's this for an offer: Out of sisterly love, surrender now and your _new_ boyfriend can go free! Since you seem to care so much for your males," Alaulure shouts back at Faedryl.

"Normal weapons aren't going to work well against that demon. Here!" Turvy reaches out and touches the pommel of the dagger his sister is in the midst of drawing. An audible hum fills the air, and the metal blade seems to vibrate. With his other hand he hurls a meager cantrip at its back, "Frigus!"

The cold against its back barely bothers the babau. But it brings its attention towards the tent, in time to swat Topsy's strike out of the way. She pettily tries to stomp on its foot, but the demon slides its taloned leg aside with a toothy sneer and mocking chuckle.

*"Rraaagh!"* coming in from the side, Ront takes a swinging haymaker with his demon skull gauntlet. The babau deftly leans out of the way, and Ront corrects from the swing by slamming his spiked shield into the demon. The spikes sizzle from a fresh coating of blood-like acid.


At the opposite side of camp, standing alone against his foes, Borthan delivers a pair of vicious cuts to one of the zombies. One swings low and only leaves a gash across its chest that does not bother it at all. The second axe, however, sends its whole head swinging to the side and lops off its lower jaw. With a gurgling sound, it continues its relentless advance.

After stepping out of the tent he'd been investigating and assessing the situation, Jimjar sees Borthan isolated and in trouble. A playing card embeds itself in the zombie's missing jaw, then flashes red and suddenly explodes, taking its head clean off. The headless corpse flops to the ground. The gnome smirks and flashes a salute, *"Got your back, Bort!"*


Under the darkness, Nilvae feels something nudging her numb body. Then a light braying next to her ear draws her back into the realm of consciousness, her worried donkey's breath on her face. From just inside the drow checkpoint she can hear Shuushar's voice stammering, "You dond haff to do dis. Jusd lower the weabons and lets talk." A pair of impacts can be heard, both merely striking against his chain shirt with a clinking sound.


Tossing his hand crossbow aside, the drow officer facing Derendil pulls out an offhand dagger. He opens with a thrust using his shortsword to distract the Shield, then swings in close with his dagger. The dagger would have caught the quaggoth prince's throat - had his arcane war not rebounded the blade like a rubber cushion.

From between his two foes, a small bolt sails out and strikes Derendil in the leg.


Inside the walls, Stool catches the bladed end of his opponent's weapon underneath his bucket. The strike would perhaps be more deadly if not for his fungal biology.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl curses Alaulure with Hexblade Curse.
Faedryl casts Magic Missile! Alaulure counters with a Shield spell!
Sarith hits Alaulure even past the extra Shield AC, dealing *14* damage. She resists the Poison. Of the 6 damage that gets past her ward, *3* is transferred to Alaufaen.
Borthan slashes Drow Zombie B for *10* and *6* damage.

Turvy casts Arcane Weapon (Thunder) on Topsy's dagger.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost, dealing *2* cold damage and slowing the Babau.
Topsy whose turn I definitely didn't forget acts now, missing with her first attack, and with an offhand unarmed strike.
Jimjar overkills Drow Zombie B with a *16* damage Cartomancy sneak attack, which turns out to be important because its Undead Fortitude almost had it survive.
Under Darkness, Mr. Spide transforms into Dr. Donk. He uses an action to wake Nilvae up.
Shuushar casts Cure Wounds on himself, regaining *9* hit points.
Ront misses his main swing, but hits with an improvised offhand for *2* damage on the Babau.

Drow Elite attacks Derendil twice for one miss, and an offhand crit for *6* damage.
Alaufaen misses Shuushar twice.
Drow Warrior A shoots at Dr. Donk in the dark, but misses due to Disadvantage.
Drow Warrior B stabs Stool, dealing *7* damage.
Drow Warrior C shoots Derendil for *6* damage. He is immune to poison.

Derendil's turn is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11
Drow Zombies - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 22/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (10 rounds)

Derendil sees light bend and distort as his ward blossoms to absorb the would-be lethal blow at his throat. He sees a similar distortion blossom around his leg and then wink out as the magic was overwhelmed by the blow. But that was ok. His magic had done it's job and saved his life. Now it was the beast's turn to flip the tables on their foes. Shouting over his shoulder in Elvish, Derendil commands Sarith- "Sarith! Save Shuushar! If any of us go down he can save us, but if he goes down our healing is cut off! Faedryl has Ront, SAVE SHUUSHARRRRRRR!"

Borthan's voice is cut off by a strangled growl of pain that exploded into a howl of rage. He launched himself at the quaggoth in front of him, slashing madly, but keeping his shield arm up to ward any blows from the drow elite. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Attack- (1d20+5)[*7*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*8*] damage with a +2 from rage. Derendil picked up a spiked shield, and I don't remember the stats from that, but he will off hand attack the drow elite to try to provoke his reaction. Tit for tat, you evil bastard.

----------


## RandomWombat

The other quaggoth lurches back, craning its neck out of the way of Derendil's claw swipe. With his other arm he swings his shield, clipping the drow officer in the cheek with the tip of one of the spikes and leaving a thin trail of blood. The drow glowers at him and vainly flicks his hair back with a motion of the neck.


Borthan is recovering from his dual axe swings when another arrow flashes out from the wall at his most unprepared. It sticks him, pain shooting through him as he struggles to remain standing. That moment of weakness is enough for the zombie in front of him to grab him by the shoulders and shove him into the ground, where he hits his head and the world blacks out.


Next to Alaulure, a drow scout emerges from behind the tent and raises his bow, taking a shot at Topsy that catches her along the side, cutting through her armor. "Dammit! We're getting hit from all sides, we need to bail!" the pragmatic gnomess shouts.

"I, I'm being overwhelmbed," Shuushar wheezes out as he gets struck in the stomach, just managing to duck out of the way of another strike to the side of the head from his diminutive yet agile opponent.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil Rages. He misses Quaggoth with his first swing, then hits Drow Elite with an improvised critical for *2* damage after his curse of enfeeblement and Rage bonus.
Derendil's banked save roll cures him of the curse of enfeeblement.

Drow Scout A shoots Borthan for *9* damage.
Drow Scout B shoots Topsy for *10* damage.
Alaufaen strikes Shuushar for *8* damage, then misses with her offhand.
Drow Zombie strikes Borthan for *3* damage, knocking him out.

Nilvae, Stool and Eyegore are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11
Drow Zombies - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 16/23| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  Bless (Derendil, Ront, Stool) 

Nilvae dreams of nothing. She just lies there in a dark field, surrounded by a cacophonic mixture of woodland sounds and the echo of the Underdark. Far away, she can hear skittering of spider legs, and then a donkey's cry. She rises, hearing her trusty donkey, diving headfirst into a warm lake. As she opens her eyes, she realizes the liquid is purely donkey slobber. She quickly rises as her adrenaline surges. She still was caught in the Underdark, and this was yet another drow assault. Retreating into the dark orb of Eyegore, she pleads her master's powers to bless the warriors protecting her as she enchants some stones.

*Spoiler*
Show

Rise, half move north. Cast Bless on Stool, Ront, Derendil. Cast Magic Stone. 





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 21/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP), Bless (from Nilvae), Halo of Spores (remember!) 
Concentration: Shillelagh 

Seemingly, Stool does not react to the injury. The cut in his exterior quickly turns blue, but no liquid rushes out. As as response however, the whole room is filled with dark-grey spores all of a sudden. The shroom triples in size magically, as the spores envelop the drow assailant. Additionally, the myconid continues its physical beating.

*Spoiler*
Show

bonus: Activate Symbiotic Entity
Action: Shillelagh: (1d20+5)[*12*] for (1d8+3)[*4*] blunt plus (1d6)[*5*] necrotic
(+1 from Bless)

Reaction: Halo of Spores (2d4)[*6*] necrotic damage unless Con save DC 13

----------


## RandomWombat

Stealing away under darkness, Nilvae reaches out through her connection to the fey power. Derendil, Ront and even Stool hidden away in his little nook are touched by a feeling of beneficent coincidence, as if luck were tipped slightly in their favor. The warlock's eyes pierce the darkness as she climbs back to her feet, and she can see Shuushar in the process of being beaten up by a little girl.

Derendil's opposite yowls in challenge at the raging prince, taking one claw swipe that swings wide by miles, then lunging in with a second that finds a crack in Derendil's defenses to jab at his side.

The babau reaches out with its free hand to grab at Faedryl, but the drow fugitive slips out of its acid-drenched claws before she can be pulled in.


The tipping of the scales proves not to be quite enough to topple Stool's opponent, however. Against the swelling myconid, the drow warrior uses his bracers to deflect the incoming shillelagh, holding his breath to avoid breathing in any of the harmful spores - for now.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae stands, and casts Bless on Stool, Derendil and Ront.
Nilvae uses Magic Stone, gaining some stone ammunition.
Stool activates Symbiotic Entity. He takes a swing at Drow Warrior B, but misses even with Bless.
Retroactively rolled a Halo of Spores save since we forgot last round. The warrior passed, but will have to save again on his next turn against the 6 damage one.

Quaggoth misses with one claw attack, but hits Derendil with the other for *4* damage unless he'd like to Shield up again.
Babau attempts to Grapple Faedryl, but she escapes.

Faedryl, Sarith and Borthan('s death save) are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11
Drow Zombies - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 0/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
3 of 3 d10 HD.
Death Saves- 1 pass

Borthan bleeds.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

"You can't really think..." This was how every conversation with Lulu went. She had some stupid idea and latched onto it and would not relent: _"Faedryl likes men, and therefore her partner must have been a man."_ Faedryl wants to bury her head in her hands. None of it was right. But try convincing an idiot and... "Did you think Qiya was a man!? Are you that blind!?" It wasn't as if they'd been strangers. They'd met on a few occasions and bookish Faedryl had only ever had Qiya. Ridiculous. 

She sees another drow moving to back Alaulure and lashes out with her mind, trying to force them back into the wall as she once again conjures a stream of magic missiles, holding them in the air for a moment. The magic gleams in the dark, the magic circles pinpricks that fight back against the Underdark just as much as she wishes to. Her own guiding lights. "I won't stop. Not for you. Not for anyone."



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* TK Shove the drow beside Alaulure (1d20)[*16*] +StrMod vs DC14 or be shoved 5' back into the wall, for (1d4)[*1*] damage.
*Action:* Magic Missile on Alaulure. *Damage:* (1d4)[*4*]+3 * 3 = *21* total force damage
*Move:* None.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

He hadn't seen it but he'd heard the grunt of pain. He'd hit, he was sure of that much. Yet she stood. Perhaps the poison had dried out or was improperly extracted in the first place. Regardless, he could only try again. Again he takes a moment to centre himself and hide, before leaping out to loose another hand crossbow shot at the leader, and vanish back into the tent before any repurcussions could come his way. 




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Hide, using the tent as cover from Alaulure. (1d20+6)[*17*]
*Action:* Fire a drow poison bolt from his hand crossbow. (1d20+8)[*13*] Advantage on successful hide: (1d20+8)[*20*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*8*] + (1d6)[*4*] Sneak Attack
Save vs. Poison: (1d20)[*17*]+ConMod.
*Move:* Out to fire and then back in again.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Sisters' Battle*

For a key moment, Alaulure's face twists into one of confusion. She places a hand on her hip and drops her guard, waving her rapier around conversationally and sending a few dripping drops of acid down against the stone, staining it with a sizzling pop. "Qiya? What are you talking about? Qiya was a _woman_! You were both part of that men-loving hippy cult!" whether her sister's own foolish misinterpretation or a series of lies and half-truths spewed by their mother (more likely a combination of the two), Alaulure's confusion leaves her open long enough for a trio of energy bolts to be launched at her from all directions.

In a panic she tries to raise her shields again, but the blasts pepper her from all sides and leave her with a series of painful, glowing-white injuries. Her barrier comes up only in time to deflect the bolt that Sarith had thrown her way. A glimmer of her arcane wards flickers back to life, and she clutches her side with her free hand. But the wounds do not seem as sever as they ought, and the cries of pain come from more than one direction...

The babau turns its head and flicks its dark eyes back towards its charge. Through gritted teeth the demon impels in Elvish, *"Lure. Please stop standing in the open and making my job harder."*

"No, please do," slipping past the Babau as it attempts to trip her up with the haft of its spear (*"You little gremlin!"*), Topsy lunges towards Alaulure. "Turvy! Pincer!" Another bolt of frost shoots out from the tent as Turvy runs out alongside his sister, but Alaulure blocks it with her shield of force. Daggers in hand, the two gnomes flank her. But she splits the shield in two, defending both sides.

"Foolish cretins! As if common gnomes could lay a finger on drow _nobility_!"

While the Babau is distracted, Ront rears back and takes a swing, connecting with the side of its head using the demon skull gauntlet. The demonic bone seems far more effective than his shield did, a cracking heard from the impact. The Babau spits out a chip from one of its sharp teeth and ducks. Acid splattered upon the skull gauntlet seems ineffective at burning the Slime Demon's bone away. A few flecks burn Ront's arm, but the orc is not dissuaded. He brings around his shield for a second blow, striking the demon for a meager blow. This time it spits some blood from its mouth back in his face, causing him to cry out in pain. Ront drops the shield, now a melting metal lump of slag on the ground.

*"Take the girl and go before you get dead!"* the Babau shouts back at Alaulure, *"I will finish this!"*

"I'm the one in charge!" Alaulure shouts back. But she pulls away from the twins, running back into the hole she crawled out of. "Alaufaen! Fall back and use your seed!"

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

Seed...

Matron Melad keeps many useful creatures and artifacts under her thumb. One of those is the dryad Flaxae, who she keeps fed on humanoid flesh and addictive demon blood. A creature twisted into an image as evil and capricious as the Matron herself. The dryad is bound to a cursed tree, kept beneath Melad Manor where it wallows in a faerzress-filled chamber.

Seeds that grow from the dryad's cursed tree can be crushed between the teeth, teleporting the user back to the tree - the tree's long time soaking in the faerzress allows it to bypass the normal risks, although only being able to transport one way. Faedryl's mother uses these seeds only for her own escape plans, and for a few select elite agents - certainly not the likes of Alaulure. How her idiot sister got access to the seeds is anybody's guess.


Taking her place, a fresh drow warrior rushes out and jabs at Turvy with his blade, but fails to connect.


*Derendil's Stand*

With only a glance at the scene behind Derendil, the elite warrior continues to deliver cutting strikes. Though his dagger whistles wide, defending against both weapons proves difficult and earns Derendil another nick. Another bolt flies out of the hidden passage, stinging his ear.


*Saving Private Borthan*

A flash of light slices through the neck of the second zombie standing over Borthan. With a gurgling groan it falls over, Jimjar leaping to land next to the fallen ranger. He stands above Borthan, a gleaming energy flowing across his skin as he raises his crossbow. A shot is fired into the fake wall where the archer is hidden, but the clatter of stone announces that his bolt failed to connect. *"Hang in there, buddy. I bet you can make it."*


*Those Left Behind*

The braying donkey follows Nilvae nervously into the darkness, staying close and twitching at every sound. In the darkness, the warlock can see glowing, bleeding wounds appear across the drow girl's body as she menaces Shuushar, nearly bringing her to her knees.

"Sombthing is harming the girl!" despite her repeated, deadly attacks, Shuushar calls out in fear for the young drow's safety. Focusing his energy inward, he holds up his spear defensively. "Girl, do you speak Undercombon?"

"Shut up you ugly fish," the girls snarls back.


*Secret Stool*

Stool's opponent continues to fight intently above his paygrade, landing a brutal slice across the mushroom's body that fails to pierce down to his _true_ body at its core. His dagger scores only a glancing nick.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan passes a Death Save.
Faedryl casts Magic Missile. Alaulure is hit for *11* damage while distracted. *10* is transferred to Alaufaen.
Sarith barely misses Alaulure with his sneak attack, after she gets her Shield up.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Alaulure, but misses.
Topsy Disengages as a Cunning Action and attacks Alaulure, but misses.
Jimjar crits with his magic card for *39* damage to Drow Zombie C, gaining himself *8* temp hp in the process. He takes an offhand shot at Drow Scout A, but misses.
Dr. Donk follows Nilvae and Dodges.
Shuushar heals himself for *6* with Healing Word, and Dodges.
Ront hits Babau with demon skull gauntlet for *10* damage, then with his shield for *2* damage. His shield is destroyed, and he takes *11* acid counter-damage total. The skull from a Slime Demon is, however, immune to Babau slime deterioration. Go figure.

Drow Elite strikes Derendil for *4* damage with his sword, but misses his dagger strike.
Alaulure Disengages and moves into hiding. Turvy still gets an AoO, but misses.
Drow Warrior A misses Turvy.
Drow Warrior B hits Stool for *8* damage, and *1* offhand damage.
Drow Warrior C shoots Derendil for *2* damage.

Derendil's turn!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11
Drow Zombies - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 16/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil lashes out at the drow elite, trying to keep guarded while clawing at his eyes.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*19*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*10*].

----------


## RandomWombat

*Derendil's Stand*

With a vicious strike, Derendil swats away the blade with which the drow tries to parry, slashing past his face and leaving a bloody mark across his forehead. "Ngh!" grunting in pain, and tipping his head to the side to keep blood from running into his eyes, the elite collects himself and brings his guard back up.

*Saving Private Borthan*

An arrow flies out from behind the veil in the wall, striking Jimjar in the chest. There is a glimmer of light that deflects the arrow, sending it skidding against the stone. But a thin line of blood is left trailed along Jimjar's chest where it slid past.

*The Sisters' Battle*

The scout next to Turvy takes advantage of his focus on Alaulure to jump back against the prefab barricade and bound off, loosing an arrow back over his comrade's shoulder as he flies. The fancy maneuver sticks Turvy, who yelps and grabs at the wound.

*Those Left Behind*

Slotting one of the tonfas into a holster at her side, the drow girl pulls out a small brown seed and sets it between her teeth. Shuushar makes an attempt to swat it out of her hand with the butt of his spear, but he is too slow. As she cracks the shell, her body glows and then pulls inwards with a 'pop' sound, leaving only empty space.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil strikes the Drow Elite for *10* damage, just managing to sneak past its Parry.

Drow Scout A shoots at Jimjar, hitting for a *11* damage sneak attack. His temp hp eats most of it.
Drow Scout B shoots at Turvy, hitting for a *14* damage sneak attack.
Alaufaen flees using a Flaxae Seed. This provokes from Shuushar, who misses.

Nilvae, Stool and Eyegore are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 16/23| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  Bless (Derendil, Ront, Stool) 

Nilvae breaks out into song, voicing her patron's most enchanting melodies to strengthen her allies. The effect on Stool and Derendil, both creatures in tune with nature is apparent, but oddly enough the fleeting melody also affects Ront.

With little else to do, Nilvae pelts the Babau with her magic stones like a fey-infused hooligan. Eyegore slightly moves to cover Ront in his protective darkness.

*Spoiler*
Show

(1d20+6)[*10*]
(1d6+3)[*8*]





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 21/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (12 tHP), Bless (from Nilvae), Halo of Spores (remember!) 
Concentration: Shillelagh 

Stool assails his opponent yet again, with staff and poison. A cloud of spores exudes from the tiny mushroom, violently trying to push itself into the lungs of its enemy.

*Spoiler*
Show

(1d20+5)[*19*]
(1d8+3)[*8*] plus (1d6)[*1*]
Halo (2d4)[*7*] vs DC 13 Con

----------


## RandomWombat

*Versus the Babau*

Darkness falls over the frontlines, though the Babau's piercing red gaze looks none the cloudier as it flicks its eyes to Nilvae's rock and subtly shifts its head out of the way. The Babau winds back and tries to kick up the butt of its spear at Faedryl in an uppercut, but she sees the move coming and twists out of the way.

A lancing look is shot at Ront, and the orc flexes his hands, as if fighting off numbness.

*Derendil's Stand*

Though the darkness has not availed muchly against the Babau, it causes Derendil's foes to squint against the magical dark. The other quaggoth lunges forward, a lack of telling depth making a potentially deadly claw slash miss Derendil's throat by inches instead. However, its other claw finds purchase on his side, leaving a painful scratch.

*Secret Stool*

The enemy had been lucky, so far. But now Stool swings in and the drow's blade is too slow to block. It impacts his chest, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to take a gulp of air. Choking, carnivorous spores settle in his throat and he falls forward onto the ground, coughs wracking his body.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae tosses a stone at Babau, missing.
Eyegore shuffles up.
Stool hits for *9* damage and his Spores will do *7*. Drow Warrior B's luck finally runs out, and he is KO'd.

Quaggoth's crit is prevented by Disadvantage from Darkness, but its second attack hits for *4* after Rage reduction.
Babau misses Faedryl, and Ront saves against its Enfeebling Gaze.

Faedryl and Sarith are up, and Borthan gets another death save.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 0/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
3 of 3 d10 HD.
Death Saves- 1 pass

Borthan remains unconcious.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Death save (1d20)[*17*]

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

Either her sister was dumb enough to steal from Mother Dearest, or, perhaps, she was investing more into this takedown operation than Faedryl had originally bargained for. It didn't matter - what mattered was adequately dealing with the problem. "You had your chance Lulu." Whatever the truth, giving up pursuit and letting her leave would be folly. She bursts from the darkness in pursuit of her sister, curving around the tent's side with the gnomes to give chase even as she calls a spell ready to unleash against whatever she saw there.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* TK Shove the drow beside Turvy (1d20)[*5*]+StrMod vs DC14 or be shoved 5' back into the wall, for (1d4)[*1*] damage.
*Move:* As map. Probably provoking an OA from the Babau.
*Action:* If she can see her sister after moving, she'll cast magic missile for (1d4+3)[*7*]*3=*21* Force damage.

If she can't see her sister, she'll cast Create Bonfire beneath the feet of the drow two spaces south of Drow Warrior A. They're not labelled, sorry. (1d20)[*20*]+DexMod vs. DC14 or take (1d8)[*5*] fire damage.







*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Even from inside the tent Sarith can hear enough to understand what's happening. The important foe was getting away, and if they let them go, then all his work here - the potshots, the poison bolts - would all be wasted. And they'd have to deal with further ambushes down the (literal and figurative) road. He didn't particularly want to deal with that, he bursts from the tent, leaving the demon alone and follows suit, loosing his crossbow at the keyest target he can lay his eyes on.




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Hide, using the tent as cover. (1d20+6)[*26*]
*Move:* As Map.
*Action:* Fire a drow poison bolt from his hand crossbow at Alaulure if he can see her, Drow Warrior A if not: (1d20+8)[*28*] Advantage on successful hide: (1d20+8)[*23*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*9*] + (1d6)[*4*] Sneak Attack + *8* damage from discord from crit.
Save vs. Poison: (1d20)[*4*]+ConMod.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Versus the Babau*

The warrior next to Turvy finds himself shoved as if from nowhere, knocking his shoulder against the portable barricade.

Faedryl tries to slip past the Babau, but the demon is too quick. Spinning around, it strikes her upside the head with the haft of its spear, sending her senses reeling for a moment. Then she can feel a tightening around her, stopping her from moving forward. Spectral chains have again erupted from the demon's weapon, this time ensnaring her. Like serpents coiled around her limbs. Ront takes advantage of the Babau being between them and uses his skull gauntlet to sock it in the square of the back. More acid splashes against Ront's face from the Babau's slimy skin, stinging and burning his cheek.

As Faedryl vainly tries to bring flames up beneath the agile scout, she can feel spectral fingers crawling into her thoughts and attempting to muddy the spell. While Faedryl manages in the end, the drow sidesteps the flames deftly. 

With the Babau occupied, Sarith springs from the tent. Beyond the two drow in his way is only a wall, but his killer instinct takes over. Alaulure went somewhere. They came from somewhere. Leveling his crossbow, he trusts his gut and fires directly into the wall. The cry of a female drow and the clatter of an armored figure falling to the ground announce his success, and the Babau's head flashes towards him with a furious hiss.

Throwing himself away from the staggered warrior, Turvy flattens up against part of the barricade and flings a freezing ray back at his foe. Ice begins to form on the drow warrior's body, and Turvy follows up by placing two fingers to his temple. A thread-thin bolt of purple light flashes between his forehead and the drow, and the warrior's eyes roll back in his head, falling unconscious.

"Nice work, keep it up," his sister compliments, running past Sarith to jab her dagger at the scout dancing around Faedryl's fire. A glancing contact sets off a small sonic pop that causes the drow to cry out as concussive force bombards his shins.

*Saving Private Borthan*

*"Shuu, a buddy needs help up here,"* after debating trying to give first aid, Jimjar calls out to their healer and then runs into the phantasmal wall the scout had fled through. 

Stepping out of the darkness and assessing the situation, Shuushar closes his eyes and folds his hands together. A pulse of life energy reverberates through those nearby who are most wounded, and Borthan feels himself awaken. Faedryl and Derendil likewise feel some strength returning to their flagging bodies.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl TK shoves Drow Warrior A, dealing *1* damage and knocking him away from Turvy.
Faedryl runs past, provoking an attack from the Babau. She is struck for *9* damage and becomes Restrained, stopping her in her tracks. While Restrained by the spectral chains, casting or maintaining spells requires a DC 13 Concentration check, or the spell is lost.
Faedryl passes a Concentration check to cast Create Bonfire, but Drow Scout B (who now has his nametag on) avoids it.
Sarith breezes past and pops Alaulure for a *21* damage sneak attack, KOing her even if she didn't fail her poison save.

Turvy hits Drow Warrior with Ray of Frost for *7* damage, and follows with a *5* damage Mind Thrust that KOs.
Topsy uses Help on Turvy's next attack as a bonus action.
Topsy stabs Drow Scout B for *5* damage.
Jimjar misses Drow Scout A with a crossbow shot. He uses Lucky to redo that and hits for *4*, but the drow passes his save against poison.
Dr. Donk remains near Nilvae, using Dodge.
Shuushar uses Channel Divinity to Preserve Life. Borthan is healed for *6*, Derendil for *5*, and Faedryl for *4*.
Ront clobbers Babau for *7* damage, but takes *7* back from the acid.

The future has changed: it is now Borthan's turn, as he is awake again, but Prone.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12
Alaufaen - 11

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
3 of 3 d10 HD.
Death Saves- 2 pass

Borthan's eyes open, then look around. He was heavily wounded, but he was conscious. Without getting up, he reached into an improvised sheath along his leg, got his recently acquired wand, and preformed the well practiced maneuver to activate it, touching his leg. Vigor swept into his body, and he felt as though he could go a few more punches, at least. Borthan stowed the wand, picked up his battle axes, and moved to follow Jimjar, meaning to have words with the scout who had been shooting him in the back.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

False life wand, go- (1d4+4)[*5*] Temp HP. 1/2 charges remaining. Pick up the weapons, use half move speed to stand up, move to follow Jimjar.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Secret Stool*

The cry of the warrior as he falls draws attention away from Derendil's stand against the quaggoth and elite. A second warrior steps around the corner from deeper in the cavern, loading a new bolt into his hand crossbow. Leveling it, he fires a bolt that pierces through Stool's swarm of spores and deflates him back to his original size.

*Saving Private Borthan*

Dragging himself from the ground, Borthan limps towards the false wall from whence the arrows that struck him down came. As the wand does its work, the arrows are pushed out of him by growths of soft, grey fungal flesh that swell to fill and staunch his wounds. It is a strange feeling. But it helps.

As he peers into the tunnel, he can see Jimjar and the scout in a face off with their respective bows.

*Derendil's Stand*

Bolstered by Shuushar's restorative magic, Derendil is able to raise his arm and turn aside the blade of the elite drow, suffering a scrape along his tough hide arm but nothing worse.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan picks himself up and gives himself a pick-me-up for *5* temp hp.

Drow Elite strikes Derendil for *4* damage, after reduction.
Alaulure passes her first death save.
Drow Warrior A passes his first death save.
Drow Warrior B fails his first death save. Starting his turn in Stool's spore aura deals another failed death save.
Drow Warrior C shoots Stool for *8* damage, popping his Spores. He passes his save against Drow Poison.

Derendil is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 17/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil continues to vent his rage against the quaggoth who menaces him, attempting to claw it to death.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*20*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*9*] damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Versus the Babau*

Tossing his bow aside now that he's backed into a corner, the scout draws his own dagger. Spinning it into a reverse grip, he and Topsy flick their blades back and forth in a close quarters knife fight, the drow landing a cut to her free hand as she's forced to deflect the foe's knife from her vitals.

*Saving Private Borthan*

A quick shot from the scout down the tunnel flashes past Jimjar, scraping along his arm before he can get out of the way. *"Our luck's turning, Bort. Wanna lend me a hand?"* the jovial gnome asks, still well enough to offer a lighthearted word, as he draws another bolt to load his weapon.

*Derendil's Stand*

Lashing out, Derendil lands a brutal claw swipe across the other quaggoth's chest, causing the beast-man to howl. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Didn't open Discord so I made the dice rolls in roll20.
Derendil strikes Quaggoth for a cool *9* damage. He had Advantage from the magical Darkness, and a Bless spell, but neither proved necessary.

Drow Scout A shoots Jimjar for *6* damage.
Drow Scout B moves out of the bonfire and drops his bow, drawing a dagger instead. He hits Topsy for *5* damage.

Nilvae, Stool and Eyegore are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## RandomWombat

*Versus the Babau*

Teeth bared in a savage grimace, the babau abandons its stance and springs towards the fake wall, dragging Faedryl behind him as the spectral chains tether her to his spear. His back is left exposed, but he moves too swiftly for Ront or Topsy to get a hit in before he is gone.

Blazing a trail straight through the fire, he sticks his spear into the ground next to him and squats down partway through the illusory wall. Faedryl lets the flames die away before they burn her. She can hear the sound of a bottle uncorking from the other side.

"Augh! My hair!" Alaulure's voice can be heard, a hiss of pain.

*"It will heal,"* dismissing her complaint, the Babau turns to face Faedryl, looming over her as he plucks his spear back out of the ground. But his murderous gaze is set over her shoulder, upon Sarith.

*Derendil's Stand*

Swooping in past Derendil's shoulder, Eyegore grabs at the enemy quaggoth's face, just missing its eyes and leaving tiny gouges along its brow. The little sprite giggles gleefully as he swoops back out of the creature's grasp, underneath a swiping claw.

As it leans out of the tent to reach after the blighter, the quaggoth is met with a stone pelting it in the face. Enraged, the beast shoves its way past Derendil and lunges into the darkness in the direction of Eyegore, sniffing at the air and tracing the scent of its own blood on the sprite's claws. One palm makes contact, and Eyegore swishes through the air, recovering from the impact.

*Secret Stool*

Puffing up again like a bloated balloon of fungal flesh, Stool waddles menacingly towards the next drow in line.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Eyegore gouges Quaggoth for *4* damage, then moves back to where he was, the Quag's AoO missing. The save vs Blinded is passed, however.
Nilvae hits Quaggoth with a Magic Stone for *7* damage.
Stool reactivates his Spore Form.

Quaggoth moves out of the tent to slash at Eyegore, missing once due to Darkness and hitting once for *3* damage, post-reduction.
Babau moves, his magic spear dragging Faedryl behind him into her bonfire, provoking opportunity attacks from Ront, Faedryl, Sarith and Topsy in the process. Ront and Turvy both miss. The bonfire deals *4* damage to it, however. Faedryl drops it before she gets toasted.
Babau uses a Healing Potion on Alaulure for *10* healing. However, Babau acid deals *8* of that back as damage.

Faedryl, Sarith and Borthan are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

The demon's 'loyalty' was foolish, but perhaps it just didn't want to see the abyss once more. It didn't matter. Enwrapped as she is by the chains she reaches forward with her free hand, holding it as close as possible to the demon. No ornate drawing this time, no elegant incantation or magic circle. She instead simply focuses her magic into a single blast of power from her hand right at its face, looking to force it back and to stomp upon her 'beloved' sister. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None.
*Action:* She can't see Lulu through the wall, so Magic Missile the babau. Sadly no hexblade curse boost. *6* force damage (rolled from discord)
*Bonus Action:* TK Shove the Babaue into Lulu. (1d20)[*20*]+StrMod vs DC14 or be shoved 5' back. Go trample your master. Damage if relevant? (1d4)[*2*] (1d4)[*2*]




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

There was too much going on in melee for Sarith to find any gaps. His crossbow sways for a moment as he tries to pick past the throng, but decides better, and tosses the weapon aside as he sprints forward shortsword in hand. He deftly slides past the gnome, the drow, and Faedryl with the grace of one trained in doing so, lashing out through the illusionwall at the now-healed leader of the drow. 




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Dash.
*Move:* As Map, though if he can get past the illusory wall all the better.
*Action:* Attack Alaulure, with advantage since she's prone. *14* and *11* from Discord. *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*6*]+(1d6)[*4*] Sneak Attack

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
3 of 3 d10 HD.


Borthan picked up speed, and by the time he reached the drow scout he was a howling wild man swinging battle axes to cleave his foe in two.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Two to hit rolls- (1d20+5)[*23*] and (1d20+5)[*25*] to hit, (1d8+3)[*6*] and (1d8+3)[*11*] damage, with (1d8)[*6*] in case of a crit.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Versus the Babau*

A flash of psionics and magic fails to topple Faedryl's opponent over, but knocks the babau off balance long enough to give Sarith the opening he needs to slip past and through the illusory wall. Beyond it is an excavated tunnel, leading to their secret ambush positions.

He thrusts his blade forward, where Alaulure is lying on her back trying to use the wall to get up. The side of her head has an acid burn sizzling in her hair, and a trail of red potion is dribbling down her chin. Even in her addled state, she's able to raise her rapier and fence away Sarith's weapon, but she's too visibly worn down to wield her tongue to insult him over it.

Pulling herself from the ground, Alaulure grabs a small seed from her belt pouch and sets it between her teeth. The opening gives Sarith a chance to strike - but his strike comes too slow. There is a suction sound as Alaulure seems to distort into a single point in space, where she cracks the seed between her teeth, and vanishes.

*Derendil's Stand*

With the other quaggoth now distracted, Derendil is able to afford more attention to the elite warrior. Two lunges from his shortsword both fail to connect.

*Secret Stool*

Coughing on the cloud of spores, the drow covers his mouth with one arm and, with the other, lands a deadly stab on Stool. One which does not pierce down to his core.

*In the Walls*

The two battle axes rip into the scout, who falls at Borthan's feet, unconscious from the shock of the likely lethal injuries. 

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Magic Missile on the Babau for *6* damage.
Sarith Dashes past, and attacks Alaulure, but misses in spite of her Prone state.
Borthan hits Drow Scout A for *6*, then a *17* crit, downing him.

Drow Elite attacks Derendil twice, missing both.
Alaulure stands, and uses a magic seed, which provokes from Sarith. Unfortunately, he rolls a 1, and she vanishes.
Drow Warrior takes *3* damage from Stool's spores, then hits Stool for *8* damage.

Derendil is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 17/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil slashes and tears at the elite, trying to get blows in past it's defenses.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*15*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*8*] damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Versus the Babau*

Drawing his shortsword, the scout now finding himself in the heat of the melee takes a swipe at Faedryl. Though she is too chained up to defend herself properly, his weapon strikes her chain shirt which absorbs and disperses the impact, doing its job and keeping her blood on the inside.

*Derendil's Stand*

Time seems to slow down between the two combatants as Derendil's claw nears the elf's face. Leaning back, the drow makes a swipe with the flat of his blade, deflecting the claw with mere inches to spare before his nose would have been shaved off.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil attacks the Drow Elite. After Bless is a hit, forcing him to use his reaction to Parry it.

Drow Scout B makes an attack at Faedryl, but she evades it despite Advantage from her Restraints.

Nilvae, Stool and Eyegore are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## Spore

[QUOTE=Spore;25303483]


*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 9/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

As her gaze pierces the darkness, Nilvae sees the wizard cornered. In yet another incredibly stupid move, she teleports in and unleashes a calvalcade of fey nonsense. You see Nilvae pulling down the pants of a brown-haired man, in her left hand a tiny wire cutter. Her smile is gleeful. You blink, and in the next vision you see a dismembered thing that once was a man surrounded by a swarm of squirrels. Each of those cute critters has blood around its mouth and buck teeth, as they indulge in eating the corpse.

Eyegore protests, but ultimatively decides to 'duel' the quaggoth for now.

*Spoiler*
Show

Misty Step in; use Fey Presence to frighten everyone. I advice not to use attack rolls if you fail the check. DC 14 Wis save or be frightened.
(1d20+5)[*7*] (1d4+3)[*5*] DC 13 dex or be blinded.






*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 16/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (6 tHP) 
Concentration: - 

Stool continues his fight with the two drow in the hidden bowels of the tunnel system.

*Spoiler*
Show

(1d20+5)[*6*]
(1d8+3)[*8*] + (1d4)[*1*] + (1d6)[*5*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*Versus the Babau*

Flashing into Alaulure's tent, Nilvae peeks out underneath the fabric and conjures a series of startling fey illusions to baffle their foes. The drow and babau are startled, while Faedryl - also caught in the illusion - picks out the oddities for what they are.

*"Fey trickery,"* the babau snarls, casting a look all around it. The demon locks eyes with Sarith, and sniffs, then displays a haunting grin. *"I would remember your face. But you will die without my help, elf."* It does not elaborate on its ominous prediction. Pulling away, the demon drags Faedryl behind him, making a run for the west gate of the camp. As it passes by, Topsy lands a strike on the side of the demon which causes a rippling boom. For once, the wound has a visible effect on it, the fleeing demon clutching its side as it flees with their drow companion in tow.

*Derendil's Stand*

Lashing out at the quaggoth in the darkness, Eyegore has to swerve out of the way to avoid being swatted away from its face. 

*Secret Stool*

A swipe of Stool's club goes wide, as the drow backsteps out of the way.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae Misty Steps into the tent and uses Fey Presence, Frightening Drow Scout B and Babau.
Eyegore attacks Quaggoth, but misses.
Stool attacks Drow Warrior C, but misses.

Quaggoth misses Eyegore twice, due to Disadvantage.
Babau Dashes, opening the west gate and fleeing out. It eats an AoO from Topsy's arcane-enhanced dagger that deals *10* damage. Sarith may also make an AoO if he wishes.

Faedryl, Sarith and Borthan are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Alaulure - 14
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
3 of 3 d10 HD.
Death Saves- 2 pass

Borthan takes a moment to put the drow out of it's misery, then turns to Jimjar. "I'll disguise as him. You go out there as my prisoner. We try to get the jump on the mean looking drow. What are our odds?" He gives a weak grin, body bleeding badly, then reached into his gear and removed the simple wand he'd been given, ready to enhance his durability. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Use two attacks to put the drow out of it's misery. Move back to Jimjar. Draw the wand of false life. Hatch a hairbrained scheme.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 11/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

There was no use arguing with demons, and this slave of her sister wouldn't listen no matter how eloquent her words, so she doesn't bother, instead trying to force the monster away from her with first a shove, and then another blast of her magic - the last she had in reserves, for now at least.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* TK Shove the Babau, potentially breaking the restrain if it works like that? (1d20)[*8*]+StrMod vs DC14.
*Move:* If it does shove and does break the restrain, she'll move away (after the sneak attack shot)
*Action:* Last Magic Missile (1d4+1)[*5*]*3=15 force damage






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Sarith tuts quietly when the burned Melad vanishes, but takes some solace in the fact that she would be suffering worse than if she'd simply died. He very much doubts the matron mothers would look kindly upon this utter failure of an ambush that she was forced to flee from with her tail tucked between her legs. No, death here would have been a mercy for her, one she should have accepted instead of prolonging the pain. Slaying their demon pet would only add to that, and the others seemed to have the situation well enough in hand, so absent his initial prey he moves after Faedryl, trading his blade for his heavy crossbow. It was a quick shot, no time to prepare, but a landed blow would hurt just the same no matter how much time he took on it. 




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Disengage.
*Move:* As Map.
*Action:* Fire a heavy crossbow bolt at the Babau. (1d20+8)[*23*] *Damage:* (1d10+6)[*14*]+(1d6)[*4*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*On the Run*

Dragged behind the demon by its magical bindings, Faedryl attempts to shove it away, or blast it with magic. But the bindings cause a searing pain in the back of her head when she tries to call upon her magic, causing her to lose focus and the spell to dissolve back into the Weave. Sarith's shot comes from behind, sailing over her and striking the demon in the back.

The babau reaches back with one arm to snap off the bolt, looking for somewhere to drag his prey. Twisting to the side, it avoids a crackling blue freeze ray from Turvy's attempt to slow it down.

*In the Camp*

Reaching down, Topsy grabs a second dagger from the fallen drow warrior, taking a pair of swipes at the panicked and cornered scout. But he jerks around both strikes, hands trembling and feet moving faster than he can think.


With Nilvae nowhere in sight, her donkey brays and bucks around in a panic. Stumbling into the quaggoth in the dark, it flails its hooves at the hulking beast, clobbering it in the side.

From beside him, Derendil feels a non-hostile touch, and healing magic floods into him, leaving him feeling vigorous and refreshed. "Stay stromg, my frenbd. I musd helb the odders!" the fishman's nasally voice announces as he shuffles towards the other end of camp. A larger figure takes his place, equally as large as Derendil.

With a war cry, Ront slams a skull-encased fist into the elite drow soldier's face, knocking him back and leaving a trail of blood running from his nose. The drow regains his composure in time to duck around an arm slam coming at him from the side.

Bearing a look of wounded pride, the elite attempts to flee, pushing out through the side of the tent flap and risking leaving his back open. Derendil and Ront both strike him as he flees, and he crawl-runs back to his feet.

*Secret Stool*

Another blow of the shortsword clatters off of Stool's bucket helmet, leaving a nick on its surface. The drow coughs and hacks on the cloud of spores, standing weakly now.

*In the Walls*

*"You know I'm always down for a gambit,"* Jimjar looks back at Borthan with a grin, then peeks out of the illusory wall to take stock of the battle. *"That 'blighter's darkness is still everywhere. I can't tell if we're winning, but I can still hear fighting- oh, he's running this way."* 

Raising his hand crossbow, Jimjar takes a shot from the inside of the hidden alcove. The arrow pierces the drow's leg, and he takes a few more steps before slumping to the ground. *"Got 'im. He's out cold, Bort."*

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl's Shove is resisted. She attempts to cast Magic Missile, but the spell fizzles out and is lost to the Soul Snare.
Sarith shoots the Babau for a *9* damage sneak attack, after Resistance.
Borthan executes Drow Scout A.

Turvy casts Ray of Frost at the Babau, but misses.
Topsy grabs a second dagger and attacks Drow Scout B twice, but misses.
Jimjar Readies an action to poisoned shot anything approaching the hidden alcove.
Dr. Donk attacks Quaggoth twice, hitting with an 'offhand' hoof for *2* damage.
Shuushar casts Cure Wounds, healing Derendil for *11*.
Ront attacks Drow Elite twice, hitting once for *8* damage.

Drow Elite attempts to flee. He gets hit for *10* and *9* from Ront and Derendil, then runs into Jimjar's overwatch. He takes *5* more damage and fully fails to resist the poison, passing out.
Drow Warrior C takes *8* damage from the Halo of Spores, and misses his attack on Stool. He is nearly down from the passive damage aura.

Derendil is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 20/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil, watching the drow elite fall unconscious and the other quaggoth fall to donkey kicks, feels the rush of battle leave him even as Shushar's healing magic sealed his wounds. Derendil blinked, got a hold of himself, and bumbled his way after Faedryl, still dazed from his homicidal inclinations. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Move and Dash.

----------


## RandomWombat

*In the Camp*

Leaving the quaggoth behind in the dark, Derendil rushes away to the aid of Faedryl. A nick of its claw catches him on his way out, but nothing he can't take.

He passes by Topsy, who deflects a panicked blow from her opponent with her bracer.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Derendil Dashes away, taking a *3* damage AoO after Resistance.

Drow Scout B misses Topsy.

Nilvae, Eyegore and Stool are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## RandomWombat

*On the Run*

Glaring back at its pursuers, the babau winds up and backhands Faedryl, sending her keeling to the ground with a nasty stripe of red, irritated skin from the brief contact with its acid. The demon leans forward over her body, slumped in the spectral chains like a cradle, and points at the rest of the group with a crooked finger.

*"Hold! Strike me down now, and my corpse will fall upon her, burning her with my acid, making your efforts pointless. And I will simply take a month's vacation to the Abyss before returning to wreak bloody vengeance on the survivors..."* the demon threatens, its face a mixture of desperate and furious as it is forced to beg and negotiate. *"You have victory today, but the Melad comes with me. If you want her back safely, come to Arravann."*

*In the Camp*

Stepping out of the tent, Nilvae produces another enchanted pebble from her pocket and hurls it over Topsy, striking the drow scout in the chest and causing him to grunt in pain.

The quaggoth lost in the dark has to shield his eyes from Eyegore's titular gouging claws, receiving raking scratches down his arms. With a snarl, the quaggoth swings both arms in a wide sweep that flings Eyegore several feet away into the hard stone, where he puffs into a cloud of black ash, vanishing back to the feywild... for now.

*Secret Stool*

In his coughing fit, the drow cannot muster the strength to resist as Stool delivers an uppercut right between the legs, sending the poor elf falling over sideways and opening up the path. The inside of this hidden tunnel seems to be a drow supply cache, with several boxes stacked around. Stool waddles towards the one-way illusory wall, see-through on this side, where the continued sounds of fighting are coming from.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae casts Magic Stone, clonking Drow Scout for *5* damage.
Eyegore gouges Quaggoth for *4* damage.
Stool smacks Drow Warrior C for *13* damage and a KO.

Quaggoth strikes Eyegore for *4* damage, banishing the sprite.
Babau knocks Faedryl out with a non-lethal hit for *12* damage, then moves over her to use his own corpse as a threat.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 0/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl is unconscious.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

There were so many holes in the demon's plan Sarith didn't know where to start, and perhaps he didn't need to. That he hadn't simply killed Faedryl and instead wanted to leave with her said he wanted her alive, at least. Small chance of him finishing her off if a 'vacation' indeed was what he looked forward to in the hells, and no real surprise that the other Melads wanted Faedryl alive, for now at least. *"Counteroffer: Start running and maybe you outrun my crossbow."* With a distinct lack of visible care for Faedryl's safety, he draws another bolt and releases it with the telltale _k-thunk_ of the powerful weapon.




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* None.
*Move:* As Map.
*Action:* Fire a heavy crossbow bolt at the Babau. (1d20+8)[*12*] *Damage:* (1d10+4)[*10*]. No sneak attack because Faedryl's unconscious.

----------


## RandomWombat

*On the Run*

With fiendish alacrity, the babau spots the bolt coming in the dark and twitches to the side, out of the way. It sails past, far out of view and skitters along the stone out in the black. Turvy follows the others' lead and fires a bolt of ice magic that goes wide, failing to predict the demon's dodge. *"Shouldn't be surprised your kind would care nothing for a captive, even a female,"* despite its mocking tone, there is clear panic in the babau's voice, the demon scrambling to buy time with banter so it can come up with something else.

*In the Camp*

Taking up the longbow and quiver from the felled scout, Borthan moves forward to the end of the tunnel, preparing to go out into the fray once more - what is left of it. His wounds still ache, a dull reminder of mortality.

Jimjar sneaks out of the hidden alcove, loading up a new bolt and bringing it to bear. He sends an unexpected bolt straight into the back of the quaggoth, locked in a brawl with Nilvae's panicked donkey, which yowls with feral fury. The quaggoth is still up, and has the frenzied eyes of a cornered animal. In the midst of its last stand, Ront unceremoniously knocks it on the back of the head, and it slumps over like a sack of concrete.

Rolling his shoulders, the orc trudges towards the next fight.


On the other side of the camp, Topsy manages to land a glancing blow against the scout, who is barely clinging to consciousness in the face of mounting blood loss. Shuushar passes by with a quick blessing, his touch making the gnome girl flinch as if expected an attack from behind. But instead a thin barrier shields her on the fishman's way out of the gates.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith misses the Babau with a heavy bolt.
Borthan gets bow, and moves towards the tunnel exit.

Turvy misses badly with another Ray of Frost.
Topsy misses one attack, but lands an offhand on Drow Scout B for *2*.
Jimjar bonus action Hides, then pops Quaggoth with a *14* damage Sneak Attack.
Dr. Donk bonks Quaggoth for *4* damage, just shy of a KO.
Shuushar casts Vigor on Topsy, giving her *5* thp.
Ront hits the Quaggoth for *8* damage, finally taking it down and leaving it dying.

Two Drow Warriors stabilize, but insodoing no longer have a chance to get back up.

Derendil is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool/Familiars* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 17/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil stomps after the demon and Faedryl, reaching for it's wand. It flicks it at the two of them, and drowsiness sinks like a fog over them, attempting to knock out the demon. Then Derendil rushes forward and attempts to get Faedryl away from the sizzling acid. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Not sure if this thing can be put to sleep, but we'll see. It affects (5d8)[*28*] HP, and it should ignore Faedryl since she's already "sleeping." Move up to the two of them, and if the demon is KO'ed Derendil will attempt to extricate Faedryl.

----------


## RandomWombat

*On the Run*

The quaggoth prince's spell takes hold, catching the demon by surprise. Any plots brewing in its head dissolve into oblivion as it falls over. Acting quickly, Derendil snatches up the spear, which allows him to shift Faedryl easily out of the way of the collapsed babau. Dragging her with the magical chains, she feels almost weightless.

The weapon is still attached to the babau's vambrace by another chain, but that will not be a problem for long.

*In the Camp*

Taking his shortsword in both hands, the drow thrusts forwards in a blow that would have shoved it through Topsy's torso, had Shuushar's magic barrier not sent it skidding to the side as it shattered, leaving a much less mortal slice behind.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Discord is down at the moment, so I rolled in roll20.

Derendil casts Sleep, knocking out the Babau. Applied his use object action to pick up the spear, the easiest way to move Faedryl.

Drow Scout B hits Topsy for a maximum *9* damage, but she stays up thanks to Shuushar's cantrip.

Nilvae and Stool are up! Since the Babau and Quaggoth are both unconscious, Sarith and Borthan can act as well.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

*Borthan* - 22

Drow Elite - 21
Drow Warriors - 14

*Derendil* - 12

Drow Scouts - 12

*Nilvae/Stool* - 10.5

Quaggoth - 9
Babau - 9

Turvy - 8
Topsy - Delayed
*Faedryl/Sarith* - 7.5
Jimjar - 6
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 6
Shuushar - 6
Ront - 4

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
3 of 3 d10 HD.
5 Temp HP

Borthan moves back into the chamber where most of the fighting occurred and continued his grim work. He saw two dead drow and one dying drow, and after a few swings of his axes he meant to leave three dead drow in his wake. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Rolling to hit the drow elite twice with advantage. (1d20+5)[*8*] or (1d20+5)[*7*] to hit, and (1d8+3)[*7*] damage. Second attack (1d20+5)[*19*] or (1d20+5)[*23*] to hit, and (1d8+3)[*6*] damage. (1d8)[*6*] in case of a crit. Object interaction to kick his blades away just in case he gets up after this and kills Bort.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 0/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl is unconscious.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Though his first shot misses, Sarith raises his heavy crossbow again for another shot, but when Derendil's spell wraps the demon in sleep and Faedryl is dragged away, there's no need. The creature would be down for the better part of a minute if it was anything like he'd seen before. While he'd like to finish off the demon, the sounds of fighting continued elsewhere which meant his personal brand of extreme skill, efficiency and general drow supremacy would be needed. He leaves his crossbow to one side, and leaves the demon to Derendil's preparations, instead moving to recover his hand crossbow. There was at least one foe still standing, so he quickly draws back a poisoned bolt and looses it at the man, before streaming past back to the tent to conceal himself and ready a better shot. 




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Cunning Action: Dash.
*Object Interaction:*  Recover his hand crossbow
*Move:* Into position to shoot at Drow Scout B, then into the tent for hiding purposes.
*Action:* Fire a poison bolt at Drow Scout B. (1d20+8)[*15*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*10*]+(1d6)[*5*]
Con save vs. Poison: (1d20)[*7*]+mods

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 13 HP: 23/23| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Surprised the fighting actually LEFT her instead of focussing on her, Nilvae stands there, following the fight, pelting the demon since Puck's magic is one of the few things they have in their possession that can truly hurt demons.

*Spoiler*
Show

Follow up and throw more stones. (1d20+6)[*9*] (1d6+4)[*6*]





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 16/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity (4 tHP) 
Concentration: - 

Stool appears outside in the most heroic fashion he can muster. Waddling with a giant club covered in feces, blood and maybe a bit of brain, he engages Borthan's enemy and engulfs them in a cloud of spores.

*Spoiler*
Show

(1d20+5)[*9*] melee for (1d8+3)[*10*] damage plus necrotic Halo (2d4)[*8*] (Con 13 to negate) plus Poison (1d6)[*5*]

----------


## RandomWombat

Borthan swings both of his axes down, sinking them into the elite's chest. The drow's eyes flash open and he reaches up to grab Stool's club before it can impact him, the little mushroom toddling out from inside of the tent. Thankfully, Jimjar grabs a shortsword from the ground and strikes the elite with the pommel, knocking him back out - soon to bleed to death if left unattended.

Moving back into camp, Sarith looses a bolt as he passes, which sticks into the scout's gut after his exposed lunge at Topsy. The other drow man collapses on the ground, as much from injury as from poison.

Meanwhile, Shuushar hurries over and casts his healing magic, bringing Faedryl back into the realm of consciousness.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan autocrits with his first swing for *15*, and the second hits for *10* (you forgot your Ranger bonus damage vs humanoids).
Sarith shoots Drow Scout B for *15* damage, taking him down.
Nilvae hurls a magic stone, which misses the prone babau.
Stool misses Drow Elite even with Prone Adv and Bless, and his aura is resisted.

Jimjar picks up a shortsword from a dead drow zombie and takes down the Drow Elite's last couple HP with an attack.
Shuushar heals Faedryl for *9*.

Combat has ended.


With all of their foes taken down, the group is left with run of the camp. There is a crunching sound as Mr. Spide, having shifted back when everyone scattered elsewhere, sinks his fangs into the fallen quaggoth to drink his fill.

Topsy leans against the barricade wall, dagger still in hand, and calls out, "Are we taking anyone for questioning?"

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 6/29
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
3 of 3 d10 HD.
5 Temp HP

"'Spose we should. As much as I'd like to execute every last one of these bushwhacking bastards, they might have some answers for Faedryl." Borthan hauls the drow elite up, doing his best to tie a tourniquet over it's wounds and prevent it's death. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+2)[*13*] Medicine to save the drow elite. Might need Shushar for this one, but what the hell why not try?


*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 20/26
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil looks down at Faedryl and offers a hand to haul her up to her feet. "It is good to see that my spell worked. I didn't know if it would be effective against a demon of the pits. Welcome back to the world of the living."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 9/22
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl's eyes flutter open as the healing washes over her. The dip into mindlessness was brief, she judged, simply because she hadn't moved far, though further than she'd like. The kua-toan spell hadn't fixed everything, she still ached, but she wasn't bleeding and a quick hand-review of her face registered that her appearance was unlikely to suffer permanent damage, for that seemed to be her first priority in her newly awoken state. A moment passes though and she tunes her mind to the external - the sounds of fighting were dying down and a hand was being offered to her to stand. She catches the tail-end of Derendil's words only, but it's enough to grasp the situation, and grasp his hand. She doesn't refuse as he helps her to her feet, the demon asleep at her feet.

"Good work," she says. It wasn't thanks - not quite, she's still struggling with that, but praise must surely substitute in this sort of moment? "It's a dangerous weapon." She gestures at the spear. "It's good you got a hold of it before we sent the demon back to the hells." More awkward praise. She's quietly thankful when the question of prisoners comes up as a distraction. "The demon's too dangerous to capture, we should finish it off first, then see what Lulu's subordinates can tell us, if anything. Fret not Borthan, we can execute them after questioning." They'd be flayed, killed, and fed to the spiders for their failure if they returned to drow society - in that order if they were lucky. The least they could offer them was a quick death. It wouldn't be painless, but it was a much preferable alternative, and there was no way they could take prisoners with them if they even wanted to, which she doubts very much.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/23
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Sarith is quietly doubtful that the captured, drow _or_ demon, have any information that they hadn't already gleaned from the fight. He'd rather slit the throats, strip them of what they have, and then be off immediately, but ultimately he'd listen, and he'd follow. As always. He'd been ready to bet her life a moment ago without a second thought, but now that she was awake, he'd fallen back into obedience, lockstep in a moment. His nostrils flared. *"I'll see what the bodies have,"* he mutters, though stays nearby for the purpose of demon-execution first.

----------


## RandomWombat

Using some cloth to pack the elite's wounds, Borthan is at least able to keep him from immediately bleeding out. The group's muscle assembles the dead, Sarith methodically stripping them down and arranging the loot. Ront and Jimjar drag the prisoners into their storage room and tie them up, out of the way. In total there are a few warriors, a scout, and the drow elite officer.

As a group, they gather their magical weapons and execute the peacefully slumbering demon. As a higher ranking demon, it takes some time before his corpse starts to dissolve into primordial goop, but there is still quite a bit of acid coating and blood to clean off of his magical equipment before it can be handled safely. Turvy takes to the task using a simple prestidigitation cantrip.

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

In addition to what they found earlier in the footlocker, the group loots the following:

*Spoiler: Tents*
Show

75gp worth of loose coinage
6 Bedrolls
3 Blankets
2 sets of high quality Spider Silk Bedsheets, which Faedryl is appraises as worth a good 50 gold each to the right buyer
1 Unidentified Wand found in one of the footsoldiers' bedrolls
4 sets of High-Quality Climbing Gear, including spider silk rope and mithril grappling hooks; worth 350 gp each (gives Advantage on Athletics checks to climb)

*Spoiler: Drow Warriors and Zombies*
Show

6 Shortswords
6 Daggers
3 Hand Crossbows
30 bolts
3 Chain Shirts
3 sets of Leather Armor

*Spoiler: Drow Scouts*
Show

2 Longbows (Borthan has already obtained one)
21 arrows, 4 Drow Poisoned Arrows (Taken by Borthan)
2 Shortswords (One taken by Jimjar)
2 Daggers (Taken by Topsy)
2 sets of Leather Armor


*Spoiler: Drow Elite*
Show

55 gp
1 Shortsword (taken by Topsy)
1 Dagger
1 Hand Crossbow (taken by Jimjar)
10 bolts, 3 Drow Poisoned Bolts (taken by Jimjar)
1 Shield (Ront claims it to replace his destroyed one)
1 set of Studded Leather Armor
1 Healing Potion (taken by Ront)

*Spoiler: Quaggoth*
Show

1 pair of cloth footwraps covered in Halfling script, which detect as magical

*Spoiler: Supply Cache*
Show

30 servings of drow Trail Rations, which include dried mushrooms and salted cave lizard jerky
A barrel of fresh water
A cask of drow wine, worth 120 gp; a touch of spider venom gives it its kick, but overindulging is not recommended
2 Collapsible Barricades (as well as the 3 already set up); able to expand up to 30 feet on either side, with pitons to secure it to cave walls
5 Drow Poisoned Arrows
5 Drow Poisoned Bolts

*Spoiler: Babau*
Show

1 magical Spear, with a black spearhead and Abyssal runes upon the haft
1 magical left-arm Vambrace, decorated in Dwarven style
*Spoiler: History: Vambrace*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

A vambrace is the armor used to protect the upper arm forearm. Technically this includes the pauldron, part of the shoulder armor.


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

This armor's style and quality suggests that it once belonged to a dwarven officer or noble.


*Spoiler: DC 18*
Show

A set of dwarven runes on the outer edge of the pauldron indicate the family name of Marbleblood. This is the left vambrace (and pauldron) of General Auguster Marbleblood, a famed dwarven general who fought against the armies of Menzoberranzan in the armies of Gauntlgrym. After the war he remained behind with Gauntlgrym's allies in Blingdenstone, which took the brunt of the fighting, and assisted in their recovery.

When Menzoberranzan later retaliated with a sudden vengeful attack that saw Blingdenstone sacked and left in a state of ruin, General Auguster was slain in the fighting and his armor taken as a prize by drow officers and their matrons.


1 Seed of Escape, connected to a corrupted dryad's tree in Melad Manor

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 15/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

With the demon dead, they were safe - for now, and the loss of the babau would keep him gone for a month or longer. Hopefully enough time to be out of the Underdark, but certainly plenty of time to put space between him and them if he did get resummoned to the Material. She peers around Derendil as the quaggoth inspects the vambrace - and surprisingly recognises it. "I've seen this before, the full set at least." She remarks. "It belonged to a dwarf general - Auguster Marbleblood, but was lost when he was killed in a drow attack on Blingdstone. He was pretty famous on both sides of the fighting. Hero to some, and a pain in the neck for the drow. They paraded his head through the streets after he was killed, or so I heard." She hadn't been to see it herself. Trading pointless blows with the dwarves and gnomes wasn't interesting to her, but she had seen his armour collected after the fact. "I don't know if it's true but rumour has it a pathomancer bought the head and reanimated it for their experiments on harnessing rage as an energy source." It was more than likely false, mind you. She expected it was either childish gossip or deliberate information spread by agents of Menzoberranzan to get a response from their enemies, put them off balance and upset them. She remarks on it with a casual tone, sharing the facts of his supposed defilement as one might discuss the latest butcher's prices. It wasn't as if getting angry about it would change his situation at this point.

Instead, she focuses on the more pressing task - deducing the nature of the magical items they'd attained. The spear was of course of significant interest, but the footwraps holding halfling script were an unusual. Perhaps recovered from a surface raid?



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Ritual Casting *Comprehend Languages* to decipher the abyssal and halfling script along with working on identifying the items not currently deduced.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 25/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Demon now dispatched and having sorted through the treasure trove, Sarith settles in to watching the unconscious drow, weapon held at the ready should they be feigning or otherwise plotting an escape. Not that it seems likely. He taps one in the face with his boot and they don't respond, not even when he wipes mud from his sole off on their cheek. Unlikely a drow would suffer such an indignity without any response, he judges.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae approaches the captive drow. She moves her hand in a weird way, pulling silvery strands through the air. She finally responds. How secure do we want the information to be? There's this trick I wanted to try. But I know my master. This could get ugly. 

*Spoiler*
Show

Offering to cast Silvery Barbs if the drow resists the Detect Thoughts spell of Stool, and give myself advantage in the following Persuasion attempt.





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 24/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool waddles to the others, slightly weakened as he disperses his spore cloud. You can see cuts in blue and green hues, quickly turning a sickly brown in its 'flesh'. Finally, to Sarith, it hums in his head. Stool can detect this one's thoughts, can tell by licking his sweat. Lie or truth, Stool can taste his mind. Is enchantment, can fail.

*Spoiler*
Show

Offering to go Detect Thoughts.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 16 HP: 14/37
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
4 of 4 d10 HD.
5 Temp HP

Borthan, bleeding heavily and breathing hard, goes through the pile of loot. He takes half the arrows, being particularly careful with the poisoned ones, and assembles a hearty quiver. He takes a few moments to look over the drow longbows. Strange weapons to have, down here in the dark, but with a faster draw than a crossbow it could output more firepower in skilled hands. Borthan was not as gifted with a bow as with a blade, and this bow was not the one he carved himself. That was left behind at the drow prison. But it would do.

After he was done equipping himself, Borthan ran his fingers over the spear. He'd always wanted a magic weapon, but he wasn't foolish. He'd atleast let the mages check it out first. He'd also always heard stories of foolish warriors getting themselves a cursed weapon and dying because of it. 




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 20/32
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 

Derendil intoned a ritual to garner more information from the items they'd found. He never thought an identify spell would be all that useful, but he suddenly wish he'd chosen that over the ability to summon an invisible servant. With eyes glowing with the light of the weave, he began to sort through the items with Faedryl, trying to discern their purpose.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Detect magic, comprehend languages, or both.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 24/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

With no protest or agreement, Stool waddles over to the unconscious drow and tastes the air around his head, hoping to glean some information from the drow's mind and dreams.

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting Detect Thoughts.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Surveying the Spoils*

Faedryl and Derendil gather the magic items in the command tent, laying them out on the spacious 'floor' to examine them. Stepping inside after seeing his badly wounded sister safely to Shuushar's triage, Turvy sits down with them. "I um... I have identification magic, if you need me to check anything for curses," he offers, looking pointedly at the eerie demonic spear.

As they go about their various rituals, Borthan walks in from collecting ammunition.

*Spoiler: The Examination*
Show

Turvy has 3 first level slots left, and 2 second level slots, as well as enough time to cast Identify as a ritual up to 3 times. Depending how many slots you want in reserve for the rest of the day, he can identify several of these items more definitively, as well as take note of any curses that may be hiding.
Each character can also partially identify one magic item over the short rest.

As for the information Detect Magic and Comprehend Languages gives you:

Unidentified Green Potions: Transmutation Aura
Magical Silk Lingerie: Evocation Aura
Zurkhwood Flute: Non-magical
Unidentified Wand: Transmutation Aura
Cloth Footwraps: Transmutation and Abjuration Aura; text reads in Halfling script _"Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man"_
Magical Spear: Necromancy Aura; text reads in Abyssal runes _"Both'tath, cursed be, 'til one thousand souls devour thee"_; upon the blade of the weapon, a single Abyssal marking glimmers, only visible under Detect Magic: the number *977*.
General Marbleblood's Vambrace: Conjuration and faint Abjuration Aura; the latter aura feels incomplete rather than weak, perhaps a power only afforded to the full set of armor; Dwarven runes upon the pauldron mark it with the name Marbleblood, leaving no doubt to its origins


*An Inward Interrogation*

Lips curling in amusement, Ront stands over the prisoners with his arms folded, watching Sarith wipe mud on one of their faces. A brutish chuckle rumbles in his chest. Crawling over the crates and boxes of supplies, Mr. Spide remains ever in view, clearly not eager to let the donkey back out. Both of them observe as Nilvae and Stool set about 'interrogating' the elite drow soldier, the myconid using his spores and innate telepathy to peer into his unconscious thoughts.

*Spoiler: Detect Thoughts*
Show

The drow drifts through a haze of unconsciousness. Flickers of thought flash and pulsate, rippling through the thoughtspace like sparks along fungal hyphae.

An indistinct image, blurry and difficult to make out, imprints itself upon Stool's mind. A voice is speaking. Most of it is nonsense, babbling dream language that spirals off into oblivion if focused on for too long, like a verbal fractal. But some words come through... *Deliver. Instead. Faedryl.*

*Spoiler: Stool Perception*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

The voice is female.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

A glint around the eyes of the female figure suggests that she is wearing glasses.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

She is in a study. Sitting at a desk. There are shelves around them full of different colors. Books.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

I say checking anything you have the time for, Turvy. Nilvae nods as she grapples with her new-found magic powers. A slint tingle of panic appears as she casts light on a stone, and the color wildly varies. Uh...anyone know if the spell is supposed to do that?

Nevertheless, aside from relaxing a bit, Nilvae looks for some makeshift stuff to call back Eyegore again. These drow are always conjuring up some weird stuff. Why do they never CARRY around ritual components?



*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 24/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

The small myconid waddles towards Faedryl and makes its voice appear in her head. You are replacement prey. Catched instead. Commanding woman has glasses and books. Maybe smart? Stool "looks" at Faedryl expectantly.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 15/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

Faedryl ruminates for a moment. While she's not adept in identification magic - elves have all the time in the world, and typically do not bother with such expeditious uses of magical energy - she's familiar with it. She doesn't much fancy spending more time than necessary investigating the curses, and if it got them moving from the site of the battlefield faster, it might be worth it even if it left Turvy somewhat drained for any more fights before their next sleep - or trance, in Faedryl and Sarith's case. "If you could accelerate the identification of these," she points at the spear first - curses were unpleasant to deal with, worse when you didn't know what they were - then the footwraps and the vambrace. "and then rituals on everything but the potions, I think we should have everything covered." She pauses, realising that she should probably acknowledge their use. 'Thank' them. "This is most helpful of you." It's still clumsy, but sincere at least.

Stool's interjection from its...unorthodox interrogation technique is somewhat confusing, but whatever it did to extract the information was probably not all that clear to begin with. "A 'replacement' prey?" She ponders. "Ritual sacrifices aren't particularly rare, but I'm not aware of any that were particularly imminent. I'm not sure what else my family would want me for as a 'replacement' other than that. Even more a sacrifice where the primary choice was also lost." She might be reading too much into the word choice, of course. What would Mother want to sacrifice Faedryl to, exactly? Lolth? Or some new demon - something more potent than the babau that trailed behind Lulu like a particularly vicious puppy.

----------


## RandomWombat

Kneeling down before the assembled objects, Turvy sets down a pouch of components. Beginning with the feather of an owl, he brushes the feathers feathers along each object in turn. Taking a pearl from his components, he holds it above the magical spear, beginning first with it. Spreading his fingers apart into the shape of a rectangular viewing lens, the pearl floats between them on its own, gleaming with a soft yellow light.

Going through the process twice, Turvy identifies both the spear and the footwraps. Relaying what he's learned, he begins a more lengthy ritual upon each of the remaining magical items - sans the potions, which are left for someone else to appraise.

*Spoiler: Identifications*
Show

*Spoiler: Both'tath, the Spear of Soul Snares*
Show

Once, the mighty Nabassu demon Both'tath served as an agent of Doresain, King of Ghouls. That demon _is_ now this spear, having been transformed by Lolth herself for... _some reason_. Who can say what plot the Queen of Spiders was weaving at the time. Perhaps it was merely a joke?

Both'tath will remain imprisoned in the form of the spear until it absorbs one thousand souls, as per Lolth's curse. At that point, presumably, he shall be freed. The spear has currently absorbed 977 souls.

*Item Effects*
The Spear of Soul Snares is a +1 Spear. It absorbs a soul from creatures it slays; only one soul, should the creature happen to have multiple. A carried Soul Token will protect the carrier from the spear's trapping effects... but not from dying. That still happens.
A creature whose soul was absorbed by Both'tath can only be brought back with a Wish spell.

By Attuning to the spear, the wielder gains the following effects:
-The spear is Cursed, and cannot be unattuned without the intervention of a Remove Curse spell. If left behind for a period of 1 hour, the spear will teleport next to its attuned wielder.
-If the attuened wielder fails to feed at least one soul to the spear each day, they must pass a DC 13 Sanity save or be overcome with bloodlust until they kill a creature and ensnare its soul for the spear. The wielder can promise the spear two souls on the next day to stave off this effect. If they fail to keep their bargain, their next save against the spear is at Disadvantage.
-A target hit by the spear must make a DC 13 Dex save or be Restrained by spectral chains formed out of the souls imprisoned within; a Restrained target may attempt to free themselves as an action on their turn, with a DC 13 Athletics check. While Restrained, the target must succeed a DC 13 Concentration check to cast or maintain spells. The Restrained target is moved with the spear when it moves, as if they were light as a feather; the chains are broken if the spear teleports back to its attuned wielder.


*Spoiler: Footwraps of Delicious Retreat*
Show

Famed halfling arcane thief and prankster, Tender Mildmouse, crafted these footwraps to aid him in his endeavors. For them to have fallen into drow hands, his end was surely not a pleasant one. These wraps can be activated by chanting the phrase inscribed upon them: _Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me I'm the gingerbread man_.

*Item Effects*
Does not require Attunement.
-As a bonus action, the attuned wearer chant the command phrase to Dash. During this Dash, they can walk on the surface of liquids, and on walls. This effect can be used up to twice per day.
-While chanting the command phrase and Dashing, the attuned wearer's skin hardens into a tough shell, like a golem made from a sparkling gingerbread cookie. Until the Dash ends, the wearer has Resistance to Piercing, Bludgeoning and Slashing damage from non-magical weapons, and Resistance to any damage from the surface they are walking on. This effect functions while Dashing even if the footwraps' bonus Dashes have been used up for the day.
-The attuned wearer is Vulnerable to Bite attacks. This bypasses any Resistances or Immunities they may have.


*Spoiler: Alaulure's Indestructible Lingerie*
Show

Her name is written on the inside of the hem if you turn it outward.

*Item Effects*
Requires Attunement.
-The attuned wearer regains 1 hit point whenever they take damage. This effect fails if they have 0 hit points remaining.
-Once per day, the attuned wearer may use their reaction to increase the hit points regained after taking damage to 1d8+1.


*Spoiler: General Marbleblood's Left Vambrace*
Show

The full protection of the General's +2 Plate Armor are lost until it is made whole, but each piece on its own carries its own benefit.

*Item Effects*
Does not require Attunement.
-Even without the rest of the armor, the vambrace grants a +1 bonus to AC when used to block. The AC bonus does not stack with a Shield.
-The vambrace contains a pocket space similar to a Bag of Holding containing 60 feet of magical steel chains, which may be attached to a weapon or item the wearer does not wish to lose. The weapon or object cannot be disarmed, and returns to the user after being thrown, but cannot be thrown beyond the length of the chain. The chains weigh nothing while inside the pocket space.
-9 out of 10 wizards recommend not reaching into a Bag of Holding with this hand.


*Spoiler: Squire's Wand*
Show

A simple magical luxury item.

*Item Effects*
-At will, regardless of attunement, the user can clean, heat or chill material as per Prestidigitation.
-At will, regardless of attunement, the user can repair cloth material as per Mending.
-If Attuned, as an action, the attuned wielder can equip, unequip, or swap the armor carried and/or worn by the user and/or a willing target within 5 feet.


And assuming someone else spends an hour identifying at least one of them:
*Spoiler: Potion of Extended Acid Suppression x2*
Show

The imbiber of this potion has damaging acid effects of their body suppressed for 12 hours. Any acid the potion is poured onto or into is neutralized. This kills the ooze.



*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

A drow woman in glasses with books, not the most specific description. But given the context, Faedryl can hazard a guess. Her elder sister Azazzae seems the most likely. Second in line behind their eldest sister Doranesa, Azazzae is intelligent and cunning. There is a reason drow seldom use the term heir apparent - it is too optimistic for the eldest's survival. And Mother has always expected Azazzae would one day kill Doranesa and earn her deserved place. It has not happened yet.

Though Azazzae would be a formidable wizard if she applied herself to the arcane, she - unlike Faedryl - was dissuaded by popular opinion from pursuing such an 'unwomanly' profession. Mens' work, as the drow women like to barb. Instead, she has applied herself to scholarly pursuits of a more mundane nature, proving a shrewd accountant and broker with much wealth and many contacts. She has even obtained her own private abode separate from the Melad Manor, keeping herself comfortably removed from the family intrigue.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

She muses over the identity of the glasses-wearing drow while taking up Lulu's lingerie. What else was family for? Though she makes sure to give them a triple magical clean immediately before even considering wearing them. "At a guess, it's Azi - or should I say, Azazzae - who ordered them out. Not really surprising she's not here herself though, all her strength is in money instead of magic or martial might." Faedryl casually alliterates. "It's a shame she didn't take to the arcane really. I think she might have understood me if she had." Hope lingers in her tone, that perhaps still she - and perhaps some of her other siblings - might listen, that she might be able to convince them. Cynicism lurks in her heart, of course, but her ideals and wishes had carried her this far and she wouldn't abandon the dream.

The spear, however, was the more pressing concern. "If this thing is cursed and holds a powerful demon inside of it then I suggest we be rid of it immediately. Curses aren't to be trifled with and we've got enough problems without adding to them." She pats the stoneshaper wand tucked into her belt. "We can encase it in thick stone thanks to the duergar wand, leave it buried away from enemies or strangers who might come across it. It's not a permanent solution but better than carrying the thing with us or foisting it off on someone else." It is, however, a suggestion still. She doesn't move to take action immediately. Her consideration of others is slow but she lingers to let others get their own votes in - she just hopes they end up agreeing.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show



Faedryl is forced to expend 3 hit dice to heal to full because rolls bad. Between Arcane Recovery and her level up though, she's only got one 1st level slot expended. Otherwise she's fully charged on spells.






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

The spear was powerful. Faedryl must understand this, and yet she suggested ridding them of such a power? Worse still to merely toss it aside and leave it buried? Sarith doesn't understand. So what if it consumed the souls of their enemies? Let them be consumed, it might be better to be fed to the demon than whatever hells awaited them otherwise anyway. But he lacks the conviction to voice this, especially when he wouldn't be the one wielding it. "Let someone else bear the curse!" might be his true feelings, but Sarith at least has enough social graces left to understand why that argument would not go down well, and he has no interest in fighting with a spear rather than his crossbows.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Sarith expends hit dice and second wind to heal to full.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Command Tent*

"I agree. Something like this should be sealed away," Turvy's furtive gaze is set on the spear, as if at any moment it could grow claws and grab at him. The tent flap is pushed aside as Topsy enters, bringing out a few pieces of lizard jerky from her ration pouch and offering one to Turvy. She takes a seat on the smaller cot likely belonging to Alaufaen, perusing their findings. There are bandages around her torso, but the worst of the wounds have been mended with magic rather than medicine.

"So what have we got then? Anything good?"

"Some of it is useful," her brother replies. "But the demon's spear is predictably too dangerous to use..."

"Well, we've finished sorting the stuff we got from the drow. Plenty of supplies for a few days at least, and we restocked our ammo," she draws a new elven shortsword from her belt. "Jimjar and I took these for when we have to get personal. The orc grabbed the healing potion off the pile without really saying much."

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Mundane loot list updated with who took what.


Quickened footsteps can be heard outside, and Jimjar pokes his head into the command tent. *"Look alive folks! I can see lights approaching quickly from the north!"*

*The Supply Cache*

Shuushar shuffles inside, where Ront, Sarith and Spide are overseeing the prisoners. "More trubble on de horizomn. Jimjar has sbotted lights coming."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st
Borthan, slightly skeptically, began cutting rope with his jack knife and attaching it to the heavier and more cumbersome items in their group stash, effectively adding handles to the most difficult things to carry, such as the water.

Borthan approaches Nilvae as her voice rises with a note of panic as her light stone kaleidoscopes. "Your magic has always been weird. Looks like it's getting weirder. Personally I was more worried about the eye gouging monster following you around. Keep it under as much control as you can, point it at the enemy, and I bet you can be a right useful, if unpredictable. Bort slaps Nilvae on the back a little harder than he intended and gave her a crazed smile before moving back over to the newly identified gear. When Nilvae bemoans not finding the components she was looking for, Bort chuckled and called back to her. "Next time we fight a caster I'll do my best to kill him and get you all the secret herbs and spices you need, Fey Crazy."

The others were calling it a vambrace, but to Bort it just looked like heavier armor than he was comfortable with. Hefting the large plate of metal, he inspected the chain system the others had described to him. "Someone want to help me with this? Kind of hard to strap something on by yourself. Derendil, also inexperienced in such armor, looked around to the others before stepping forward and doing his best to buckle the piece of plate onto the ranger. "Thanks, Biggun."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

While Derendil helped Borthan equip the armored vambrace, he kept his attention on the conversation with Faedryl. "If your family has something nefarious planned for you, hopefully our fight today will put some distance between us and the next closest group of their agents." Vambrace attached, Borthan went back to looting through their supplies to bolster his own. Derendil listened to Faedryl's description of their foe, then snorted. "We're being hunted by a coin counter, eh? Then I suppose we must make our capture too costly for her to pursue. As for the spear, we need to dispose of it quickly and thoroughly." Derendil is reassured by Borthan speaking up. "Ditch it somewhere no one will find it. We've got that massive pick right? Give me a few minutes with that and I can make a grave for it, then Faedryl melts the stone back into place. Bury it deep enough that you can't spot it with your magic sight, right?" Derendil smiles at Borthan's plan and nods in agreement. "That may be the wisest words I've heard from you, Borthan." Bort laughed, taking more arrows since no one seemed inclined to take them. "Don't get used to it. I can't vouch for all the foolishness that spills from these handsome lips." When Shushar gave warning, the half-drow and the quaggoth both stood at alert and approached Jimjar to get a look themselves.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Going to do a large rework of Bort and Derendil's inventories. More details in the Discord soon.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae smiles at Borthan. Sure, he was an elf, but his rugged dwarvish behavior was accentuated in this very elven company. I am just curious what is about to come of this. After a resounding ignorance of the magic gifts provided and detailed in Turvy's descriptions, Nilvae did neither succeed in seeing Ront try drow underwear, nor did she reach out to Sarith wouldn't exclaim a magical phrase about sentient baked goods.

After Shuushar's warning, Nilvae exclaims. Wonderful, just in time to use my newly found magical secrets! she says, gleefully unaware of the chaos about to come.

*Spoiler*
Show

Healing to full with 1 HD spent. Recharging Warlock spells and equipping the gingerbread footwraps. I expect them to be made of thick paper used for food packets.




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 33/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool silently regenerates his self. With no decaying corpses around he takes to absorbing moisture from the walls instead. Rested and healed, his blue cuts and bruises turn a darker brown than the rest of his body. You can hear an angry hum coming from the tiniest knight of nature, positioning himself in front of the danger, bravely.

*Spoiler*
Show

Deciding to only take 1 HD.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish 
Concentrating: --

It was reassuring that the others were on board with ridding themselves of the spear as soon as possible and that she wasn't alone in that suggestion. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that whoever these lights are are friendly, but should we attempt diplomacy first regardless?" If they had connections to Stillwater they wanted them friendly and not dead, ideally. Though she was feeling quite rested up and ready to blast, there was no telling how many more foes they'd face before reaching 'safety'. 






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Of course there'd be more. Sarith tuts quietly under his breath and hefts his heavy crossbow, moving into position and working to mask his presence. If a fight broke out, best hope they didn't see him coming.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Stealth: (1d20+6)[*10*]

----------


## RandomWombat

Streaming out of the tents and following Jimjar, the group readies themselves for another confrontation and approaches the northern barricade. Beyond, they can see lights in the distance. Two of them are above ground level, and all three are bouncing as if in motion and flickering in and of sight. Ront pounds the forehead of his skull gauntlet into his opposite palm, still running high off of their last victory and baring his tusks in anticipation of another fight.

Reaching into her bag, Topsy brings out a spyglass and unfolds it, passing it up to Borthan - who unlike her is tall enough to see over the barricade. The lens of the magnifying device is green, rather than clear. "These help you see further with your darkvision," she explains.

With the tunnelglass in hand, Borthan is able to peer into the distance. He can see three bulky beasts approaching them, clad in armor. Two are climbing upon the walls on either side of the tunnel, while the third is crawling along the floor. A tall metal crest on each of their heads acts as cover for a pair of (presumed) drow riding on the back of each animal. A lance is resting in a notch in each crest-shield, with a small blue lantern hanging from the base of the blade and providing dim light.

*Spoiler: Nature*
Show

A Drow or a character trained in Religion passes DC 5 automatically.

*Spoiler: DC 1*
Show

Drow cavalry... they must be riding spiders, right?


*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

Spiders are sacred to Lolth. To ride them would be demeaning to the noble arachnids, and risk Lolth's fickle wrath.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

Drow use riding lizards for their cavalry, bulky herd animals able to crawl along walls. Normally they are too shy to be used in battle, normally consigning them to a role as livestock or beasts of burden, but the drow of Menzoberranzan raise them specially for that purpose.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

Normal training would not be enough to tame these animals as war mounts, despite their fearsome physique. Drow lizard trainers use regular applications of Enchantment-based mental conditioning to keep them both obedient and vicious. A drow-trained riding lizard will stubbornly fight a designated target to the death even after its rider has perished. Dispelling magic can potentially disrupt a riding lizard's conditioning, which often causes them to panic and attempt to throw off their rider.



*Spoiler: Borthan*
Show

Dim lanterns such as these are used specifically to hunt down Gloomstalkers, nullifying their invisibility without straining the hunter's sensitive eyes.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: 
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st

Borthan lowers the spyglass and spits. "Hunting party. And the prey they're hunting is me. Maybe all of us. Unless there happens to be another idiot around here that can't be seen by darkvision. I say we hide in the tents and turn this ambush right around." Borthan was used to leading with his left hand, if for the simple fact that some people were unpracticed in defending from the left, and now he had all the more reason to, with the massive vambrace on his shoulder. He took a moment to connect Moon, his undamaged hand axe, to the extradimensional chains.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: 
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

I'd prefer we try to negotiate... Derendil looks from Borthan to Faedryl. "But either way, it would be best done from a position of strength, don't you think?"

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armor of Agathys (10/10) 
Concentrating: --

"Well if they're after Borthan our position of strength will have to be killing off a few first so they don't get it into their heads to double cross us." It was darkly pleasant that at least this hunting group bothering the party wasn't after her specifically. It wouldn't change how hard she fought, of course - Borthan's skills would be needed - but it helped her feel like less of a personal detriment. "If they're riders they'll be on lizards, they're enchanted to keep fighting even after the rider is down. I've not got anything to break that enchantment but I'd start by downing the mounts first. It'll make it harder for them to run as well." Her eyes darken for a moment, her sclera turning inky black as frost covers her form. She was still one of the most armoured of the group. With her newly acquired lingerie, her fighting from the front would prove that she wasn't one to leave it to the others. She wasn't like her family.

Or so she tells herself.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Buffing Armor of Agathys from one of her 2nd level slots.

----------


## RandomWombat

When Derendil suggest negotiating, Topsy barks a mocking laugh. "Negotiating with drow is a fool's move. Chances are near certain that you will be double-crossed in the end." She turns, motioning her empty hand at Faedryl as she walks back towards the tents. "She even admits as much. Let's get in position and use their ambush site against them."

*"Don't need to ambush or talk,"* breaking his usual silence, Ront grins and looks at the pile of bodies. *"Heap their dead in front of the walls. Let them know that we are not the prey."*

"We already know they use zombies, it's not a good idea to give them corpses," a quiet voice murmurs in protest. Turvy quiets up when Ront glares at him. He shuffles away alongside his sister.

*"Is a good idea. Cannot just make a pile of zombie walk with a wave of their hand! Magic like that takes time. Right...?"* with only a little hesitation in his confidence, he looks to Faedryl, the other (sane) mage for confirmation.

With a voice weary of combat, Shuushar adds, "If frightening dem away could avoid more fighting, I tink we should gib id a try."

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Once course of action is locked in, feel free to select your starting positions on the map.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armor of Agathys (10/10) 
Concentrating: --

She can't bring herself to disagree with Tospy's assessment of drow negotiations. Recent history proved them quite right: negotiations were short and to the point of a dagger. It was that sort of attitude that she wanted to change, but here she was perpetuating it still.  "Some reanimation spells take a while, but others are short term - and much faster to cast. A hunting party probably doesn't have anyone who can raise them, but I wouldn't risk it. We won't need them - we've got the numbers." The cautious choice, but one she felt confident in making. She moves to take up position on the barricade. It would serve as partial cover while still showing they were aware, and unafraid. Perhaps their stalwart statement of resolute defiance would serve as an intimidation more than the dead bodies would. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Faedryl and Sarith's positions both look good. Good to go.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

With an almost melodic tone the elven warlock adds: We could chop off the legs of the fallen? Legless zombies are a horror show, but an amusing one. Either the time in the Underdark had honed Nilvae's practicality, or darkened her sense of humor. It was likely both though.

She rubs a bit of fat from a travel ration between her fingers. Please PLEASE let me grease those idiots up. Drow sliding off of their stupid riding lizards and breaking their necks is second only to covering a demon in glitter and making it dance in a moon elven celebration.

Besides I can always try to enchant their minds. The charm only holds a few moments, and they will hate me afterwards but that is nothing that was different before. Get a few tidbits of info, then slay them.

Oh, and Stool says, if we can remove the enchantment on their lizard mounts, they might spook and flee. Which is BORING. 





*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 33/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: - 
Concentration: - 

Stool tugs on Nilvae's skirt, and mutters something into her mind.

----------


## RandomWombat

Everyone takes their positions. Some remain in forward positions, ready to confront their foes. Others fall back to protected positions. Shuushar slips into one of the false walls, out of view.

The thunderous sound of clanging metal echoes ahead of the cavalry as they pick up speed on the approach. Their arrival comes much faster than many expected, the massive lizards moving with speed and momentum that makes their sudden lunge along the walls and over the front cover come as a surprise.

But some of the crew are ready. Topsy, positioned prone beneath the cloth of a tent, has her slingshot ready. Rather than try and shoot past the shielded crest, she aims for the lizard's eyes and face through its armored helmet. Her shot lands true, her stone finding its way right into the lizard's left eye. It hisses and bares its fangs at Ront, who grabs it by the crest and tries to punch through the gaps in its helmet, but his large hand cannot fit through.

As the rider and mount attempt to retaliate, Ront shoves back and brings up his shield, deflecting two lance jabs and holding back the animal's jaws. Seated on the saddle behind the cavalryman is a crossbowman, who uses his angle above the wall to take careful aim and land two deadly, but not lethal crossbow shots on Mr. Spide.

Spide rears back and launches a net of webbing at the lizard charging over the barricade at Faedryl, but the webbing fails to get enough purchase to trouble its movements, leaving only a bunch of webbing stuck to its helm and crest. The beast opens its jaws and bites down on Faedryl's arm, its teeth sliding past her shield. The barrier around her pulses and some of the lizard's teeth shatter from the biting cold. But the angle proves awkward for the rider to strike at her from behind his crest shield; two clumsy jabs fail to make contact.

Another crossbowman seated behind the second cavalier unbuckles himself and rolls off, backing away to get a better shot angle. He aims expertly past the barricade.

The third rider surges over, leaping down into the midst of the crew. His beast bites viciously into Stool, ripping out some of the myconid's overgrowth and hissing and spitting on a cloud of spores. The rider instead turns his lance on Derendil, who defends himself adeptly... until an unexpected bolt from the crossbowman outside pierces his side.

It is not a third crossbowman who rides behind the last rider, but rather another scout, his longbow currently unreadied. He looks unused to travel by lizardback, unlike his comrades, and there is a notable glass vial of a pinkish-purple powder at his belt.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Facing of the lizards' crests (provide 3/4 cover from that direction, but only to the riders) marked with yellow.

Topsy readies an action and lands a *16* damage sneak attack on Riding Lizard A as it approaches.
Mr. Spide readies an action and shoots webbing at Riding Lizard B as it approaches, but misses.
Ront readies an action and punches Riding Lizard A for a miss.

Riding Lizard A misses Ront with a bite.
Drow Cavalry A makes two attacks at Ront with his lance, missing each time by the exact same amount as his mount.
Riding Lizard B bites Faedryl for *11* damage. Agathys and her lingerie eat the damage, and her spell deals *15* damage back after vulnerability.
Drow Cavalry B makes two attacks at Faedryl with his lance, missing both.
Riding Lizard C bites Stool for a *17* damage critical hit, which his leftover symbiotic entity from pre-rest absorbs 4 of. However, he also deals *5* necrotic to it with his halo as it approaches.
Drow Cavalry C makes two attacks at Derendil with his lance, missing both.
Drow Crossbowman A shoots at Mr. Spide twice, for *25* total damage.
Drow Crossbowman B shoots at Derendil twice, hitting once for *10* damage.

I assume that the entire party sans Sarith is now up.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

(During first round players may choose split or average)

Topsy - nat20
Mr. Spide - 22
Ront - 21

Drow Cavalry/Armored Riding Lizards - 20.5
Drow Crossbowman - Delayed

*Borthan* - 20
Jimjar - 19
*Borthan/Derendil* - 15.5
*Stool* - 12
*Faedryl* - 11
*Derendil* - 11
Shuushar - 10
*Nilvae/Stool* - 9.5
Turvy - 9

Drow Scout - 9

*Faedryl/Sarith* - 8.5
*Nilvae* - 7
*Sarith* - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

When the beast's jaws clamp down against her ice-encrusted skin Faedryl gives a grunt of frustration that her spells were penetrated so quickly, but the moment passes and any pain she feels is magically erased by the power of her sister's underwear. With their front line being pierced through so quickly she acts quickly, focusing not entirely on the foe in front of her but instead on the ones that had penetrated so far. If Borthan's invisibility was already jeopardised there was no reason to maintain the darkness, and so she calls up the flames with a swiftly drawn rune beneath the lizard to her left, lashing out at the same time with her mind to try to force the rider from his mount in front of her. Their lances would be a liability once they were on the ground - and who knows, perhaps the enchantment might work for _any_ drow instead of just them? If she could claim a new steed from this then that would hardly be worth the pain. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Reaction:* Shield
*Move:* None
*Bonus Action:* Attempt to TK shove the *B* from his mount. 13 (from discord)+StrMod vs. DC14 to shove him off his mount. Almost certainly not happening.
*Action:* Create Bonfire under *C*'s lizard, specifically the Scout square. Not sure if it'll hit lizard+scout both, but primarily targeting the mount first. Damage: (1d8)[*4*] fire.
Lizard: (1d20)[*15*]+DexMod vs. DC14
Scout if needed: (1d20)[*7*]+DexMod vs DC14. 

Will prompt a new save and damage if they remain in that square at the end of their turn.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 33/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbotic Entity (16/16 tHP) 
Concentration: - 

Stool raises his tiny hand and pets the air around the lizard, seemingly trying to calm it. Stool then hums in the air. To anticipate the worst, Stool grows in size yet again.

*Spoiler*
Show

Stunning Spores (DC 11 or be stunned) for the lancer's mount next to Stool.
Bonus Action Symbiotic Entity.







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae's ire towards the person almost murdering her pet donkey-spider knows no bounds. She taps deep within herself and finds a well of chaotic energy, perfectly suited to destroy this insolent archer. She aims it at him, expecting lightning to burst from her finger tips, she shouts: UNLIMITED POWAAAA!! at him, but instead the whole cave echoes with arcane sound. The vibration shakes the foundation of it, and not only the crossbowman but also the other archer is affected, clutching their ears while bleeding from them.

*Spoiler*
Show

33 Thunder Damage to two targets from Chaos Bolt (I rolled two 8s on the original noncrit roll, so that means the spell gets doubled) for some carnage.
Critical regardless (I removed the roll by accident).




* post roll count doesn't match database

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (10 rounds)
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan may be visible to regular vision, but that doesn't stop him from hiding and waiting for his moment to strike. When the lizard rider is engaged with Ront, Borthan sprints forward, using preparation to his advantage, and mutters PREY. as he slides up, past the lizard's crest and around to get a line on his target- the rider. The lizard seemed to fall under the myconid's spell, and Borthan meant to stop the rider from smacking any sense into his mount. Two axe blows rain down at the drow, each with magically enhanced lethal intent.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Cast Hunter's Mark as a bonus action, targeting the drow cavalry rider. Move past the cover of the crest. 2 attacks, one normal and one from dread ambusher. Normal one first- (1d20+6)[*7*] to hit, (1d8+4)[*11*] damage plus (1d6)[*3*] damage. Dread ambusher attack deals an extra d8 if it hits- (1d20+6)[*8*] to hit, (1d8+4)[*9*] damage, plus (1d6)[*2*], plus (1d8)[*5*]. If any of that crits I'll roll more dice in the discord.



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 22/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (10 rounds)
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

All illusion of diplomacy vanishes from Derendil's mind when the massive lizard crashes forward. It is replaced with hot red anger when a crossbow bolt pierces his hide. Teeth bared, claws extended, Derendil rushed forward. Rather than attempting to strike the drow scout on the lizard, Derendil tried to grab it and drag it down to the ground, attempting to keep it locked down.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Advantage on strength checks means Derendil can't fail the athletics check to grab this drow, right? (1d20+5)[*22*] or (1d20+5)[*25*] to grapple, whichever is better.

----------


## RandomWombat

The rider proves strong enough to maintain his position in the saddle against Faedryl's shove. Her flames have marginally more success; though the giant lizard shifts away from them, they lick up and burn the scout's exposed leg. Before he can move away, the scout finds himself in the vice grip of Derendil's long, powerful arm. Unbuckling from the saddle, the scout pulls back and twists at an acrobatic angle, slipping out of Derendil's grasp. Performing a cartwheel and launching himself off of the animal, he backs away behind the nearest tent for cover and draws his longbow.

Stool puffs some spores into the face of the lizard in front of him, which sneezes but otherwise seems unaffected. A blue ray streaks past and strikes the animal, leaving a patch of frostburnt scales behind.

Taking power into her hands, Nilvae soon finds it spiraling out of control. She releases it, and the tunnel rumbles, some dust falling down from above. One of the crossbowmen screams, dropping his crossbow to grab his ears as he bleeds from the eyes and nose, before slumping unconscious and hanging from his saddle buckle. The power rebounds, a faint ripple seen going through the air to strike the other crossbowman, who doubles over in pain but does not pass out.

Circling around his quarry, Borthan announces his intent. The rider twists out of the path of the two axes, deflecting one with his own vambrace and knocking Borthan momentarily off balance. While his back is turned, Jimjar flanks from the other side, bringing his hand crossbow up and launching one of the bolts into the drow's back through a small joint in his armor. Flashing a wink across the battlefield, the gnome is gone in a flash, now drawing his new elvish blade to confront the wounded crossbowman outside the barricade.

A familiar webbed hand is pressed to Borthan's back, and he feels a sensation of protection.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl attempts to TK shove Drow Cavalry B, but is resist.
Faedryl casts Create Bonfire on Riding Lizard C (evaded) and Drow Scout (*4* damage).
Stool uses Stunning Spores on Riding Lizard C, but is resisted.
Stool activates Symbiotic Entity again.
Nilvae casts Chaos Bolt, dealing a critial *32* thunder damage and an immediate KO to Crossbowman A, and it jumps to Crossbowman B for *18* thunder damage.
Borthan casts Hunter's Mark on Drow Cavalry C, but misses with both attacks.
Derendil grapples Drow Scout.

Jimjar critically sneak attacks Drow Cavalry C, dealing *24* damage. He uses a bonus action to Dash, drawing his shortsword in his free hand.
Shuushar casts Virtue on Borthan for *7* temp hp.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost on Riding Lizard C, dealing *12* cold damage after Vulnerability.

Drow Scout uses his action to break out of Derendil's grapple, and bonus action Disengages as he flees the melee.

Sarith is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Topsy - nat20
Mr. Spide - 22
Ront - 21

Drow Cavalry/Armored Riding Lizards - 20.5
Drow Crossbowman - Delayed

*Borthan* - 20
Jimjar - 19
*Stool* - 12
*Faedryl* - 11
*Derendil* - 11
Shuushar - 10
*Nilvae/Stool* - 9.5
Turvy - 9

Drow Scout - 9

*Sarith* - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Even from inside the tent his ears pick out the difference in steps, the weight of the feet moving. He doesn't need to see them to know that _someone_ has pierced past their line, either to attempt a flank or trying to pierce through and to run beyond them, perhaps carrying a message. He would stop that. He darts out, fleet of foot, and looses a poisoned bolt at the scout that he'd heard, and now sees, before vanishing from the scout's line of sight into the middle of camp. If they stayed standing, they'd have to clamber over corpses to reach him, slowing their progress. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Dash
*Move:* Into line of sight to attack the scout, then back into the centre of camp.
*Action:* Attack the scout with his hand crossbow, poison dart. (1d20+8)[*15*] *Damage:* (1d6+4)[*6*] No sneak attack due to lack of adjacent friends/advantage.
Consave vs. Pooison: (1d20)[*17*]+ConMod

----------


## RandomWombat

Moving quickly, Sarith heads off the scout with a bolt from an unexpected angle, though as he slips back out of sight there is no telltale thump of a falling body. So the poison is resisted, then. The scout's passing is not lost on Topsy either, however. She crawls out from under the tent and follows him, drawing a dagger to strike. As he turns to face her, she opens with a spinning kick that wipes out his legs, and drives the dagger down in a follow up that ensures he will not get up again any time soon - or perhaps ever.

Badly wounded, Spide sprays a mist of poison past Faedryl, stinging the lizard's face but having no visible effect. Then the spider retreats to nurse its wounds, followed once out of view by the braying of a donkey. The rider adjusts his stance and jabs his lance at Faedryl once more, but she evades his fierce strike. He guides his mount down from the wall, the animal's forelimbs now standing upon the barricade and nearly toppling it with its weight. It lunges forward and snaps at air as Faedryl dodges.

The swinging tail of the lizard strikes Jimjar in the side, catching him off guard. It's enough to throw off his aim, and allow the crossbowman to escape his opportune jab. A panicked shot sails past Jimjar and away into the distance, as the shooter regains his composure.

Ront hammers away at the drow on lizardback beside him, but in spite of the wound dealt by Jimjar the warrior is no slouch. He uses his armor, vambraces, and movements to deflect and redirect the force of each strike with expert defense. Casting his lance aside in these close quarters, the rider draws a blade instead, slashing at Ront with a determined look in his eye. The blow connects, but only bruises through Ront's armor. The orc fends off the lizard looming over him with his shield.

The foremost lizard snaps its jaws at Stool, but they slide off of his bucket helmet, leaving scraping tooth marks.

A lance lashes out to strike at Derendil, but he grabs it with his hands. It takes all of the drow cavalier's strength to wrest it back under his command. Then a swinging tail comes out from the side and strikes Derendil upside the head, leaving his ears ringing.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith shoots Drow Scout for *6* damage, but the poison is resisted.

Topsy attacks Drow Scout with a dagger for *7*, and an unarmed strike for *1*, just enough to KO.
Mr. Spide spits poison at Riding Lizard B, but the lizard resists. He moves out of view, switching to Dr. Donk.
Ront uses Action Surge and makes three attacks against Drow Cavalry C, all of which are deflected.

Drow Cavalry A attacks Derendil fiercely, but misses.
Drow Cavalry B attacks Faedryl fiercely, but misses.
Drow Cavalry C draws a longsword instead and attacks Ront fiercely, dealing *11* damage.
Riding Lizard A bites Ront, but misses.
Riding Lizard B bites Faedryl, but misses. It also tail slaps Jimjar for *13* damage.
Riding Lizard C resists Halo of Spores and Bonfire. It takes bites Stool, but misses. Its tail slap crits Derendil for *7* damage after reduction.
Drow Crossbowman B moves away, provoking from Jimjar, who misses. The Crossbowman misses right back, then regains *5* hit points with a Second Wind.

Everyone but Sarith is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Topsy - nat20
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 22
Ront - 21

Drow Cavalry/Armored Riding Lizards - 20.5
Drow Crossbowman - Delayed

*Borthan* - 20
Jimjar - 19
*Stool* - 12
*Faedryl* - 11
*Derendil* - 11
Shuushar - 10
*Nilvae/Stool* - 9.5
Turvy - 9

Drow Scout - 9

*Sarith* - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Her first attempt to shove the target from his steed had failed, but that was no reason not to do so a second time, or a third. Wearing him down would serve them all. In the meantime, her allies seemed to be focused on the deepest-diving rider, and so she would add to them in turn. Adding to their collective efforts seemed the most prudent tactic, after all. She grapples the weave of magic and threads the strands into a swift magic circle, unleashing a blast of bolts at the injured rider.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None
*Bonus Action:* Attempt to TK shove the *Rider B* from his mount. (1d20)[*9*]+StrMod vs. DC14 to shove him off his mount. 
*Action:* Magic Missile (1st level) *4* (from discord)*3=*12* damage total against Rider *C*

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (9 rounds)
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan feels Shushar's guidance, but prefers to keep utilizing violence to serve his purposes. He renews his assault on the drow cavalryman with both axes.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 First attack- (1d20+6)[*24*] for (1d8+4)[*7*] damage plus (1d6)[*5*]. Second attack (1d20+6)[*14*] to hit and (1d8+4)[*7*] damage, plus (1d6)[*2*]. In case of a crit, here's additional damage- (1d8)[*5*] plus (1d6)[*5*].



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 15/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (9 rounds)
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil swings back at the lizard who smacked him, trying to stop it from assaulting him again.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*18*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*8*] damage. (1d6)[*4*] in case of a crit.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

The scout fell, and Sarith was left with his pick and choose of what target to take, but the lizard's guards offered significant cover against his crossbow, and putting himself forward would put him at risk of pain he could simply avoid. Instead, he picks out a target at range that foolishly remained within his line of sight, and looses a heavy crossbow bolt across the battlefield, where cover would avail them nothing. When he does so he hears the echoes of the dead screaming in his ears, but at a far distance - as if across planes themselves. He ignores them. The dead could scream all they like, but he'd still pile them high to keep from joining them, if only for a while longer yet. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Steady Aim
*Move:* None
*Action:* Heavy Crossbow shot at Crossbowman B. (1d20+8)[*10*] Advantage: (1d20+8)[*17*] *Damage:* (1d10+4)[*7*]6 (from discord)+(2d6)[*11*] Sneak Attack
If a hit, activate Wail of the Dead for (1d6)[*6*] necrotic damage on Riding Lizard B.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 33/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbotic Entity (16/16 tHP), Shillelagh 
Concentration: - 

The fungus person fails to stun the lizard but it was a distraction anyhow. Now, with a fully engorged and somewhat wet club, Stool engages the mount again. A regular wildspeaker could have had pity with the lizard, but they were enemies for Stool now, and lizard tasted well.

*Spoiler*
Show

24 to hit, 5 blunt damage, 2 poison damage, DC 13 Con to resist 3 necrotic damage.







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  Bless [self, Borthan, Ront and Sarith)

Nilvae concentrates on helping a bit now that her initial rage has subsided. Are you fine, Faedryl? she asks the mage currently fighting for her life. Say Uncle, if you're hurt.

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting Bless with a warlock slot and Magic Stone.

----------


## RandomWombat

This time the telekinetic shove lands at a better angle, and the drow soldier is thrown back in his saddle, suffering some whiplash from the impact. The safety belt for wall-riding keeps him in the saddle, but pulling himself back up to position in full armor using his abdominal muscles is no easy task. Faedryl's spell, meanwhile, sails across the chaotic melee to pound and pummel the most wounded rider. It gives Borthan the opening he needs to land a deadly blow at last, toppling the foe in his saddle.

Derendil in his fury slashes the tail that struck him, leaving a bleeding wound on the riding lizard, which continues to fight without its rider's command. From the other side, Stool delivers a club uppercut, leaving a smear of flesh-eating spores where it struck. Shuushar takes the lizard's distraction as a chance to slip past, into a position where he can better assess the crew's health.

As Nilvae's magic sets in, Sarith takes aim across the field and sinks a bolt into the chest of the enemy crossbowman, bringing him down into the dirt and proving who is superior. The lizard next to Faedryl flails its head and hisses in pain, seemingly in synchronicity with the drow's death.
From behind Nilvae, her donkey walks over and bumps into her while seeking safety in the chaos.

With the crossbowman down, Jimjar attempts to strike at the rider Faedryl knocked over, but the enemy deflects his stab. Turvy's efforts likewise meet ill luck, his ray of frost striking the armored crest of his target. Drawing a second dagger, Topsy hurls both at the face of the nearest lizard, but they clatter against its helmet.

Ront continues his melee with the northmost lizard, grabbing its head in his hand and delivering a brutal uppercut to its unarmored chin. He pulls back before it can snap at him with its jaws in turn.

A lance strike sails past Derendil, missing him in his wild movements.

With a roar of determined strength, the cavalier Faedryl had shoved over uses his lance's butt to help shove himself up, swinging it forward with the same momentum. It happens so fast that in a blink, Faedryl feels a sudden lightheadedness. Red clouds the vision through her left eye as her forehead bleeds, where the rider's lance would have carved open her head if it were but an inch to the left. Only a reflexive, if late, Shield spell prevents the lizard's fangs from finishing the job.
Behind it, Jimjar hops over its lashing tail.

The most wounded lizard at the vanguard thrashes and flails, but without the direction of its rider none of its attempts hit their mark.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl shoves Drow Cavalry B, dealing *1* damage and knocking him Prone in the saddle.
Faedryl casts Magic Missile, dealing *12* damage to Drow Cavalry C. 
Borthan hits Drow Cavalry C for *12* damage and a KO. The second attack hits due to Advantage and deals 2 failed death saves.
Derendil hits Riding Lizard C for *8* damage.
Stool clonks Riding Lizard C for *7* damage.
Nilvae casts Bless on Sarith, Borthan, Ront, and herself, then preps Magic Stone.
Sarith shoots Drow Crossbowman B for a *17* damage sneak attack and a KO. Wail of the Dead deals *6* damage to Riding Lizard B.

Jimjar attacks Drow Cavalry B, but misses even with Adv and Lucky.
Shuushar Disengages to get out of the corner.
Turvy casts Ray of Frost, but misses Riding Lizard C.
Topsy tosses two daggers at Riding Lizard C, but they go off the armor.
Dr. Donk Dodges.
Ront hits Riding Lizard A for *9* damage, but misses his offhand.

Drow Cavalry A misses Derendil.
Drow Cavalry B uses a bonus action and Athletics to right himself in his saddle, and crits Faedryl for *24* damage. Concentration on Bonfire is list. However, Nilvae uses Silvery Barbs to reduce the damage to *13*.
Drow Cavalry C dies of his wounds. Removed from map for now to reduce clutter.
Riding Lizard A misses Ront with a bite.
Riding Lizard B bites Faedryl, but misses against her Shield spell. Its tail slap misses Jimjar.
Riding Lizard C takes *3* damage from halo of spores. It misses Stool with a bite, and Derendil with a tail slap.

With the Scout still down, everyone is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Topsy - nat20
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 22
Ront - 21

Drow Cavalry/Armored Riding Lizards - 20.5
Drow Crossbowman - Delayed

*Borthan* - 20
Jimjar - 19
*Stool* - 12
*Faedryl* - 11
*Derendil* - 11
Shuushar - 10
*Nilvae/Stool* - 9.5
Turvy - 9

Drow Scout - 9

*Sarith* - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

Faedryl watches, almost in slow motion as the lance goes straight for her face and for a moment it seems like it might be the end, but when the weapon is coated in a silvery light it turns it away - if only slightly, and turns certain death into simply blinding pain. She turns and confirms the source of the spell as Nilvae. Unexpected, but not unwanted. She manages a quick, bloodsoaked nod of thanks - nonverbal gratitude was possible for her, at least, but the damage was adding up, and she'd rather not risk another brush with death so soon. She calls up her defensive spell again, wreathing her in icy armour to safeguard from the lizard and lance both. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None
*Bonus Action:* Attempt to TK shove the *Rider B* from his mount again. (1d20)[*10*]+StrMod vs. DC14 to shove him off his mount. 
*Action:* Armor of Agathys from a 2nd level slot: 10 temp HP.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

There was a quiet thrill of the kill as Sarith's effortless shot pierces his target and downs them. It was this that had first drawn him to soldiering. The quiet moment of anticipation before you loose your arrow or bolt, the heartbeat as it flies through the air, and the rush as it lands its mark. Somewhere along the way he'd lost that, in favour of politics and groveling but here...it felt pure again, sending people to an early grave, hearing their last screams. He doesn't even notice consciously that the screams seem to be rather more real than just imagined in his mind, striking against his foes out of subconscious desire rather than active will. His brush with death - both his own, and bringing it upon others - have moved him closer to the veil.

The crossbowman down, he instead targets against one of the massive lizards. Its rider would be far less effective once their mount was gone.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Steady Aim
*Move:* None
*Action:* Heavy Crossbow shot at Lizard B. (1d20+8)[*16*] Advantage: (1d20+8)[*18*] +4 (bless from discord) *Damage:* (1d10+4)[*11*]+(2d6)[*7*] Sneak Attack
If a hit, activate Wail of the Dead for [roll]1d6[/roll 5 (from discord, messed up the roll code) necrotic damage on Rider B.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 33/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbotic Entity (16/16 tHP), Shillelagh 
Concentration: - 

Honing in on the riding lizard, Stool wacks it again. 

*Spoiler*
Show

Shillelagh 14 to hit for 8 blunt damage, 5 necrotic, but the Halo going after the rider this time, since the mount seems too enduring. 4 necrotic damage negated by DC 14 con save







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  Bless [self, Borthan, Ront and Sarith)

Even if you kill Miss Melad, you will still be a useless drow male, minion. Nilvae remarks, taking a bit of force out of the drow's swing. Derendil however is an elven prince, and even in his bestial form our adoration is higher for him than you will ever be. she finishes and chucks a Stone at the poor guy after pointing at him and laughing.

*Spoiler*
Show

Magic Stone with True Strike Crit (20+6) for 10 damage.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions:
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (9 rounds)
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan's spell moves on to the next target, and the next, and so on, until all his foes are dead. Starting with the lizard, he begins to go to work, and that work is murder.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Two blessed attacks with hunter's mark. This should be interesting. First attack- (1d20+6)[*9*] to hit, plus (1d4)[*1*]. (1d8+4)[*9*] plus (1d6)[*1*]. Copy paste for a second attack- (1d20+6)[*14*] to hit, plus (1d4)[*2*]. (1d8+4)[*6*] plus (1d6)[*6*].



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 15/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (8 rounds)
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil slashes at the lizards, moving to avoid their armored crests, lost in the violence of the melee and the red of his rage.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*10*] or 23 on discord to hit with advantage and (1d6+5)[*7*] damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

This time the telekinetic shove is expected when Faedryl fixes her gaze on the rider, and he braces himself to keep stable. But moments later, as his mount is struck with a brutal crossbow bolt that punctures its armor, he flinches along with it as though experiencing the same pain.

Streaking white light, a rock trails over top of the crest, sailing as if it were going to go too far. Then in defiance of physics it continues curving along its arc, 'falling' sideways and knocking the unsuspecting rider on the back of the head. Taking advantage, Jimjar thrusts his blade not into the rider but into his animal's chest from below. The creature lurches and then collapses sideways, impaling itself on the sharp drow flourishes that decorate the barricade beneath it. The rider likewise topples, landing sideways on the ground.

His foe unable to take any cheap shots, Jimjar uses his off-hand to nick the other rider with his hand crossbow. Getting up and untangled from his saddle, the drow draws his longsword and two-hands it, fencing against Jimhar's weaker arm and smaller sword, knocking it aside with blows that wrench the gnome's wrist as he tries to defend.


Though his first swing goes off of the armor, Borthan drives his second upwards into the lizard's underbelly. With a hiss of pain and fury the great beast slumps to the ground. Turning to the other, Derendil slashes its foreleg between the segments of its armor. A warm glow from behind him sinks into the quaggoth prince's wounds, mending them shut.

Moving closer, Turvy holds a hand over his spellbook and frost begins to form upon his hand. Spreading his fingers out in a fan he calls out, "Gelutos!" And a wave of mist rushes forth, freezing everything it touches in a bitter cold. This lizard, too, falls, unable to handle the chill. Its rider falls, landing prone at Derendil's feet, still belted into his saddle, and the other passenger flops down onto the ground covered in frostbitten patches.

"Well done!" circling to join her brother, Topsy grabs a new dagger from her belt to stab the fallen drow. Alas he catches her blade with the haft of his now-awkwardly held lance, and her low-blow kicks to his side do more to her foot than to his armor. Ront joins her pressing his foot down on the warrior's chest and pushing down. When that doesn't work as well as he'd hoped to squeeze the drow's guts, he slams the edge of his shield into the man's head, ringing his ears.

Throwing his lance away, the drow forces his way out from under Ront's foot and lashes out at Topsy with his sword as he draws it. She backs away from his swing, which catches on her armor but doesn't draw blood.


All the flashing magic has Dr. Donk in a panic, and in the process of running around he stomps upon one of the fallen lizards, putting the last nail in its coffin when Stool's spores find their way into the resulting lacerations.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl TK shoves Drow Cavalry B, but he resists this time.
Faedryl casts Armor of Agathys.
Sarith shoots Riding Lizard B for an *18* damage sneak attack. Wail of the Dead deals *5* damage to Drow Cavalry B.
Stool swings at and misses Riding Lizard C.
Nilvae crits Drow Cavalry B for *10* damage with magic stone.
Borthan misses Riding Lizard C with his first swing, but the second deals *12* damage and KOs. Moved the mark to Lizard A next; correct me if you have a different plan.
Derendil claws Riding Lizard A for *7* damage, thanks to Silvery Barbs.

Jimjar sneak attacks Riding Lizard B for *12* damage and a KO. It fails a death save as it falls upon the barricade, and its rider falls prone.
Jimjar shoots at Drow Cavalry A for *1* offhand damage.
Shuushar heals Derendil for *11* health.
Turvy casts 2nd level Frost Fingers on Drow Cavalry A, Riding Lizard A, and Drow Crossbowman A. He deals *25* cold damage to the lizard after vulnerability, and *8* to the rider who resists. The rider falls prone as the mount falls, also taking a failed death save.
Topsy misses two strikes on Drow Cavalry A.
Dr. Donk tramples over Riding Lizard C, dealing two failed death saves with a crit 'attack'.
Ront misses his first attack, but hits Drow Cavalry A with his second for *6* damage.

Drow Cavalry A stands and draws his longsword, then hits Topsy for *4* damage.
Drow Cavalry B stands and draws his longsword, then hits Jimjar for *8* damage.
Riding Lizard C fails a death save due to being in Halo of Spores, and is died.

Everyone is up again!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Topsy - nat20
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 22
Ront - 21

Drow Cavalry/Armored Riding Lizards - 20.5
Drow Crossbowman - Delayed

*Borthan* - 20
Jimjar - 19
*Stool* - 12
*Faedryl* - 11
*Derendil* - 11
Shuushar - 10
*Nilvae/Stool* - 9.5
Turvy - 9

Drow Scout - 9

*Sarith* - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

Sensing victory on the horizon Faedryl pushes the advantage, calling up flames beneath the no-longer-lance-wielding rider as she tried to slam him into his now-felled lizard.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* None
*Bonus Action:* Attempt to TK shove the *Rider B* into his mount for damage. (1d20)[*1*]+StrMod vs. DC14
*Action:* Create Bonfire under *Rider B*. (1d20)[*10*]+DexMod vs. DC14 or (1d8)[*2*] fire damage. 





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

With so few foes left to fire at, Sarith threads a single crossbow bolt through the throng to one of the few remaining standing opponents. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Steady Aim
*Move:* None
*Action:* Heavy Crossbow shot at Rider B. (1d20+8)[*16*] Advantage: [roll]1d20+8[/roll  17 (from discord, screwed up the roll code)+ (1d4)[*2*] (bless) *Damage:* (1d10+4)[*8*]+(2d6)[*6*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (7 rounds)
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan advances on one of the dwindling number of drow and brings both axes down in an overhand chop.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+6)[*9*] to hit, (1d20+6)[*23*] hit, plus (1d4)[*4*] to the first and (1d4)[*1*] to the second. Damage- (1d8+4)[*7*] and (1d6)[*2*], then (1d8+4)[*12*] and 4 (discord d6). Kill em dead.



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (7 rounds)
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil follows suit, slashing out with his claws in an attempt to put the drow down before they could hurt anyone.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

(1d20+5)[*20*] to hit and (1d6+5)[*6*] damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

Faedryl's magic burns the lizard, ending its life, and she shoves its rider against it into the fire, charring him. Sarith's bolt flies past and lands true, a mighty shot.

Borthan and Derendil gang up on the other rider, beating him down in spite of his keen defenses.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl shoves Drow Cavalry B for *4* damage.
Faedryl casts Create Bonfire, burning Drow Cavalry B for *2* damage and killing the lizard.
Sarith shoots Drow Rider B for a *14* damage sneak attack.
Borthan misses one attack, but hits Drow Rider A with the other for *16* damage.
Derendil hits Drow Rider A for *6* damage.

Mid-round update. Nilvae and Stool are still up as well!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Topsy - nat20
Mr. Spide/Dr. Donk - 22
Ront - 21

Drow Cavalry/Armored Riding Lizards - 20.5
Drow Crossbowman - Delayed

*Borthan* - 20
Jimjar - 19
*Stool* - 12
*Faedryl* - 11
*Derendil* - 11
Shuushar - 10
*Nilvae/Stool* - 9.5
Turvy - 9

Drow Scout - 9

*Sarith* - 6

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 33/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbotic Entity (16/16 tHP), Shillelagh 
Concentration: - 

End their life! Stool cheers on Ront mentally as it advances too.

*Spoiler*
Show

Crit Shillelagh for 13 damage, 1 necrotic damage on lizard. Cloud of Spores on Lizard for 5 damage, DC 14 Con resist.







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  Bless [self, Borthan, Ront and Sarith)

Nilvae points at the lizard too and throws. It happens to connect between its eyes, leaving a small bloody patch. Kind of on a roll tonight, Spide. the elf remarks.

*Spoiler*
Show

another crit for Magic Stone for 11 damage. Casting True Strike wasnt necessary.

----------


## RandomWombat

With a precision application of club and stone, Nilvae and Stool strike down the last of their foes. The unconscious lizard, and one of the crossbowmen, has expired by the time everyone lowers their weapons. A second crossbowman, the scout, and the two cavaliers yet cling to life by a tenuous thread - either to be cut, or to be held fast above the void for questioning.

Ront rolls his shoulders and claps his fists together. He looks at the huge lizards, flexing his fingers and licking his tusks. *"Good grilling. We can eat well."*

"If _you're_ volunteering to lug them along," Topsy comments snidely. "We need to conclude our business and move on in case there's more of these idiots coming."

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Nilvae and Stool's attacks are redirected at the drow since the lizards are all down, and are enough to finish them off.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

"Turvy's right - we should burn collect what we can, burn the bodies and then move on." In truth, frankly, she'd appreciate another rest. The engagement had been more deadly than she'd anticipated, but how many more drow would they throw at one group of escaped slaves? All of them, she expected. Their pride would demand it, instead of simply cutting their losses. Hopefully the kua-toa settlement offered more in the way of safety, at least for a while. She sets about doing exactly that - working with Sarith to pile the already stripped bodies together for easier incineration. She'd rather not face them again in a zombified state, on the off chance they sent a priestess with them next time.

----------


## RandomWombat

Their foes are stripped, and the dead are piled once more, and the tents (unless the group wishes to pack them) will serve as able kindling. Acrid, stinging smoke will soon begin to fill the cavern once the bodies are lit.

Though Topsy's suggestion to lug the lizards along was probably meant as a joke, Ront uses one of their swords to hack a riding lizard's tail off and bleeds the appendage out while the rest of them dispose of the body, leaving a massive pool of blood on the path to drow territory. He slings the tail over his shoulder, evidently intent on cooking it next time they make camp.

Topsy uses her dagger to slice some more modest cuts of meat from the lizards' flanks, packing them with some cloth in her bag.

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

*Spoiler: Cavaliers*
Show

3x Lances
3x Longswords
3x Hand Crossbows
15x bolts
3x Splint Mail
2x Healing Potions


*Spoiler: Scout*
Show

1x Longbow
1x Shortsword
1x Dagger
10x Arrows


*Spoiler: Crossbowmen*
Show

2x Light Crossbows
2x Shortswords
x2 Daggers
18x bolts
5x Drow Poison bolts
2x Healing Potions



There lay two... technically three paths before them. They can continue left from here, circling the Silken Paths towards the kuo-toa town. Or they could turn back and try to confuse their pursuers further by using the Silken Paths. Or, if possessed by madness, they could begin walking straight into the mouth of drow territory. Who would ever expect it?

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (8 rounds)
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan looted a longsword from the fallen drow, then makes sure to get his own cuts of lizard steak before making ready to leave. "To the Kuo-Toa, then? That seems like the next step that makes sense. And hopefully we avoid drow as much as we can? Much fun as it is to hack these people to pieces I wouldn't mind an easy trip."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Rage (8 rounds)
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil likewise takes a longsword. As much as claws seemed natural, a good length of steel was reassuring in his grip. He nods to Borthan, then looks to Faedryl for her opinion.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  Bless [self, Borthan, Ront and Sarith)

The half-elf looks at Faedryl. I think the words you are looking for are: 'thank you for saving my neck.' We are allies by chance and not by choice, but you could at least recognize my efforts in saving you as such. Nilvae was not mad, and she knew that years if not decades of living in a backstabbing society didn't exactly make her trust new allies, but she too was risking her life for this drow woman. Besides, you need rest. We should move and then pause, I can sense Stool is also at the end of its mystical prowess. We should not exert every ounce of magic we have if not forced. She looks at the warriors of the group, but talks to Borthan.

Unless our dear escorts want to push on.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

She's cut off from any agreement with Borthan by Nilvae's outburst, which she suffers through with remarkable patience. "Do you require a pat on the head and a cookie every time you cast a spell? Yes, you helped, as did everyone, in the fight. Well done to us all." Such aggrandizing for thanks was, in Faedryl's eyes at least, childish. "Should I start begging for gratitude for standing on the frontline? For each spell I cast? Should the others? No, of course not. It's expected that we each do what we can so that we can all get out of this gods-cursed situation we've found ourselves in." The icy armour that still wrapped around her crackled slightly, a literal representation of her emotional state. If nothing else, any thanks she would have offered now would simply come across as insincere, so better not to bother. The thanks she _had_ felt for the spell that had saved her a more painful blow would simply have to stay locked up inside, for now. 

"We waited an hour to identify the items we claimed and our reward was another attempted ambush. I say we move on as quickly as possible to the Kua-Toa. If we can get inside their walls we might, finally, find a degree of safety, at least for a night." She eyes the quickly growing pile of taken items they'd acquired. "And maybe we can offload all of this."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan looked from Nilvae to Faedryl with confusion on his features for a moment, as though he doesn't understand their bickering. This rapidly transitions into frustration as he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, and begins to speak, voice slowly rising in volume and tone. "Look, I don't pretend to understand how our group continues to function, but that'll come to a real quick stop of we start expecting please and thank yous each time we save each other's behinds. I know I'd have to spend the next few days thanking the Fish and Jimjar for pulling my ass back from the fire. But there's nothing wrong with acknowledging it when it's due neither. Maybe we can try to find a happy medium between? Hmmm? Can we try while we start walking towards the fish pond? I don't mean to berate the point, but this whole "get murdered while attempting to take our time" thing is going to get real old if we keep hanging around here. So everyone grab some roast lizard on your way out, cause we're leavin and I'm not scrounging cave walls for edible mosses because any of you are afraid of a rare steak." Borthan makes sure his ever growing supply of weapons are well stowed before he begins walking, trusting it to hope, fate, and whatever sickly bond this group had that the others would fall in behind him. 




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 26/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil, feeling drained, doesn't have words to get involved in the tiff between Faedryl and Nilvae. He waits for Borthan's annoyed rumbling to pass before adding "Thank you for your aid, Lady Nilvae. I swear your magics guided my arm to victory. But I must agree- we should move on, post haste, as it were... Derendil also sheathes his longsword and moves to follow Borthan to the left.

----------


## RandomWombat

*"You can thank me with a game of cards when we make camp,"* flashing his toothy grin, Jimjar shuffles the deck between his hands, passing the cards back and forth through the air and then depositing them in his 'holster'. *"But don't you dare go easy on me."*

"We function because we want to stay alive," Topsy remarks as she uses her dagger to slit the throat of one of the fallen drow. Ront steps back into the tent hiding the supply cache, to put down the rest of their captives, with nothing further to ask of them.

Turning away from the gruesome killing, Shuushar remains quiet and begins walking down the tunnel towards the kuo-toa township. Turvy flinches and looks away, but waits for the others and falls into step beside Topsy once they're finished.

The long under-road continues. This passage is wider than the one before, excavated and reinforced and large enough around for trade caravans to move through between drow territory and Sloobludop. Side passages here are more distinct than before, as the worked tunnel means any dead ends and tiny nooks have been covered or carved out, and passages that actually lead somewhere have open 'doorways' around them.

As they march, they pass by a slightly larger passage leading off to their left. This one is marked with a small zurkhwood sign next to it: '_The Silken Paths_'.

Moving beyond it, they can see a swarm of glowing lights ahead, like hundreds of torches moving to and fro, several hundred feet down the road.

*"Lot of lights,"* Ront points out, nervously. His brutish bravado flakes away at the prospect of being so soundly outnumbered.

*Spoiler: Nature*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

The luminosity and color of the light (a soft red) matches that of the giant fire beetle, luminescent bugs used often by delvers of the dark to fashion torches or lanterns, as their natural glow can persist up to days after they are dead, far longer than a burning torch will last - and without eating up oxygen or accidentally igniting underground deposits of flammable gas.

They are normally docile and about as dangerous as a cat, to the average peasant. Some even keep them alive as pets and carry them around in lanterns, instead of harvesting their glowing guts. Judging by the number of lights, there must be a swarm of them ahead, however. What has caused such numbers to gather?


*Spoiler: DC 16*
Show

Swarms of giant fire beetles are jokingly referred to among dungeoneering entomologists as a 'red light district,' for the event typically marks their breeding season. The males can get testy and the females can get hungry, so wading through the swarm of beetles would probably result in nibbled toes and ankles at the very least, worse if one loses footing and ends up chewed on by a carpet of bugs.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

Faedryl strains her eyes through the Underdark's dark, trying to make out what the lights could be in so great a number. "Giant fire beetles, I think." It was an educated guess, but the lights seemed to be swarming too close together - and in too great a number - to be people. "Usually docile, sometimes domesticated. Don't step on them and they should leave you be." Navigating through them might require some gentle footsteps, but they'd probably be equal to the task. If worst came to worst they could try making a distraction of some sort and rush through. They weren't kept as pets for their vast intellect, after all.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae pouts at the entirely too correct remarks. You lot need to relax a bit. We are caught in a giant claustrophobic murdercave followed by lizard riding dark elf slavers, and you're entirely too logical for a situation this bizarre. She looks around their odd group. Alright, alright, this situation seems to be the normal for you. Nilvae smiles disarmingly, avoiding further introspection for anyone. 



Oooooh, pretty light. Nilvae says, her gut instinct is to investigate the natural phenomenon. Faedryl reminds her of the lethal nature of the Underdark however. Oh come on. Even your fireflies are murderous down here? I want one, or a dozen. Can I try to talk to them? Remember my particular set of skills.

Always keeping an eye on a safe way to (teleport) out, Nilvae approaches and when in talking distance, her voice starts to hum. [Beast Speech] Hey, you guys? We mean you no harm but you seem to know the area well. She prays to Silvanus not to overhear some insect sexy talk.

----------


## RandomWombat

With her magic taking hold, Nilvae approaches, and it gifts her understanding. A cacophonous choir of chittering and clicking and scraping and pheromone signals and flashing lights processed by her mind into speech through a magical synesthesia.

"Light. Female? Wall. Rock. Challenge. Egg? Female. Light. 
Rock. Flash. Fight? Fight. Wall. Up. Pretty. Rock? Eggs? Rock.
Win. Win. Win. Lose. Male. Pretty. Down. Back. Back. Floor.
Throw. Climb. Rock? Wall. Female? Smell. Wall? Up. Bright."

Their simple thoughts bombard her in waves. Her announcement does not reach deep into the roiling throng of bugs that cast the entire section of under-road in a blazing red light, as if lava were refracting through glass and illuminating the walls and ceiling in the patterns of swirling water and shadow. But some of the bugs take notice, three beetles breaking off to investigate their curious visitor.

"Human. Human? Danger? Talk. Human. Talk? Guys? Male. Male. Female? Talk."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

I say we just run through em. We've all been worse than beetle bit through all this. Borthan looks to the others, seeing if any of them are wounded enough that they might die to something as embarrassing as beetles.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

First overwhelmed, then utterly confused she replies. [Beast Speech]Uuuuh. Let me come back to you...we can only provide food and shelter... Nilvae doubles back and checks with the others, overhearing Borthan's comment.

Well, talking to a bunch of insects proved to be less insightful than I hoped. We might come by by providing shelter to mate, by providing food, or by simply disabling them. They are small critters, Stool and I might be able to disable more than just a few with our magic.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

"There's a reason we're trying to leave." Faedryl answers, a bit tired, to Nilvae. The Underdark certainly was filled with danger. "Perhaps we can donate part of the fresh lizard that was harvested to open us up a path?" She says as she scans the walls and ground for anything she could mold the earth on, without having to dedicate the stone-wand.

----------


## RandomWombat

"Food? Food. Hungry."

One of the beetles follows Nilvae back to the group, but the other two wander back into the throng. "Food?"

The under-road around them is worked stone, little loose dirt or rubble to shape without tapping into the wand's power. Looking at the glowing beetle and then past it at the others, Topsy concurs, "Easiest way to draw some away would be with food. If we toss it on one side of the path it should open up the other side for us to move past without getting ankle-bit. But it'll need to be big enough to be worth their time." She looks pointedly at Ront, who's hauling the big lizard tail over his shoulders.

The orc sneers and snorts. *"No. This is mine."*

"Walk past carrying that and they're going to be crawling all over you."

Ront looks at the swarm and contemplates the danger. *"Only bugs? Bah! Can squish bugs under feet. Agree with hunter,"* he nods at Borthan, in favor of simply charging through. Of their group, Faedryl and Jimjar are the most wounded, with a few bloody marks still seeping through makeshift fabric bandages wrapped around their wounds, made from the torn clothes of their fallen enemies. But Borthan could have sworn Jimjar was more injured than he looks now.

*"Anybody want to wager who can get to the other side with the fewest bites?"* Jimjar suggests playfully, twirling a coin between his fingers.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

Faedryl sighs, and shrugs. "Well if Ront wants to carry his lizard through the beetles I say we let him make that choice - he can go first, we'll be right behind you." She wasn't going to get into an argument with him and if he wanted to take all the attention with the still warm, still bloody lizard parts then...well, that was his choice to make. Better him than her.




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Cast Create Bonfire off to one side - hitting none of the beetles or us, of course - as a potential warm+bright distraction when we start going through, might give Ront and the rest of us some extra protection

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:33/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Following Faedryl's lead, Borthan starts handing out torches. He had wondered if he was ever going to find a use for them, but despite the groups proclivity for the dark, fire would always find a use. "They might be called fire beetles, but they don't like getting touched with a torch more than anyone else. Light up, and when we go through if you feel em gathering on you give em a wave with this and they might clear off. If they don't, run faster, kiddos." That done, Borthan motions for Ront to take the lead, then runs directly after him, lit torch at the ready.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae comes up to the burly orc and gets personal with him. Her fingers trace the muscular savage's chest, and she smiles. I am sure you can, and I for one am glad you are on our side, protecting us from danger like a true man. But when push comes to shove, please defend us before your price. A meal is not worth loosing warriors over. I think that much every orcish warlord would attest to.

She then turns to Borthan, her flirtatious routine immediately stopped by the half-elf's nasty look. Uh....could you help me light a torch? Or rather I should hold your tor... she blushes heavily as she notices the innuendo. You need both hands to f... Anyone whose darkvision depended on infravision could see Nilvae's face light up in a very hot red.

----------


## RandomWombat

Nilvae's advances inspire a jagged, tusked grin from the towering orc. *"That's right. I'm the strongest. That means I'm not scared of bugs,"* he announces, jutting a thumb from his fist and jabbing it into his chest. 

Topsy rolls her eyes as the group begins moving forward. Borthan passes out some torches, which Topsy and Turvy decline. Meanwhile Faedryl creates a bonfire off to the other side of the tunnel. 

The swarm of beetles crawl along the ground, pushing and shoving against one another. Once in a while one of them will go sailing through the air above the throng, tossed by another male in a fight over a female. The appearance of the new flames draws some of their attentions, and the bugs draw closer to investigate. Some of them are pulled away by Faedryl's bonfire, and the torches meant to ward them off attract them like moths, appearing to be especially bright potential mates. Finding it to be anything but makes the bugs riled up and angry. They can also smell the huge hunk of fresh meat carried by Ront, pulling the attention of hungry egg-laying females.

*Spoiler: Crossing the Swarm*
Show

Everyone make two saves. Those trained in Acrobatics can use it instead, if it is better than their Dex save. Anyone carrying a torch or named Ront has Disadvantage. Anyone not carrying a torch has Advantage, as the torchbearers take the heat (heh) off of them. Faedryl's bonfire decreased the DC by 1 each (already included in the DCs below).

First check is a DC 14 Dex save to avoid being bitten up by bugs. They take (3d4)[*8*] damage, or half as much on a successful save. If they succeed by 2 or more (DC 16), they take no damage at all.
Second check is a DC 11 Dex save to avoid tripping over bugs and falling into the swarm. Failing falls Prone and will need to make *two* more of the DC 14 Dex saves against being chewed by the swarm before they get clear.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 16/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

The mandatory dance classes Faedryl had been forced to suffer through for two decades of her youth paid off, as she darts between bugs with a grace that surprises even herself, weaving too and fro through the mass. If she'd been forced to learn by dancing through fire beetles she might have taken to it more - it was, she would admit to no one but herself, quite exciting, despite their predicament, tapping her toes here and there, constantly on the edge of a misstep or a fall, but she comes through it to the other side with a twirl, having received nothing beyond minor scratches from which the pain was already vanishing.






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Taking a torch, Sarith runs through at breakneck speed, choosing haste over safety. The glimmering flame might attract the bugs but their tiny legs were insufficient to keep pace with Sarith's speed - but a misstep sends him tumbling forwards and threatens to bring him into the bug's grasping maw. He throws out a hand to catch himself before he falls flat, pushing all his weight down onto it and carrying the momentum to push forwards, flipping over fully before coming back down onto his feet with the agility of a shimmercat. The minor interruption in his pace doesn't stop him, even if it did slow him slightly, but he still arrives safe and sound, and the look on his face portrays to the entire group that he _meant_ to do that, and that it wasn't simply a hasty recovery from tripping over like an idiot. 





*Spoiler: Saves*
Show


From discord:
Faedryl: 21, 19
Sarith: 18, 9, 18, 21

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:25/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan quickly tosses the torch when he realizes his mistake, but that doesn't stop him from getting swarmed and bitten a couple dozen of times, leading him to curse and sputter in dwarvish. When Derendil stumbles and tumbles directly into the hoard of beetles, Borthan curses again, but with a yowl of pain the quaggoth pitched upward and came sprinting through the beetles, frantically clawing and scratching at himself to get the little monsters off. "You ok, Biggun?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 2/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil looks angry, upset, and drained of energy. "Run through the beetles they said. It'll be fine, they said. That hurt more than the godsdamned giant lizard!"

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh 
Concentration: - 

Stool runs and agitates about as many firebugs as he can. You can hear a faint psychic crying from the little shroom as it is incredibly overwhelmed by the situation. They run and drop, being covered in bugs. As they rise, their excess bulk is eaten and yet more bugs attached to its rear. Stool starts to run again and clears this with as little grace as someone can.

He runs to Derendil and hums a song of healing. A tiny spectral fire bug of healing flutters around the quaggoth. Who said myconid druids didn't have a sense of humor?

*Spoiler*
Show

Failing every roll taking 24 damage, 16 absorbed by Symbiotic Entity.
Healing Derendil for 28.
 






*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Well, I am not coddling bugs tonight.  Nilvae says as she transforms into a cloud of glittery dust. [Beast Speech] Y'all are too flipping horny for your own good. **** somewhere else. you can hear the cloud shout as she sees Derendil being eaten alive.

A bit concerned she looks at the elven prince being on the verge of collapse. She was gonna joke at his expense but genuine concern replaces that.

----------


## RandomWombat

The crossing of the beetle sea is no painless feat. Many of the crew's number suffer bites and scratches on their ankles and shins, but all reach the other side alive and... mostly well, after some healing from Stool and Shuushar. Through suffering and bloodshed, Ront has kept most of his lizard tail uneaten, slapping a few straggling bugs off of it with an angry grunt.

Nilvae makes the crossing with ease, dissolving into mist and then reforming at the other side. After giving the bugs some space and doing some triage for their more wounded members, everyone is back in fighting condition.

"Remind me to pick up bug repellent when we finally get to civilization," Topsy tells her brother, pushing off of the wall after the others are ready to go.

Shuushar gets up off of the ground, no longer covered in bleeding bite marks after his roll through the bugs. "Ngh. Sloobludop is nod far now. Jusd ahead is the stadgue of Blipdoolpoolp." He points forward, along the main road.

*Spoiler: NPC Results*
Show

Dr. Donk tiptoes through the tulips safely.
Jimjar takes *8* damage.
Ront takes *24* damage.
Shuushar takes *24* damage.
Topsy and Turvy make it through unscathed, Topsy's Dex save carrying her through some poor rolls.

Shuushar uses Prayer of Healing and Cure Wounds to restore *9* to Borthan, Faedryl, Stool, Jimjar, Ront, and himself. He heals himself for another *11* and Ront for another *7* with his remaining spell slots.


*Spoiler: Religion*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

They have a statue made of poop?


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

Blipdoolpoolp is the patron goddess of the kuo-toa. She has a deep hatred for those who have enslaved and menaced the kuo-toa in the past, including illithids, humans, and all varieties of elves. As a goddess she is reclusive and secretive, making information about her scarce. But she is known for having wild mood swings that would make Umberlee look rational.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

Though the kuo-toa worship Blipdoolpoolp as the Sea Mother and have fabricated an entire history of how she came to be and how she created the kuo-toa. In truth it was _they_ who created _her_, with religious fanaticism created by the illithids' wounding influence on the kuo-toan psyche. So mad is their devotion that they can confabulate gods into reality. Kuo-toan numbers are small enough that they have not yet spawned a deity of truly dangerous power, but this ability has made others wary of provoking the twisted fish-folk.

The most common sacrifice to Blipdoolpoolp is drowing live humanoids in offering to her.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

Faedryl nods in thanks for the healing. "Unless anyone desperately wants to stop we should keep moving and get there as quickly as we can. I don't know what Kua-Toa beds are like, but I'd expect they're preferable to the stone floor."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:34/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan said his please and thank yous for the healing before nodding to Faedryl. Whatever their beds are like, it's their walls we're interested in. It might give the drow a moment of hesitation, and that's time we can use to sleep, heal, and regroup."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 30/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil sighed in relief as the healing magic of the firefly soothed his wounds. "Thank you, little one. That's much better." He pats the myconid appreciatively before getting ready to move.

----------


## RandomWombat

With a majority preferring to press forward, the group continues to trudge through the tunnel. The walls become less and less well-kept as they go on. The wear of time has made some of the supports weaker, and they've been propped up with wooden pillars. Ahead the path begins to expand, opening up into a huge chamber lit by red, fire-beetle lanterns hanging from wooden stakes. The huge chamber is reinforced with layers of crude wooden scaffolding built around schizophrenic murals painted upon its domed wall. Images of pelagic creatures, crustaceans, and gruesome acts of sacrifice.

Littering the chipped, stone-tiled floor are the bodies of slain kuo-toa, their bodies marked by corrosion and flesh-eating affliction as well has by claw marks and torn throats. Above them looms a fountain and statue, depicting a naked humanoid woman with the arms of a lobster. A lobster's head has been broken from the woman's shoulders and now lay in the shallow fountain at her feet. Water spurts from a crude pipe inside of the statue's neck, spurting like an infinite fountain of blood. Vomit and blood has been sprayed and smeared upon the goddess' statue, defacing it.

Perched upon her shoulders, a giant vulture-like creature bathes itself in the 'blood' spurting from her severed neck. A second of the creatures is using a kuo-toa spear to poke and prod at a manta ray creature stuck barely submerged in the shallow pool, hissing at its tormentor who cackles in cruel amusement. Neither of the monsters has noticed the crew yet, too busy indulging in their bullying of the manta creature and festive celebration of the defaced monument.

To the right of the path into the large domed chamber is a stone bunker with a few arrow-slots along the exterior wall, lined with wooden spikes.

*Spoiler: Arcana or Religion: Vulture Creatures*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

These must be aarakocra, a race of winged bird humanoids.


*Spoiler: DC 8*
Show

By their twisted forms one can mark them as demonic, abyssal influence clear in the haphazard design of their hideous aspects.


*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

These creatures are vrocks, destructive vulture-like demons. Their deafening shrieks are well-known, and they are known to produce flesh-eating spores.


*Spoiler: DC 16*
Show

Greedy creatures, the vrock will gather and horde valuables and baubles in their lairs. Their selfishness is stemmed only in service of those able to cow them into submission, or in alliances with their own kind, with whom they cooperate surprisingly well towards shared goals.

In spite of their greed, trying to bribe or reason with a vrock often results in being attacked. They see no reason to bargain when they can simply slaughter a petitioner and take what they have. Vrocks have a gleeful love of murder and the taste of humanoid flesh.

A vrock's scream can momentarily stun non-demons, and they possess the unreliable ability to temporarily summon dretches and other vrocks if pressed to desperation.



*Spoiler: Religion or Nature: Manta Ray*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 5*
Show

It's a stingray. They're usually gentle animals, but their sting is quite venomous.


*Spoiler: DC 10*
Show

The name escapes you, but these ray-like aberrations are a common threat within the Darklake. They have no venom, but their barbed tails can rip flesh and cause bleeding.


*Spoiler: DC 14*
Show

They are known as ixitxachitl, or ixitx for short. They are intelligent and cooperate with one another, enslaving weaker aquatic creatures and even captured humanoids. These creatures are known to frequently lair in cyclopean demonic temples hidden in the dark reaches of the Darklake and other waterways.

Some of their kind are skilled at grabbing onto victims with their bite and dragging them under the water to a drowning grave.


*Spoiler: DC 18: Religion only*
Show

The ixitxachitl are servants of the Prince of Demons, Demogorgon. An entity whose mere name and knowledge carry a seed of corruption and madness. To delve too deep into his secrets is perhaps more dangerous than to remain ignorant.

But his servants are not him, and some things are known about them. The ixitxachitl worship the Prince of Demons, and compete with his other aquatic servants for his favor; such as the fiendish Merrow. They have their own clergy and by the jagged twin-headed anchor carved into this ray's back it seems to be a member of that clergy. 

The ixitxachitl are also remarkable for their connection to vampirism. Some of their kind exhibit the qualities of a vampire spawn, yet display no aversion to running water. It is unknown if these vampiric ixitx can spread the affliction of vampirism or not.



*Spoiler: Perception*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

A bit of movement can be seen within the bunker, through one of the arrow slots.


*Spoiler: DC 16*
Show

A fishy eye peers out, looking at the newcomers. A kuo-toa has managed to survive the encounter with the vrocks by hiding inside of the bunker.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

Faedryl narrows her eyes. Demons tormenting...demon spawn? Certainly the Ixitx were no innocent from what she recalled; they made their homes in demon lairs. Quiet movement off to one side caught her attention, but she's unable to make out who or what they are. More demons, perhaps. She silently gestures a short spellcast, quietly creating the image of words on the ground for the others to read without needing to speak aloud - just in case it might cause them to be overheard. The writing is clear, but nevertheless aesthetically elvish, script. _"Vrock demons. Manta demon. More in house?"_ it reads as she looks to the others for their next steps. This wasn't exactly the welcoming she had been hoping for. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Minor Illusion on the ground for writing.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Shillelagh 
Concentration: - 

Stool can link minds for easy talking. it appears in Faedryl's head. Bird demon can be distract with shiny thing. Manta is poor suffering. Should not be suffering.

*Spoiler*
Show

Using Rapport spores on the group.








*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

You want us to enter the water with drowning manta demons? It is ****ing vampire demon manta ray clerics, you hear me? But I see the kuo toa too. Should I go and talk to them? Nilvae mentally shouts.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:34/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

Borthan was starting to get used to the telepathic communication through exposure more than anything. He quickly rattled off his thoughts. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to take on those beasties from the path when that defensive position is just a stone's throw away. I don't know what's in there, but I say we rush them, then fire on the demons from there. What do ya'll think?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 30/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil, looking drained, voices concern telepathically. "I won't be fighting at one hundred percent in the coming battle, but that means I can fully take advantage of my spells. I'm a defensive caster, after all. I will hold the door in this operation."

----------


## RandomWombat

_The ixitx may be an abyssal aberration, but the first step to the path of redemption is being shown a helping hand when you need it most. We should aid the creature,_ Shuushar's consideration reaches the others over the sporewaves.

*If nothing else, we are the creature's only way back to open water. If it is a cleric it must be of greater mind than those big, dumb lizard demons. We might be able to leverage that for some information on the demonic incursion,* Jimjar suggests.

Arms folded, Ront sizes up the two giant vultures from the edge of the room. His thoughts drift through the telepathic connection, not directed at any person in particular. The orc may not realize he's broadcasting them. *Big, but kind of scrawny. Think I could take one. Wings though... can't fly. Maybe I could throw the gnome at them?*

_Let's not,_ the telepathic reply startles him as Topsy comments on his ingenious plan. _I agree with Borthan. If we make use of the chokepoint, we can get rid of their flight advantage._

*Mrm. Force them to come fight us fair. I like this plan,* Ront nods.

A few images of fear and danger fill the airwaves as Dr. Donk looks on the verge of bolting; the clacking of his hooves and the braying would surely tip off the vrock to their location. But Turvy acts quickly, reaching up to pat the donkey on the nose and focusing his mind, radiating peaceful thoughts through the mental connection. His intervention averts a potential disaster. He doesn't seem to have an opinion on the plan.

*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show

Whichever plan the party decides on, they can roll Stealth and Initiative. 

*Helping the Ixitx*
Anyone with a Stealth result higher than 11 can act in a surprise round on the Vrock. Anyone lower may take a single movement before combat starts.

*Using the Bunker*
Anyone with a Stealth result higher than 11 can move into the bunker and freely position themself before initiative starts. Anyone with lower may only take a single movement before combat starts.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish, Armour of Agathys (10/10)
Concentrating: --

Faedryl nods quietly in agreement, but whether it's fatigue or unease at the situation ahead, her feet fail to match the pure skill on display from her fellow drow, and she's not able to reach the bunker.



*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show


Faedryl Stealth: 3 (Nat 1, obvs)
Faedryl Initiative: 7

Movement taken on map.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

Sarith appears to blend into darkness itself as he becomes one with shadow and silence, creeping into the bunker with his crossbow held at the ready. He's able to slip inside undetected by the Vrock, for this is his true place, his true home - the moment before a fight, the moment before bringing death. 



*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show


Sarith Stealth: 26 (Nat 20, obvs)
Sarith Initiative: 14

Movement taken on map.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool bloats itself and draws its fierce wooden stick and wooden pot lid. It charges ahead and clangs to war with its little ensemble of armory.

*Spoiler*
Show

Init 19
Stealth 19
Using Symbiotic Entity, moving and double moving ahead.







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae's mind is completely taken aback by the thought of willingly going near demons (plural!). She inches closer, humming her favorite tune from her childhood.

*Spoiler*
Show

Init 9
Stealth 7

----------


## RandomWombat

As those able to move more quickly without drawing attention rush in, the wide-eyed kuo-toa inside grabs his harpoon crossbow and blubbers, "Frends? Hewlp fight birds?"

Caught off guard in their festivities, the vrock outside are slow to react, giving some of the stragglers time to catch up and reach the entrance to the bunker. Their not quite innocent victim takes advantage of the lapse in attention to sink beneath the water and poise itself.

"Don'd worry, we're here blub'elp!" as he waddles inside, Shuushar soothes his kin. Behind him Ront shoves his way inside and grabs his heavy crossbow, which fits more comfortably in his bulky hands than the hand crossbow he'd been forced to use until now. Jimjar and Topsy each prepare their own weapons, a hand crossbow and the magic slingshot respectively.

With eyes elsewhere, and Dr. Donk backing away into the corner of the room, they are soon joined instead by a hissing giant spider.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

NPCs outside double move.
Topsy and Jimjar ready attacks for if a vrock enters view.
Dr. Donk moves out of field of view inside the bunker and swaps out.

Ixitx Cleric readies an action.

The full party is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Because the enemy of my enemy is my friend, initiative will not be broken by the NPCs that are also hostile to the vrocks unless instigated.
I assumed since it places everyone together that Spore and Amnestic wish to use average for their pairs. If not I'll switch 'er back.

Turvy - n20
Jimjar - 22
Ront - 19
Ixitx Cleric - 19
Shuushar - 16
Mr. Spide - 16
*Nilvae/Stool* - 13
Topsy - 13
*Borthan* - 12
*Derendil* - 11
*Sarith/Faedryl* - 10.5

Vrock A - 10

Kuo-Toa Harpooner - 9

Vrock B - 8

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: Faerie Fire

Faedryl's slower off the mark than the rest of their group, but she is still sufficiently fleet of foot to make it to the building...if only thanks to her mental powers. As her feet and mind carry her to 'safety', she conjures up the elven runes for _Sparks. Rainbow. Burst._ and collects them together into a ball of light, flinging it underarm towards the demons where it bursts in a shower of prismatic colours, attempting to drench the abyssal monsters in bright lights and make them a clearer target for her allies. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action:* Cast _Faerie Fire_ during the move to hit the Vrocks, but not the Ixitx. Saves: (4d20)[*13*][*14*][*20*][*8*](55) (rolling 4 in case of advantage due to demonhood) + DexMod vs. DC14.
*Move:* On map, using *Bonus Action* shove on herself to get the last 5' past Derendil.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

With the battle beginning to be joined Sarith readies his crossbow, loading a heavy bolt in the mechanism and preparing to loose it. The bird demons seemed to be the priority, so he'd focus on them first.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


Not sure if Sarith can shoot someone from inside the house through the 'window'.
If so:
*Bonus Action:* Steady Aim.
*Action:* Attack Vrock B. (1d20+8)[*24*](1d20+8)[*11*] (1d10+4)[*12*]+(2d6)[*7*] 
If not,
*Bonus Action:* Hide. (1d20+6)[*9*]
*Action:* Ready Action: Attack (using the rolls above) for when a vrock comes into range/sight.

Either way, no movement.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:34/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st

When Borthan saw that not everyone had made it to the bunker, her stopped outside. Looking to the others, he gives a confident grin and says "Dibs on front line! Now get inside slowpokes!": Borthan turns his left shoulder towards the vrocks and readies a double axe throw if the demon birds came close. "HEY! YOU UGLY SUMBITCH! No, not you- the REALLY ugly one. Come git it."



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Readying not 2, but 3 thrown weapon attacks. Hand Axe, Hand Axe, and a dagger. (1d20+6)[*24*] to hit, (1d20+6)[*23*] to hit, and (1d20+6)[*25*] to hit. First axe- (1d6+4)[*9*] second axe- (1d6+3)[*8*] and dagger- (1d4+4)[*7*]. If the second axe hits then it deals an extra (1d8)[*8*] damage. If Borthan is invisible, I'll roll 3 more d20 for advantage- (1d20+6)[*14*], (1d20+6)[*12*] and (1d20+6)[*20*]



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 30/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil, ready to make his stand at the door, realizes at the same time as Borthan that not everyone has made it in. When their foolish ranger decides to draw their attention with a shout, Derendil aggressively pushed past him to make more room for the stragglers. "Get inside! Quickly! We'll hold them back and fall back behind you to hold the door!



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Derendil moves to make room and takes the dodge action, forming a makeshift battle line with Borthan (or his disembodied voice if it's dark here). Readied reaction to cast shield if he's gonna get bonked, which will restore 2 ward hp.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool charges forward to free the "stingray" cleric. Retreat, little fish. Big bird is nasty. it should echo in its mind.

*Spoiler*
Show

Bonus Action Shillelagh
Double Move to aid the "stingray"







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Hey, scary nightmare demons? How's this for a start? she says as she closes her eyes and throws a stone that somehow still hits.

*Spoiler*
Show

25 to hit on the left vrock
9 damage.



[/QUOTE]

----------


## RandomWombat

The chamber is lit by the soft red glow of fire beetle lanterns, mounted upon crude wooden tripod torch stands, rendering Borthan visible - for the moment.

A flash of colorful sparks begins to swirl around the vrocks, but they draw in their wings and fan them out in a wide arc, blowing away the magic during takeoff. The group readies themselves, forming battle lines and bunkering down to await the enemy. Save for Stool, who charges in and splashes into the fountain, deep enough to cover most of his body. The bottom of the fountain shrine is littered with humanoid bones and skulls.

Plucking out a pebble, Nilvae enchants it with magic and hurls it, striking the demon that had been perched on the broken statue as it descends upon Stool. It tries to grab the small mushroom person, but his slippery wet surface causes the vrock's jagged claws to slip off. Its partner cackles mockingly at the failure and flies towards the rest.

The others are ready for its approach. As it moves away, the manta weaves magical signs with its barbed tail and the scars on its back seep alien blue blood. A dull toll like a broken bell rings out, but the vrock shakes off the effects. A pair of axes bite into it, and Sarith's bolt finds its mark after it moves into his range of view. A smaller bolt from Jimjar likewise hits home.

The kuo-toa pulls himself together and tries to shoot through his own window, but the harpoon goes astray. He severs the rope attaching it and begins to load in a new harpoon. A pebble from Topsy's slingshot misses its target as well, and she pulls back inside. "Brother, get inside!"

Derendil holds the line, conjuring a magical field of force to hold back the demon's fanged beak as he weaves around its claw swipes.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Faerie Fire, but the vrocks resist the spell.
Sarith readies an attack.
Borthan readies an attack. It'd just be two attacks (regular and Gloomstalker bonus), since Ready doesn't include a bonus offhand.
Derendil dodges.
Stool Dashes into the fountain, plopping into the water.
Nilvae throws a Magic Stone, hitting Vrock A for *9* damage.

Vrock A flies down and attempts to Grapple Stool, but misses.

Harpooner readies an attack.

Vrock B approaches, triggering a bunch of actions.
Ixitx Cleric casts Toll the Dead, but Vrock B resists.
Borthan hits Vrock B with two handaxes for *4* and *8* damage after reduction.
Sarith shoots Vrock B for a *9* damage sneak attack after reduction.
Harpooner takes a shot with his harpoon gun, but misses.
Topsy shoots at Vrock B, but misses.
Jimjar shoots Vrock B for *7* damage sneak attack after reduction.
Vrock B misses Derendil with a claw, and its Bite is deflected by his Shield spell.

The full party is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Turvy - n20
Jimjar - 22
Ront - 19
Ixitx Cleric - 19
Shuushar - 16
Mr. Spide - 16
*Nilvae/Stool* - 13
Topsy - 13
*Borthan* - 12
*Derendil* - 11
*Sarith/Faedryl* - 10.5

Vrock A - 10

Kuo-Toa Harpooner - 9

Vrock B - 8

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

Faedryl doesn't let the demon's resistance of her faerie fire get her down - she well knows that they can be resistant to magical techniques, but that's hardly any reason to stop using them. Instead, taking a step behind Ront, she conjures up flames beneath the closest vulture demon, seeking to cut off its avenues of attack, and allow her party an easier chance of bringing it down.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action:* Create Bonfire directly west of Derendil. (2d20)[*19*][*20*](39) (adv?)+Dex vs DC14 or (1d8)[*1*] fire damage. 
*Move:* On map.
*Bonus Action:* None. Doesn't seem like a shove would do much at this stage. 





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: -- 
Concentrating: 

One shot landed, and Sarith doesn't see a need to change his approach. He racks another bolt into the heavy crossbow and looses it directly at the closest target. Focus fire would be the best way to deal with these monsters. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Steady Aim.
*Action:* Attack Vrock B. (1d20+8)[*22*](1d20+8)[*9*](1d10+4)[*10*]+(2d6)[*8*]
*Move:* None.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:34/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Bless
Concentrating on: Hunter's Mark (10 rounds)
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

When Borthan saw Stool run deeper in and Nilvae approach the vrock, he realized that if he didn't step out from the door his squad was going to get hurt. He couldn't reach the kid, but he stepped in the way of Nilvae, mumbling the word PREY. as his senses flooded with more information. Then he lashed out at the demon, trying his best to hurt it with his weapons.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Bonus action Hunter's Mark, then a single attack- (1d20+6)[*22*] to hit and (1d8+4)[*6*] damage, plus (1d6)[*6*]. In case of crit- (1d8)[*7*] and (1d6)[*6*]



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 30/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (2hp/8hp) 
Concentrating on: Blur (10 rounds)
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 1/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil nearly smacks himself in the head now that he remembers he has full access to his magic. He lifts his longsword and utters a chant, and suddenly his form is hazy and distorted, making him difficult to hit. Then a wiggle of the sword and his next strike against the vrock is guided by magic.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Derendil casts Blur. Bonus action for true strike. Reaction prepared for shield.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool bonks the bird in the shin. and makes it breathe its nasty spores.

*Spoiler*
Show

Halo of Spores for turn 1 if allowed: 4 unless DC 14 con save
Halo of Spores turn 2: 4
Shillelagh crits for 16 damage blunt/magic and i assume symbiotic entity bonus damage also crits for 7 (if not just 3)







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nope nope nope. Nilvae says before making a parting shot and retreating to the safehouse. 

*Spoiler*
Show

14 to hit on Borthan's enemy.
8 damage.

----------


## RandomWombat

Flapping its wings, the vrock hops up from the touch of the fire. Sarith's bolt finds its mark, punching through even the tough demon hide. Borthan's blade is just as effective, his Mark allowing it to penetrate deeper. With the others inflicting mounting wounds, Derendil weaves magic around himself to shroud himself from the demon's sight and prepare for an attack.

With a sweep of its wing, the vrock knocks aside Nilvae's magic stone this time, but the motion leaves it open for Jimjar to land a hand crossbow bolt in its chest. A slight streak of white light follows his weapon as it flies through the air, curving around Derendil's head. Ront's larger bolt flies above, nicking a wing.

Mr. Spide rears back and launches a web, but the gob of silk flies too high and sails past to splat on the floor. Topsy's slingshot stone faces a similar fate. The kuo-toa, hands still shaking, shoots and his harpoon clatters against the arrow slit itself, failing to leave the bunker.

Meanwhile in the fountain, Stool's mighty blow rams into the vulture demon's gut, knocking the air out of its lungs. As it heaves in a breath, it chokes on his spores - a grand irony. Turvy steels his courage and, despite his sister's protests, moves up to help the little mushroom. "Laven Byon Seek!" he releases a trio of force missiles that ram into the statue-defacing demon. It is looking particularly hurt, already having suffered some wounds in the fight against the kuo-toa.

Shuushar follows Turvy, running back out of the bunker to go to Stool's aid. As it grabs at Stool again and its claws slide off of the mushroom's slick surface, the second vrock loses courage and turns tail to run, earning it a jab of the ixitx's barbed tail that leaves a bloody trail behind it.

The remaining vrock pushes past Derendil and Borthan, landing again and stretching out its wings. Pores open up throughout its body and spray a noxious cloud of black spores into the air, which choke those who breathe them in and latch to the skin, gnawing at them like a thousand angry gnats. Topsy manages to avoid the blast by hunkering down and covering herself with her clothes.

*Spoiler: Sarith*
Show

The sight of the spores causes the drow to freeze momentarily. Something in him is caught like a deer in the headlights, and he can feel a sensation like worms crawling beneath his skin. Like a rabid man fears water, he feels an irrational panic taking root, forcing him to fight it down.

*Spoiler: DC 14 Insight*
Show

This fear is not his own. Something is afraid of these spores and trying to compel him to flee from them. Something _inside_ his body.



*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Create Bonfire, but the Vrock B resists the flames.
Sarith shoots the Vrock B for a *9* damage sneak attack.
Borthan casts Hunter's Mark and lands another hit for *12* damage on Vrock B. The Mark is a spell, so I'm treating it as magic weapon damage.
Derendil casts Blur and True Strike.
Nilvae throws a Magic Stone, but misses.
Stool clobbers Vrock A for a *23* damage crit, plus *4* halo of spores damage.

Ixitx Cleric jabs at Vrock A with its tail, but misses.
Turvy casts Magic Missile, dealing *21* damage to Vrock A.
Jimjar uses True Strike and lands a *7* damage sneak attack on Vrock B.
Ront shoots Vrock B for *6* damage.
Shuushar dashes.
Mr. Spide launches a web at Vrock B, but misses.
Topsy shoots Vrock B for a miss.

Vrock A attempts to Grapple Stool, but again meets with failure. Frustrated, it begins to flee, provoking an AoO from Stool and the Ixitx.
Ixitx Cleric hits with its barbed tail for *4* damage and Bleed.
If Stool does not KO it, it will be about 4 spaces north off of the map.

Harpooner misses again.

Vrock B releases Spores. Sarith, Nilvae, Derendil, and Borthan are Poisoned, giving Disadvantage on attacks and ability checks. At the start of their turns this round they take *3* poison damage. At the end of each turn they can make a DC 14 Con save to end the poison.
Sarith is Vulnerable to Vrock Spores and takes *4* damage instead. He must make a DC 10 San save or become Frightened of the Vrocks for the rest of the scene. Failing this save will enter the Fearful Panic without the need to roll for one.

The full party is up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

Turvy - n20
Jimjar - 22
Ront - 19
Ixitx Cleric - 19
Shuushar - 16
Mr. Spide - 16
*Nilvae/Stool* - 13
Topsy - 13
*Borthan* - 12
*Derendil* - 11
*Sarith/Faedryl* - 10.5

Vrock A - 10

Kuo-Toa Harpooner - 9

Vrock B - 8

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: Create Bonfire

The arcanist is unsurprised the flames failed to injure the Vrock, but it has shifted its position, moving it into a killing circle, one which she adds to even as she calls up the sound of the tolling bell from her throat. She sees that one demon has fled - fine, they likely can't chase it down - but they can at least make sure one falls.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Action:*  Toll the Dead. (2d20)[*4*][*14*](18)+WisMod vs. DC14 or (1d12)[*9*] Necrotic.
*Move:* On map.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions: Poisoned(?) 
Concentrating: 

Sarith's skin crawls - and his muscles, and his blood, and _everything_. For a moment he feels alive again, truly alive, but only because of the fear that's within him that has sent every nerve ending, every pounding blood vessel, every inch of him, twitching and writhing. Part of him wants to run, to abandon the field, but just as his foot moves backwards his military training takes over. Drow do not run. They might _retreat_, but they never _run._ Years of this literally beaten into him and no matter how much his skin crawled his muscles fought against them and forced him to stand, to aim, and to shoot his crossbow once more.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


San roll from discord: 18
Insight: 13

*Bonus Action:* Steady Aim.
*Action:* Attack Vrock B. Steady Aim cancels disadvantage. (1d20+8)[*19*]. *Damage:* (1d10+4)[*6*] *8* (Piercer reroll from discord)+(2d6)[*9*]

Consave: (1d20+3)[*16*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:31/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: Poisoned
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan's pain drives the workings of his spell out of his mind, and his followup assaults are weaker as a result. But that doesn't stop him.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Attack rolls with disadvantage from poison- (1d20+6)[*18*] and (1d20+6)[*8*] for axe one, (1d20+6)[*12*] or (1d20+6)[*14*] for attack two. if either of those hits they do (1d8+4)[*7*] or (1d8+4)[*12*] if both hit. Con save vs. poisoned- (1d20+2)[*7*]



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (2hp/8hp), Poisoned (DC 14)
Concentrating on: Blur (9 rounds)
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil, shrouded in a magical haze, encants a charm to aid his strike. He is not hampered by the demon's spores the same way the others were by quirks of his current form, and he intended to take advantage of that.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Truestrike to for advantage, (1d20+5)[*10*] or (1d20+5)[*10*] to hit and (1d8+3)[*4*] damage. (1d8)[*8*] for a crit.Gotta remember that Derendil is immune to poison shenangans.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool nods to the flappy fish and strokes its ridges to try and calm this "animal". Then it waddles back into the fray, bravely next to the fire.

*Spoiler*
Show

Shillelagh (1d20+6)[*24*] (1d8+4)[*9*] (1d6)[*3*] [/roll]2d4[/roll]  8 damage for halo. (vs DC 14 Con)







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | poisoned (3/turn, disadvantage)| Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae coughs and curses the vrock for poisoning her. She coughs up blood, and her stomach turns but the gripping spores will not leave. Not for now.

*Spoiler*
Show

Mind Sliver DC 14 Int save or take (1d6)[*4*] psychic damage and reduce the next check by (1d4)[*4*]

----------


## RandomWombat

The remaining vrock bounces back, spinning around and battering Borthan and Derendil's attacks away with its wings. Magic rolls off of its feathers like water from a duck's back, washed away. But in the midst of attacks from every angle, Sarith and Jimjar each land a deadly shot. 

Letting the other vrock flee, Stool tries to comfort the ixitx. The ray cringes away from his touch, but before it can do anything more to protest the myconid is off, hopping over the edge of the pool to waddle up and slam an enchanted chunk of wood into the remaining demon's shin.

A bombardment of magic missiles cascades past them, pummeling the vrock. This is the final straw. With a heaving, rattling breath and an avian screech, the vrock collapses to the ground in a heap.

With the demon down, Shuushar and Jimjar hurry over to Borthan and Nilvae. *"Use a wet cloth to help wipe them off!"* the gnome calls over a suggestion, trying to wipe away the vrock spores from Nilvae's wounds.

The ixitx watches them from the edge of the fountain, its alien face unreadable.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Toll the Dead, but Vrock B resists.
Sarith shoots Vrock B for *8* damage. He shakes off the Poison.
Borthan misses with two axe swings. He takes another *3* poison damage.
Derendil misses with a claw swing.
Nilvae casts Mind Sliver, but Vrock B resists. She takes another *3* poison damage.
Stool clobbers Vrock B for *12* damage.

Turvy casts Magic Missile at 2nd level, hitting the Vrock B four times for *20* damage.
Jimjar casts True Strike and sneak attacks Vrock B for *8* damage. Vrock is KO'd.

Combat has ended.

Shuushar and Jimjar Help Nilvae and Borthan on their next saves.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Faedryl sighs with relief as the vulturedemon dies. There was still another out there, but hopefully it would have the meager intelligence sufficient to recognise that it stood no chance against them and would steer well clear. She makes sure not to stow her weapons or relax though, as there was still the matter of the ixitx outstanding. She watches it warily, fingers not generating a new spell but remaining limber enough to do so. "Does anyone speak fishdemon?" She does not, of course. The languages of the lower planes hadn't been of interest to her studies, and certainly not with any great focus on aquatic demonspawn. Whenever she'd needed a relevant tome translated, House Melad had simply employed someone to make a translated copy of it. 





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 25/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith stays silent, his mind still focused on the feeling of revulsion and skincrawling that he felt in the face of the vrock's spores. Was it connected to his amnesia? Were demons responsible? Something within him told him that there was a connection, but what that meant, and what it was, was beyond his grasp. All he could do was ruminate on the matter in bitter quiet as the others tended to the fight. Though he cares little for what the others think, now that the fight is over he uses the time to look around the room they're in, seeking out any objects that might be valuable for the future - if only to keep from the others interrupting his thoughts.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:28/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan coughed and patted at the spores, scratching them off his skin with the assistance of Jimjar. Once they were scrubbed off Bort felt a bit better, and he gave the gambler gnome a grin. "Don't know what I'd do without you at this point, Jimbo. Parting ways is gonna be a bit harder now that you've saved my life a few times AND washed poisonous demon spores off my arms." Borthan turns to Faedryl and responds to her question. "I don't speak demon and I don't speak fish, but something tells me some more of us should pick up the language of the Abyss. Save those who do a lot of translating trouble."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil, still whole and hearty thanks to his defensive magics, uttered a brief thanks to his arcane ward for protecting him so much over the last day. He was, however, nearly depleted of spell energy, his connection to the weave flagging. "I do hope we're done fighting for the day. I'm feeling completely drained, mind, body, and soul."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

"I can cast a spell which will let me understand them; but not vice versa, and it takes time. The demon may assume not realise what I am casting and take it as a gesture of aggression. Someone versed in demontongue would certainly be preferable." She agrees with Borthan. Much as she wished it could, her magic could not do everything and anything - not yet, anyway. She did have centuries yet to learn and grow.

----------


## RandomWombat

*"A gambler's road takes him all kinds of places- as does a bounty hunter's! I'm sure our paths will cross from time to time,"* the cheerful svirfneblin grins back at Borthan, tossing the demon-spore-soiled cloth away. *"Sides, we got a ways to go yet before we can sleep comfortably."*

The manta monster continues to observe them. Perhaps to some surprise, it speaks in Undercommon with a wet snarl to its voice. Yet still a bit more intelligible than kuo-toa burbling. "No need, taking your magic. I know the speech." Dipping below the water to wet its throat, the creature emerges again. "Are not holding weapons at me. What is it you want?"

While the others speak, the surviving kuo-toa grabs a spear and leaves the bunker, driving it repeatedly into the vrock's unconscious body until the demon is soundly dead, and its body begins to deteriorate. The fish man gets on his knees and lowers his head towards the party. "Blubank you, bublank you, sdrangers! Dey would 'ave eaden me!"

Inside the bunker, Sarith pokes around. It's a pretty spartan construction, containing a stone bench and folding wooden table, and some shelves. The shelves perhaps held some of the kuo-toa's equipment, but are empty now. The dead outside are carrying shields coated in an adhesive gelatin, and wooden scepter decorated with sharp pieces of coral.

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

*Spoiler: Kuo-toa*
Show

3x Spears
3x Sticky Shields
*Spoiler: Sticky Shield*
Show

When a creature misses the wielder with a melee weapon attack, the wielder may use its sticky shield to catch the weapon as a reaction. The attacker must succeed on a DC 11 Strength saving throw, or the weapon becomes stuck to the kuo-toan shield. If the weapons wielder cant or wont let go of the weapon, the wielder is grappled while the weapon is stuck. While stuck, the weapon cant be used. A creature can pull the weapon free by taking an action to make a DC 11 Strength check and succeeding.

The gelatin remains good for about a day before it is too covered in dust and particulates to be sticky anymore, and the coating needs to be replaced.


*Spoiler: Kuo-toa Priest*
Show

1x Shock Scepter
*Spoiler: Shock Scepter*
Show

A coral mace which deals 1d6 bludgeoning damage. In the hands of a kuo-toa it takes on qualities made real by their own belief, dealing 2d6 lightning damage.

----------


## Spore

[QUOTE=Spore;25447460]
*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool moves in between the flappy fish and the group. Stool can think with fish. He turns to the fish that promptly turns to Undercommon. You're not fish. You're more than fish. 






*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 20/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae coughs and coughs, removing the spores with a towel and an eventual dip into the pool herself. He breathes a few seconds before realizing the poison running its course and her back surprisingly not covered in Manta ray stings. I guess you are an okay demon fish priest. she finally says.

We try to exit the Underdark. Get out of your business really. Someone is summoning loads of demons, and by the looks of it, you are caught in somewhat of infighting. Doesn't surprise me, but can you give insight in how many bloody demon lords there are active currently, and whom do you serve? And yesyes, we fought demons, we murdered demoniacs, but if we can help it we just want out of here.

*Spoiler*
Show

Persuasion (1d20+6)[*25*]

----------


## RandomWombat

The manta's tail lashes in the water behind it. "Feheheh. As thanks, I will spare the name of my Lord. To hear it spoke, you would touch pain." The amusement in the demoniac sea creature's voice dribbles away and it answers gravely, "The Demon Lords did not ask to be here. They are confused, angry, opportunity. Different demons, different feeling. They do not know more, than you do."

Coiling its tail like a serpent, the manta points the barbed stinger at the end north, in the direction the vrock fled. "I need help. To return to water. If you carry me, I know where the vrock nests and will tell. The demon hoards treasures, value to land walkers. And it still will be weak from wounds."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 20/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

I'm game for some loot, my friend! By the way, you got some incense and a burner for a summoning ritual for later, flappy priest? Nilvae says in a true adventuring way. She senses some doubt. Come on, the demon fled instantly and we dealt with its ally easily! Gold and riches are waiting and helping us exit this hell....abysshole. Nilvae giggles.

Hehe, Abysshole.

*Spoiler*
Show

Guess who found a curse that goes around the forum filters and is appropriate?

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:28/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

"I'm down for killing another demon for profit." Borthan puts his weapons away and stretches, his back giving an audible pop. "If we all focus it we should be able to get in, get it dead, and get loot with no issue."

----------


## RandomWombat

Swaying passively in the water, the ixitx stares out at Nilvae. "I have no use of a burner," the creature says, somewhat flabbergasted by the request.

"Dere is no reason nod da help dis one, reward or no," Shuushar tries to urge the group in his nasally voice. He goes over to his kinsman and helps him back up to his feet from his groveling position. "Come, friend. Friends need a boat. You can helbp dem be trusded, yes?"

The other kuo-toa nods and slings his harpoon gun onto his back. "Mhmm! We will tank dem widda feasd! Egh, feasd already habbening. Budbble still be fun. Come, come!" he waves a webbed hand at the group.

*Spoiler: Nilvae Insight*
Show

The ixitx lacks any limbs to climb from the fountain to water on its own very effectively. It truly requires their aid if it hopes to survive. It would not be out of character for demons and demon-worshipers to reward help with betrayal, but the ixitx has more reason to be angry with the surviving vrock than with the party. Screwing its bully over by sending adventurers to loot its nest is as much to the ixitx's advantage as it is a reward to said adventurers.

It does not seem to be lying or trying to trick them with its offer.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

In truth, she would much rather not bother hunting down a rogue vrock for nebulous 'treasure' that an unrelated demon promises they have, apparently with keen knowledge of its tormentors. It sounds to her like misdirection and lies, but the others seemed more interested, and though Faedryl enjoys being the voice of impeccable reason, knowledge and guidance that she is, being so close to (relative) safety was probably not the time for her to start making waves. "Very well, but we should be prepared to retreat if there's more than one in this 'nest'. I don't fancy dying to demonclaws so close to rest and recovery."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:28/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan smiles and slaps Faedryl on the shoulder. Don't worry. As soon as this looks like more than we can deal with, we're out. But I'm glad we get a chance to finish the fight." Borthan lined himself up with the ray monster, trying to figure out the easiest way to haul it. "Two can do this job a whole lot easier than one. And as soon as trouble shows up we drop this thing like a bad habit. How about it Biggun? Lend me a hand?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil moved to the other side of the demonic creature. "Yes, yes, fine fine. But I'm still wary. I'm exhausted, both physically and intellectually, and my connection to the Weave is flagging. I am more ready for whatever the fine people of the nearest settlement, fish or no, can provide for a bed than another battle. But I too wish to eliminate this roving menace."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 20/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae crosses her arms and pouts, then immediately realizes the creature probably doesn't even knows humanoid gestures. Well, how DO you invoke spirits in your religion then? I just need something to bridge a gap into the Feywilds for a bit of help.

And yesyes, this is me asking the demon summoner for help to summon more, and you're probably hesitant on that matter. But if I can get an expend...a scout for us, we are safer that way. Nilvae liked all of her summons, but she was not sure about Eyegore yet. It was a despicable little thing but it couldn't do harm without her command, and somehow in a twisted way she enjoyed it picking at eyes.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

"Dark magic can be useful", Faedryl interjects, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "But I would probably steer away from any deals with literal demons. Whatever they can offer you, it won't be worth it."

----------


## RandomWombat

Borthan and Derendil lift the ixitx out of the water, the slippery skin of the demonfish proving hard to keep hold of. But they are able to get it up on their shoulders in a steady position. The creature is stiff and its tail lashes around in indignity, but to its credit does not sting them for their troubles.

"Demons of the depths called with names and blood," the creature rasps at Nilvae, its voice quickly becoming dry outside of the water. Coughing and clearing its throat, it wriggles into a different position. "If you want fey try weeds. They are the same thing."


It is not much further down the tunnel to their north that it opens up, and doesn't stop. They step out onto a paved stone path between a long, wide beach of dark ash-like sand on their left, and a few clusters of large mushrooms growing to their right. Past the shroomy woods the wall of the cave stretches up and up, a few holes spilling out streams of water that converge into one and flow down into the Darklake. A simple wooden bridge crosses over the stream. The path is lined with more red, fire beetle torches that mark the way.

Beyond the bridge are shoddy-looking wooden walls lined with spikes of both wood and bone. Above them rise tall, narrow homes and buildings reminiscent of termite mounds, with a piecemeal of rope and wooden ladders serving as a means to climb up to the higher levels. The kuo-toa town does not look like a very impressive beacon of civilization, but it would have to do.

To their left the beach stretches down to meet the dark waters, lapping at the sand. Shuushar turns and begins walking down the beach, towards a ramshackle hut near the water. There is a small dock lit by a single torch, and a fishing boat moored next to it. Another kuo-toa sits cross-legged on the dock, looking out at the lake.

"Mb, my masder lives here," he says simply, by way of explanation.

"You some kinda slave?" Topsy asks, then adds in Borthan's direction, "No offense to slaves present. Just need to know if we're gutting anyone else today before we get some shut-eye."

"N- no! No gutting," quickly shaking his head, Shuushar clarifies, "Masder, as in teacher. Showed me a way blubber dan madness."

*"Flappy fish goes this way anyhow. Then we can kill bird,"* following behind him, Ront pounds his fist into his palm.

Their other kuo-toan guide, the harpooner, carries on towards the town.

*Spoiler: Insight DC 15*
Show

The harpooner flashes a look of disdain at the beach shack before he moves on. It's usually hard to read their facial expressions, but the bared teeth and snarled lip suggest that whoever lives there is not well liked. At least by this particular fishman.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

The drow's eyes follow the harpooner's gaze, and after another glance to confirm the somewhat difficult to discern expression, she deduces the situation somewhat adequately. Though the internal politicking and social movements of Kua-Toa are about as low on her list of priorities as they could possibly be, if associating with this 'Master' of Shuushars put them in poor standing with the others and hindered their ability to continue on, it was something they needed to verify first. "The other one," she addresses Shuushar directly, while gesturing languidly at the retreating harpooner whose life they had saved, "does not care for your Master it seems. Why is that?" Her tone isn't needling, nor forceful, but the blunt question would serve more adequately than any tone she might care to express.

----------


## RandomWombat

Pausing when Faedryl grabs his attention, Shuushar looks back at the departing harpooner. He breathes out a sigh and explains, "My peoble are possessed ob a terribble faith. Dey cling to blubdever de priesds say. Id is a theo-cracy, as you'd say. But dey make up deir own gods, usually. And dey become real."

Mouth pursed in a thoughtful frown, Topsy catches on, "Religious leaders don't take kindly to anyone teaching other belief systems. Anyone around here who knows how 'it' works would make sure to keep an iron grip on the peoples' beliefs." Turning her head to eye Faedryl in the corner of her vision, she adds, "Some of us can probably relate."

Shuushar nods his head, rubbing one webbed hand against the other, which is steadying his pike. "Relidgions come and go. A new high priesd tages over. De old one submits or dies, sometimes coming to beblieve in de new god really and drue. The Mastder teaches a differend way. Tries do undahstand our sdrange powers and use dem do bring us inner peace from de madness we are affligted width."

*Spoiler: Nilvae*
Show

_"Speaking of which,"_ a playful voice rings in the woman's ear, dancing from one shoulder to the other, unseen and unheard by the rest. _"I've got a mission for you Nil. Just some silliness, a little bit of a prank."_ Her ear echoes with childlike laughter tinged with something not quite _right_. _"You'll love it I'm sure. I'm going to have you do a good deed for once!"_ Somehow the words 'good deed' out of a certain pixie prince are more worrying than anything else he could have said. _"Find somewhere nice and quiet. I've got a special surprise for you, and then we can discuss... plans."_

The fey whispers go quiet soon after.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 20/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

And demons benefit from the chaos and bloodshed.  Nilvae finally says in an unusual levelheadedness. If the stories of drow society are real, Lolth does similar things to the drow, only manipulating her priestesses against each other to stay in power. And my own accomplices in the Fey Realm are similar, but less hung up on the results. They just enjoy the ensuing chaos.

Still, spawning deities into existence is no small feat. Even the smallest fey need a whole community to attract and summon them, and even then it is not entirely clear if they are born from emotions, or sent by some whimsical prankster.

Nilvae shrugs and continues. I get the idea of quick power for a small price, I really do. she says as she makes a small stone glow. But somewhere down the line even the least selfish of drow, kuo-toa or demonic sea beast should have realized they were played for a fool. But I suppose we are not so different. My master could take away everything from me on a whim, too; leaving me a defenseless girl that can sing a bit and hold a dagger the right way. She looks at Faedryl. I suppose young lady Melad did the right thing by trusting in her own skills rather than the predestined way for her. Which brings up the question: Do you actually refer yourself by Melad anymore? Do you want to go back eventually and claim your birthright? Because your sisters and your mother will probably not give you your house, if you don't kill all of them. Do you truly want to carry their name then?

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Faedryl gives what's intended to be a nonchalant shrug, though it belies that she's not quite as apathetic as she'd like to appear. One doesn't wash away over a century of familial connections so easily. "And why wouldn't I? Change my name, change my face, they're still my family. And if keeping my name makes things more difficult for them, then that is so much the better." At times she'd held onto childish delusions of 'redeeming' her family name if she succeeded, but she knows better than that. History will be written by the victor, nothing more or less, and if she did succeed she doubts that she'd dedicate many pages to the family that refused to accept and support her.

"As long as the religious schisms here don't cause us trouble, we shouldn't pry into them. I would rather avoid choosing any sides that might jeopardise a ship." She leaves any commentary on Lolth. Now did not feel like the time to pontificate on all of the Spider Queen's history and the drow's own problems. She'd learned well that there was a time and place for preaching her views, and this certainly didn't seem like a worthy audience. "The madness though - how long has it been affecting the town?"

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:28/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan, struggling on alongside Derendil and the demon fish, looks at the exchanges of looks and innuendo with a bit of wry sarcasm, but his words fall silent on his lips as this talk of gods and madness comes to the forefront. Borthan didn't know what it took to make a god and he certainly didn't want to find out, since he had vague ideas of ritualistic sacrifice. When the conversation turned to Faedryl's name, Borthan did his best to shrug while also carrying a demon fish. "Melad, melange, melonhead. Name's don't matter. She's Faedryl, she carries her own weight and helps with the group's thinking. If she woke up tomorrow and told me she wanted to be Borthan Zuek I might take issue, but short of that Faedryl's right. Changing her name doesn't change who she is, so what's the point?" Borthan looked to the beach and the water, then spoke to burden he was carrying. "Will that water do? Carrying you has been fun, but parting is sweet sorrow, or somethin' stupid like that."

----------


## RandomWombat

"I unberstand," the kuo-toan healer bows his head. "If we must part, den I wibsh you safe dravels, and I amb sure your new friend can ged you inside," he speaks softly. Looking at the walls of the town he sighs. "Dis faith-madness has been width my peoble since as long as remembered. Like so many dhings wrong in de 'dark, you can drace it blback to de mind-flayers."

With another bow of his head towards the rest of the group, Shuushar carries on towards the beach hut.

*Spoiler: Insight DC 12*
Show

Shuushar is quick to part ways, without any real holdups, and there is some relief in his sigh. The frequent bloody business and executions of prisoners seems to have worn on him. It doesn't seem he's angry or resentful, just happy to go his own way at last.


Hanging loosely in his carriers' arms, the ixitx replies tiredly in a dry voice, "It would be appreciated."

Assuming the demonfish is delivered to the waters of the Darklake as promised, he swims down and for a moment a question hangs as to whether he has simply left. Then the manta emerges again, chewing some deep seaweed. Gulping down the snack, he relays in a newly wetted voice, "You will find surviving vrock there," with his tail, the ixitx points south, and up.

*Spoiler: Perception DC 14, Adv if Superior Darkvision*
Show

Up high on the cavern wall, on a curving corner above where the beach meets the water, a large alcove can be seen. A cave entrance leading somewhere, much like the many others that dot the walls, but this one has trickled empty of water over the years. It is about 80 feet up. The sand and water at least offer a relatively good survival chance if one were to fall climbing up to it.


While most of the group is looking up at the vrock lair, the ixitx turns and prepares to dive again, perhaps anticipating being double crossed himself if his welcome is overstayed.

Those who venture to the beach also get a better view of Shuushar's master as the two reunite, Shuushar taking a seat next to the larger, older looking kuo-toa. The other fishman is wearing a familiar purple robe bearing the symbol of an eye, marking him as part of the same obscure order as the troglodyte they'd met in duergar territory.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 25/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

She's not surprised Shuushar has chosen to leave them here, it only makes sense for that to happen, but his healing had been useful and would have continued to be so. Still, it was a selfish wish to expect him to continue on their path from this point. She was hardly one for long goodbyes, so instead turns her focus towards the Vrock's supposed hideout, though her eyes can't pick out what the demonfish is referring to as her eyes glaze over the walls, the pockmarks all seeming to blend together.





*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 25/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

*"I see it."* Sarith remarks, noting Faedryl's wandering gaze and her inability to spot something so obvious. Clearly she had spent too much time with her nose in books and not on watchduty as he had. He points the opening out to the rest of the group, just in case they too lacked his superior abilities. *"80 feet or so up the wall, sand and water to cushion a fall should any of you,"* he excludes himself, *"fall."*

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 20/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae shakes her head. Names were important. Truenames might be immutable, but perceived names? I am sure you would choose otherwise if your name was Princess Butterball the Opulent. Names carry expectations. I am not even delving into a being's real name, as used and abused by the Fey and others. Names change emotions, which change reactions. Reactions write history and alter the future. She finalizes and kind of wells up as Shuushar leaves without as much as a small speech.

She grabs his arm as the fish man is about to leave. I am happy for you to be home, but can you maybe heal our wounds before you depart? You are home now, but our journey continues. she says in an empathic way and hugs the probably cold and slimy fish guy. Otherwise I say from the depth of my heart.

Thank you. She steps away and does  small curtsy, like the country belle she is.

*Spoiler*
Show

Seeing as he becomes an NPC, I try a 17 to persuade him to heal us one last time.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:28/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan has trouble seeing the vrock's hideaway at first, but once Sarith points it out he smiles. "Ready for a long climb up a sheer rock face? I know I am." He starts in the direction of the hidey hole, ready to make his way up.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil swallows as he looks up at the rock face, and his stomach seems to tighten. He was not looking forward to this.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 20/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Don't you think that's too dangerous? If I can take a break we can get cover of darkness from Eyegore. And I can teleport up with a rope in hand.

----------


## RandomWombat

Shuushar's scales are indeed cold, and a little clammy. He pats Nilvae's back, showing no harbored ill will despite his differences with the group. "Obf course. My spells are expended for now, bud..." he pauses and thinks, then pats Nilvae on the shoulder and pulls out of the hug. "I blill redurn in a momend."

Speaking briefly with his Master, Shuushar steps inside of the small hut and emerges with a kit of bandages and sutures. "Anyone in need, I willb dreat your wounds beblore you go."

*Spoiler: Healing*
Show

Shuushar obtains a Healer's Kit from his Master.
Anyone who wishes to take him up on the offer can roll *1d6+4+(your maximum number of HD)* for healing.

Ront receives *11*, and Jimjar receives *12*.


Still feeling alright and eager for a cut of any loot they find, Topsy falls into step beside Borthan. "Stay down here brother, this won't take long," she calls back to Turvy. All he has to do is take a look up at the sheer rock face to nod meekly in agreement. No one else seems to be interested in a climb - Ront even looks a little pale at the idea of climbing the cliffs. Apparently in all his eagerness he never realized birds probably nest up high.

*Spoiler: Climbing*
Show

Climbing the rock face will be 2 DC 13 Athletics checks, you can use Strength or Dexterity for it. Disadvantage for anyone without climbing gear. Advantage for anyone with high quality climbing gear.
(I believe you have 1 basic set and 4 high quality sets to distribute)

Failing the first will cost 1d6 fall damage, DC 10 Acrobatics to halve.
Failing the second will cost 3d6 fall damage, DC 14 Acrobatics to halve.

Naturally, you can still decide to wait and use Nilvae's idea if you prefer, bearing in mind the Vrock will get a Short Rest as well if you do.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

"There is wisdom in resting first." She measures her words carefully, trying to be 'supportive' and 'team player' as much as possible, even as she was going to advise the opposite. "but the demon fled from us presumably because it was injured from its previous fight against the kua-toa. If we give it time to rest, it will be that much harder to kill; I think it better we try to take it unawares while it is still recovering. Sarith, I'm sure you're eager to show your skills - perhaps you would care to take a rope up for the group?" She wasn't exactly an expert of physicality herself, and Sarith was likely capable of holding off the demon's attacks while the rest of them climbed.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

The drow exhales a long sigh through his nose. *"Fine."* He takes up a pair of the climbing gear and slings a rope over his shoulder to begin the climb, but barely twenty feet up the rocks splinter from his climbing pick and come out from under him, sending him tumbling into the wet sand with a mix of _splash_ and _smush_. Face to the 'sky' Sarith rests on his back for a moment. He is reminded, briefly, of his terrible attempts at prison work back at the outpost, and how it had sent him into the slime-infested water. This was less hazardous to his health, though potentially more shameful. The pain in his back was certainly going to do him no favours on further attempts. After a few moment, he finally stands up, his movements clearly slower than before.

"Hmm, we might be more tired than I thought." Faedryl adds, her tone flat, holding neither amusement not criticism. "Perhaps we should rest after all, and then attempt this teleport trick of Nilvae's."



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Sarith rolled a 1+2 on the first roll.
Then a 2 on the second roll to halve damage.
Then a 6 on the damage.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:28/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan, still unpacking the climbing gear for everyone, watched Sarith go up the cliff, then smiled when he came back down at a much faster rate. He moved to help the Drow up. "You're moving too fast. Climbing something like this isn't a race, it's a marathon. Slow, steady, hand over hand, and you might have more luck. Don't worry, though. You tried, so you'll be spared the worst of my sarcasm towards any chickens."

Borthan returned to unpacking the climbing gear with some expertise. "Sorry, Faedryl, sorry Nilvae, but we have an advantage right now and we need to push it. I know with time we could teleport or shadow jump or hell maybe even fly up there, but if we wait two things happen. One, that demon gets a breather, and we have had a lot of luck killing wounded and beleaguered demons so I don't want to ruin the streak by all of us dying against one that's licked it's wounds. Two, the damn bird could spot us and fly away, in which case we get no treasure and we release ANOTHER demonic being into the Dark, and after hauling fish lips for a few miles I already got one of those on my conscience. So I'm pushing on now... this operation needs to be done quick, and that means muscle, not magic." He had unpacked all the climbing gear and got it ready, and he took the most worn and beat up set for himself. 

"Anyone who wants to come help me can follow my line. This isn't my first climbing expedition, and most of the time you don't have a soft bed of wet sand to cushion your butt if you fall. I can't promise we'll all make it up there without bumps and bruises, but I can guarantee you that this is our best shot at taking this monster down!" Bort suddenly looked self conscious when he realized he was giving a speech, and he shut up quickly. "Up time, I suppose..." He removed a hammer from his own pack and began hammering in pitons to secure the rope for any who would follow him. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't be going alone, but it'd make a hell of a story for his grandkids. Or for his allies in remembrance of him. 




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil, taking a set of the higher quality climbing gear, attaches a harness to himself and secures his line to the one trailing down behind Borthan. "Well, if he's that confident we can handle it, someone should follow him up. I won't fault any of you who don't... but he certainly will, the dreadful, brutish man..." Derendil coughed and began to haul himself up behind Borthan. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Borthan rolls a 19 and a 23, Derendil manages a 16 and a 22 with advantage.

----------


## RandomWombat

Though Sarith's first foray into the climb does not quite match his bravado, Borthan steps up to take the lead. The experienced hunter of men and beasts pathfinds a route up the uneven stone. Grabbing one of the climbing kits, Derendil follows suit.

Grabbing one for herself, Topsy attempts the climb, slipping at first and scraping her knee before she ever fully gets off the ground. But after getting better footing she manages to follow the two athletes up the ascent, despite her smaller stature making it hard to match the reach needed for Borthan's route.

The tunnel leads into a somewhat damp cavern, with a few dripping stalagmites surrounding a hole up into the ceiling. Borthan is able to scout around the corner with his gloomstalking, spying their quarry. In the corner, the surviving vrock lords over a small pile of looted coins and valuables. The demonfish was no liar, but it is not exactly a dragon's hoard. There are a few shattered potion vials on the ground, and the creature looks better than when they last saw it. But the demon's wounds are still many, and it leans against the stone panting.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 21/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Ignoring Faedryl's comment Sarith continues on, doing two more failed climbs before he finally follows behind Borthan - now thoroughly soaked with water and covered with sand, and ready to snap the necks of every single blighted demon this side of the abyss. Frustration and rage are essentially all that fuels him now.

Faedryl watches, she doesn't follow. She wasn't particularly eager to try breaking her neck.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Sarith failed twice more, taking 5 more damage, then makes it up on the fourth attempt.

He Second Winds back up to 21, because he also rolled a 3 on 1d10+1. Embarrassing, what is even the point of him.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 21/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Tired. Wet. Angry. Utterly uncaring for stealth. The sodden drow fighter has been in better moods, and rarely in worse. At least now that he was at the top he didn't have to bother with seeing Faedryl's face. He sees the Vrock, he loads his crossbow, and with no particular care for anything except violence looses a poisoned bolt against it.



*Spoiler: Turn*
Show


Stealth: 8
Initiative: 16
*Bonus Action:* Steady Aim.
*Action:* Attack with heavy xbox, drow poisoned bolt. (1d20+8)[*12*](1d20+8)[*10*] *Damage:* (1d10+4)[*8*]+(2d6)[*5*]
CONsave or get knocked out, assuming not immune to poison. Two just in case advantage: (2d20)[*20*][*11*](31)

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:28/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan nods to Sarith invisibly when he makes it up the cliff. As the Drow levels his crossbow at the demon, Borthan flicked Patchmaker's blade out, eliciting a tiny spark of magical light. He looked from the small blade to the long sword at his waist, appreciating the amusing juxtaposition, before charging headlong at the demon, ready to kill.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Three attacks, two with Patchmaker and one with a sword. First attack- (1d20+6)[*19*] or (1d20+6)[*25*] to hit due to advantage. (1d3+4)[*6*] damage. Bonus action longsword- (1d20+6)[*11*] or (1d20+6)[*26*] to hit, (1d8+4)[*7*] damage. Bonus attack from being a shady ranger- (1d20+6)[*23*] to hit or (1d20+6)[*16*] because of advantage, (1d3+4)[*5*] and (1d8)[*6*] damage. Will roll any crits in the Discord.



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil launched himself into combat as Sarith's bolt fired, ready to take to the demon with claw and blade.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Bonus action true strike. Attack- (1d20+5)[*12*] or (1d20+5)[*6*] to hit, (1d8+3)[*7*] damage.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae thanks the Kuo-Toa pacifist one last time and departs. He was a silent type but reliable and so nice. The road ahead would become more dangerous without him. At the lair, Nilvae looks up and is very much not enthusiastic to climb, even with help. Even less so, when considering her way up was also her only way out. She glances at Mr Spide to carry her up.

You up for a ride, ol' buddy ol' pal?



*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 36/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool looked dodgy before, but now the small myconid covered in a lavatory bucket, holding a small stick and a pot lid is also covered in bandages, which weirdly make him more proud to help with this. Having expended his ability to turn into an animal for now, he looks around for helpful wildlife to make the work easier.

*Spoiler*
Show

Looking for any animals to help the cause via Animal Frienship.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Vrock Lair*

The four of them rush in, catching the vrock off guard. Sarith's bolt flies past it, the creature reacting just in time to evade. But Borthan's flurry of unseen attacks is more than it can keep up with when already fending off Derendil's. The creature shrieks and snaps its beak at Derendil, swiping with a taloned hand and only catching him with a shallow scratch.

Drawing her slingshot, Topsy walks her shot and strikes the demon bird in the head with one of its magically-infused stones, sending it to the ground. From there, it is simple work for Borthan and the quaggoth prince to end its life.

Sticking her weapon back in her belt, Topsy strolls over to take a look at their earnings, as the demon corpse bubbles and two more of the eerie demon coins float to the surface of its remains. "Shall we see what our winnings are?"

*Spoiler: Loot*
Show

-2 Soul Tokens
-268 gp worth of coins and gemstones
-A scimitar with strange clockwork mechanisms built into it
-A tiny, wind-up toy knight that marches on its own when wound up


As they examine the findings, Nilvae arrives at the mouth of the cave, carried up by Mr. Spide, who is now adorned with a few bandages. The spider shakes its back in annoyance to tell Nilvae to get off now that they're at the top; he always did chafe a little at being ridden.

*At the Beach*

Looking around for wildlife, Stool finds several crabs along the beach, which blend into the sand and look a bit like grey rocks until he gets too close and they start to scuttle away. Long eels are swimming in the water, with sharp-looking teeth, probably meaning it's not a great place to take a swim. On land there are no nests or dens of animals on the ground on account of being so near a settlement, but the myconid can see in some of the other raised tunnels that dot the wall signs of occupation: giant spider webs.

However, it seems their own spider has taken Nilvae up the cliff, in spite of some irritated chittering.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:28/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan turned to see Nilvae cresting the cave mouth on Mr. Spide, giving her a large grin. "'Ey, Nilv! So when it comes to demon what's your preference? White meat or dark?" He gestures with his ichor stained jackknife at the melting Vrock corpse, obviously proud that his decision had panned out. He slapped Derendil and Topsy on the back, gave a nod and a wink to Sarith, and turned to face the outside of the cave. He carefully walked all the way to the edge so the others could see him and lifted his hands to amplify his shout. "Demons dead, no thanks to wimpy scaredy Ront who's afraid of climbing rope. Be down soon!"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil sighed when Borthan began taunting the others and turned to Topsy, Sarith, and Nilvae. "We're getting quite the large pile of filthy lucre in our journeys. If we split ways, it may become prudent to split it amongst us. Oh! Shushar! We should make sure he takes a share! He certainly earned it, keeping us all alive like he has. Will anyone else assist me in dividing it all up and bringing a share to him?"

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Faedryl is quietly satisfied at her decision to not participate. It would have been a pain to climb all that way only for it to be over so quickly. She'd been available for potential ranged support in the event that the vrock had attempted to flee. That was enough, she rather selfishly decided.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

It wasn't enough for him. Crossbow in hand, he racks another bolt, draws it back, and fires it - point blank - into the creature's head. And then another. And another. Ichor and gore splatter across his legs as he drives home the point until all his pent up fury is expended, and the monster's skull is little more than a pile of splintered crossbow bolts, shards of bone and spaghetti'd brains. *"Making sure it's dead."* He gives by way of explanation, but the momentary anger on his face as he had destroyed the demon's head tells the onlookers this was not the case. He doesn't care for the lootsharing, but the rush of anger leaving him has left him drained and so in response to Derendil he simply says *"Should probably wait until we've got shelter. Not like he's going anywhere."*

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae pouts. It is not nice to make a woman rise to the occasion, only to finish without her. she says playfully. I prefer my demons dead and extremely far away from me, thank you.

But I am glad to have you two ambush experts on OUR side.

----------


## RandomWombat

Below, Ront growls and turns away in either annoyance or shame, walking down the beach. While Borthan is heckling the orc, Topsy pokes through the pile. She picks up the wind-up toy and looks over it with momentary curiosity before putting it back on the stone floor and beginning to fill a bag with some of the scattered, loose gold coins.

"Maybe he doesn't believe in capitalism," the gnomess quips on the subject of Shuushar's share of the loot. It's clear in the sound of her voice she doesn't care much either way, at least not enough to complain about giving away some money. "Either way, we got our trip down now. So gather what you can carry and let's get out of this stinking demon hole."

On her way to begin her descent, Topsy doesn't secure her grapple quite right and after she slips it fails to catch her on the descent. With a yelp she falls and lands in the sand with a puff of it going up into the air. "Hey!" Turvy runs over to check on her, dragging her out of the way before someone falls down on top of her. "Are you alright?"

"Ugh, breathe," she pats her chest and wheezes, winded from the impact and still trying to catch her breath. The aforementioned kuo-toa comes over to check on her, looking her over. He guides her through some breathing exercises and offers a chewing herb to numb the pain of the bruises she would soon have across her back. As the others descent she admits with a grumble, "Alright. Guess he deserves a share."

"Hm?" Shuushar hums, looking up at the rest of the group.

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Perhaps the irritation has left Sarith after his extremely brutal tenderising of the vrock's skull, but he finds the climb down much simpler, and perhaps surprising even himself it's he who answers Shuushar's query. *"They believe you should be given a share of the spoils."* He excludes himself, but not because he's against it - he's just apathetic either way. Coincounting wasn't exactly his strong suit. 

Neither was climbing, apparently. 




*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

The drow arcanist is less enthused at the prospect of handing away treasure that they might require for their continued expedition. If he was leaving the group, surely he was leaving his claim to any reward in the same manner, she reasoned. She doesn't voice such thoughts though. It would affect the cohesion, and that would hurt worse than any lost coin.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan laughed at Ront from on high, and when he does he accidentally shifts his weight wrong and tumbles down the cliffside to land in a puff of sand. He groans in pain before releasing a weak laugh. "I take it all back, Ront. That hurt like hell... I think I broke my butt... Ront... help me! I can't feel my butt, Ront!"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil lands gently on the sand, rapelling down from the cliff seemingly with ease. When he lands and picks up on the conversation, he smiles at Shushar. "Your efforts to keep us all alive are deeply appreciated, and some of us thought that you deserve a share of the loot we've accumulated as payment before we part ways. What do you think, friend?"

----------


## RandomWombat

The orc's booming laugh can be heard from down the beach when he turns to see Borthan having wiped out. Ront has stopped walking, standing a safe distance from the eel-infested water and looking back at the others while he waits for them to go. With a hand in one pocket, Jimjar strolls over and offers the other hand to Borthan. *"Pretty lucky it was your butt and not your head. It's harder to joke out the other end if that one's stuck in the sand,"* he jests back.

Folding his arms in front of him, Shuushar bows his head to Derendil. "Ah, I bwill not argue if you thingk so. But mighd I asgk for a favor instead?" the kuo-toa asks, standing up straighter again. "My Masder and I are not liked in Sloobludop righd now. If you would, could you use my share do buy some supplies and drop them off for us?"

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

She had to appreciate the pragmatism of the request, if nothing else, and whatever supplies Shuushar asked for would probably total less than their 'fair share' anyway, if her assessment of their personality was anything to go by over the last few days. "That shouldn't be a problem, we'll certainly be picking up our own supplies so we can slay two bats with a single bolt. Tell us what you need, one of us will see it delivered." Her eyes flick to Sarith for a moment and back again in a single heartbeat. She was sure he wouldn't complain (out loud) about doing the heavy lifting - not like Ront might, at least.

----------


## RandomWombat

"Preserved food, tinder and flind for making a cooking fire, a supply of drinking water would helbp," the kuo-toa lists off the basic essentials on his webbed fingers before moving on to the last on the list. "Dere's a species of jellyfish dat produces tastdy jam I enjoy. If you can find one, I would like to keep one."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Faedryl nods quietly, mentally jotting down the list to add to their own supply situation. "If there's nothing else," she directs at Shuushar and the group as a whole, "shall we finally get some rest?"

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

"Will do, fish. We owe you some good jam, at the very least." Borthan looked to Faedryl and stretched. "'Round about time for some shut eye, I suppose."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae is confused. You are surrounded by water! Don't say the lake water is not drinkable.  Nilvae was somewhat disappointed but lights up as the fishy healer mentions jam. Nice. Our maids made jam too. From raspberries, lingonberries and cherries. I miss those... To underline her disappointment, a stylized elven frowning face appeared above her head. She turns her head up in amazement. 

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting minor illusion for emoji speak!




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 36/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Sleep good. Food better! the myconid says as he enchants ten small shrooms in his hands. Is not much, but food! his song reverberates in your heads.

*Spoiler*
Show

Using my last spell slot to cast Goodberry.

----------


## RandomWombat

With an embarrassed chuckle, Shuushar shakes his head at Nilvae. "You can drink de wadder, bud always rememba to boil id firsdt. You don' wand any waderborne diseases."

Parting ways with their semi-aquatic companion, the group makes their way over to the Sloobludop gates. Stretching from the cave wall in the distance to their right, all the way into the water and out a ways onto the darklake, is a rough wooden palisade decorated with animal and humanoid bones and skulls. A shrunken mindflayer head is lashed to one of the posts on either side of the ten foot gate. The two halves of the gate are hanging open right now, leading inside, where the harpooner is standing not too far inside waving at them.

To the left of the gate a kuo-toa is standing guard, wearing loose baggy clothes and carrying a crude single-edged longsword and a sticky slime-coated shield. Two more harpooners have a bit of distance from the gate. And nearby looms a large amphibious creature resembling a lure-less angler fish if it could walk on two legs like a dinosaur and was the size of a full grown bull. Its black, depthless eyes are coated in a film that makes it look like the creature has cataracts. One of the harpooners has a webbed hand on its side, presumably a signal to the animal not to attack.

"Come. Come width Goobool," their rescuee urges, leading them further into the settlement, between haphazardly constructed buildings of wood, hardened clay and dirt that rise up on either side of a set of messy walkways. Lines of wooden boards are set over the muddy ground to make getting around a modicum more pleasant. The buildings are tall and tapering like termite mounds, with rope ladders, bridges and wooden walkways between their upper levels. The layout of buildings and passages between them shows no rhyme or reason, simply built where they are and added onto whenever needed or desired.

The party is led into a bustling market, where it appears some kind of celebratory festival is going on in town. Fishfolk chatter and trade in cramped streets and mucky alleys, beneath colorful tarps. Their chatter is as innumerable as it is incomprehensible, a blend of nasally burbling undercommon with their own pidgin tongue and occasionally a spattering of terms originating in deep speech. One shop in particular stands out, for not only is its architecture entirely different from that of the kua-toa, but the fishmen pay it no mind, walking by as if it were not there at all.

This mysterious building is decorated in faded murals and chipped black and white porcelain tile, with an entry that is more glass window than door, the inside rendered redundantly opaque by multicolored pieces of note paper. Front windows are likewise rendered a mystery by hard, latticed curtains inside. A sign just above the door, purple flowery lettering gilded with gold, declares this place of business *Marv's Mystical Masterpieces*.

One of the buildings is labelled with a picture of a bed, indicating that it serves as an inn. It is here that their helpful guide leads them. "Goobool friend of inn-toa, gib free stay," he insists, pushing open a rickety saloon door leading into what feels more like a cramped motel reception room, certainly not featuring a tavern (though the smell of alcohol can be picked up on the wind from down a nearby alley, along with the unmistakable scents of foreign street foods). A portly fishman is sitting behind the desk with his head leaned back against his chair, with an empty brown clay plate in front of him picked clean of food. Goobool reaches across the desk and lightly slaps the other fish's cheek. A bubble is formed in the kuo-toa's mouth, growing and shrinking with each snoozing breath. "Jigboob. Jigboob!" he insists, until the bubble pops and the other kuo-toa jolts awake.

"Mmmnyeh ah, rhng?" the innkeeper grunts, then bends forward and fails to slap Goobool upside the head before the quicker Harpooner can back out of his reach. "Uzzid? Blb, trablers sdaying?" he grumbles.

"Ububu, buh, helbp Goobool. Save me, sdtop birds from breaking," he leans in and whispers, "Real goddess' sdadtue," conspiratorially, then pulls back. "Dey need sday! Come do feasd dmorrow maybe."

"How many? How many nighdt?" leaning to the side, Jigboob notes that the line of attendees trails outside, the room too cramped to fit the whole entourage.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Faedryl keeps her eyes and ears open as they proceed into the town proper. It's about what she expected: it stinks of fish. At the very least it seemed that there was not only fishmen here, if the odd building was any indication. They might be able to have a single conversation with a local that didn't involve spittle splattering over them. 

When the question of their duration comes up, she isn't quite sure how to answer. The less the better - for a whole host of reasons, of course. The smell, the sounds, and the general time pressure of their own route to the surface having a time limit attached - but equally haste made waste, and if they rushed they risked forgetting things, missing things, or simply not being in top form when they left town. "Perhaps two nights?" She addresses the party with the question, though speaks loud enough for the building's keeper.  "It would give us ample time to procure supplies and trade, and look into charting passage while resting up for the next leg." Though hopefully if a ship-bound transport was their next stage then there wouldn't be quite so much walking. Her blisters had blisters.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

"Two nights it is. That should give us time to figger ourselves out, divy up the loot, and make plans." Borthan wore a smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. Those bore a shadow of loneliness as the prospect of parting ways came up. He was so used to going it alone that he would miss each of them in their own way. Or at least miss their skills, he told himself as he shook his head, dreads falling back off his shoulders. _Stupid Zuek. Nothing ever lasts..._ He thought as he motioned for Faedryl to continue negotiations.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae was quite happy with the invitation and the generally very welcoming community. After her encounter with drow, duergar and demons, the entryway decorated with skulls and shrunken heads was positively heartwarming. Here lived people who knew the Underdark was dangerous but they held together to repel the dangers of the darkness.

Being practically carried through the settlement, Nilvae took her time to try and make friends with the gigantic amphibian rather than its handler. How are they treating you down there, big boy? Get enough food? Are you some kind of guardian? she blurbs at him in guttural croaks. 

With the innkeeper she laughs. We are certainly welcoming a hearty meal after long travels as long as we are not part of the menu. The elf tries to smile disarmingly. Faedryl was always very methodical and Bort sunken into his thoughts. So she decided to take up the negotiations. We need a boat, for 10, perhaps eleven people, across the underground lake. I expect the travel to be dangerous, so I would not feel it fair if we crossed without paying. This needs a bigger boat, and perhaps even a small crew who know how to properly use it. 

Unless we have a few sailors on our own.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Gates*

The massive amphibious fish looks at Nilvae and opens its mouth only slightly, making clicking and ooh-ing noises. Her fey magic translates them into words she can understand. "Good life. Easy living. Feed lots fish. Gulp things and spit up for bosses. Scare intruders. No worry little pink thing bosses say you no intruder, so me no gulp."

*The Inn*

"About ten of us, plus a pet," Topsy answers to the headcount, leaning against the doorway from outside.

Picking at his lip with a finger, Jigboob mumbles to himself. He leans down and pulls out three keys carved from bone, handing them to whomever chooses to accept. Lines are carved into the head of each key - two, three, and four respectively. Likely the floor/room numbers. "I gan giv dree rooms. Dree rooms for two nighd. Upf ladder on side of inn. Goobool youbl bill be paying deir stday."

"Uuh, oghey, nod righd now? Lige I hab time do ged de money?" the harpooner babbles, rubbing the backs of his hands. Jigboob bobs his head up and down, leaning back in his chair.

Hands folded over his belly, the innkeeper thinks about Nilvae's question. "Cabden Hugaboo, he hab big ship. _The Black Manta_," he takes his time and pronounces the name of the ship very carefully, compared to the rest of his clumsy babbling.  "Can fid you all, probly. He on nordmost dock."

*Spoiler: Passive Insight DC 12*
Show

Saying the name of a ship incorrectly may be a major social faux pas around here from the sounds of the care he takes with the name.


*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

DM's note: North is actually 'east' on the map.

Also: At the bottom of the roll20 map, added three little rooms for the inn floor levels if you'd like to divvy up who stays in which.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Safety and sanctuary had been acquired, at least for now. "That is most generous," she says, as sincerely as she can manage (which isn't very, admittedly). Helping the Kua-Toa had saved them a few coins though, and got them a name of a ship. With their rooms arranged, she takes the party aside to discuss further plans. "Not that I would ever consider myself incompetent, but we might want to send our best talkers to speak to the captain. Our full group going might give the wrong impression." And Ront may say something untoward. His brute force was appreciated, but there was a time and place for it. "And those of us who aren't in dire need of rest can see about selling our gains? Then we can reconvene to discuss costs before making any purchases of our own."

She had things she wished to buy, of course, but the ship passage could run them for a significant amount for the entire group. The downsize of 'safety in numbers'. "Oh, and the name of the ship seems important please don't get it wrong."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

I'm probably not the best to see to sellin all this stuff. I deal mostly in barter, and even then I've never been the best negotiator. Guess I'll take it easy and rest up. Something tells me we might see action before we leave town, but I'm always a pessimist." Borthan  stretched and elicited a loud _pop_ from his back. 




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

"I probably can deduce what things are worth, but I'm useless in negotiation. Perhaps Nilvae and I can bring brains and social graces to the bargaining table?" Derendil looked to the addled elf with a smile before turning to Faedryl and Borthan for their opinion. Borthan simply shrugged.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

"A fine suggestion, if Nilvae is willing of course." Faedryl agrees. It seemed logical enough to have someone with smart support the smooth-spoken, but Faedryl wagered her own attitude might hinder the matter - she hoped that her forcefulness would serve better on the battlefield that was shopping.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae smiles comfortably. Aye. I can sell blue dye to a poppy seed farmer. I can teach y'all too, it is not too difficult. You just start off the sale by presenting your wares in a manner that lets you control it, they can touch but not grab all. Nilvae looks at Borthan. Not that I expect ill intent from our friends here, but I would like a pair of sharp eyes that can invalidate any claims of inferior quality. Scratches, and the such. And I would not like to get robbed. I trust in Derendil, but two people are easily mugged.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Inn*

With plans being formed, Ront is already wandering off in the direction of grilled meat smell wafting down the street. Topsy has her own plans and shakes Turvy by the arm to get him to follow and informs the rest, "I'm going to ask around and see what this 'festival' is about. We'll regroup here later."

*"They must have a gambling den around here somewhere,"* their other gnomish companion muses. He rubs the bridge of his round nose with a finger, some sort of superstitious gesture from the looks of it.

"Dice games? I gan show you!" Goobool pops into the gnome's train of thought cheerily, waving and leading the way out. Jimjar grins and falls in behind their new fishy friend.

*The Black Manta*

With some mostly intelligible directions from the innkeeper, Nilvae and Derendil (with Mr. Spide on their heel) cross through town. There are many piers on Sloobludop, scattered anywhere they could fit along the shores and any canals that jut into the kuo-toa settlement. Most of them house little more than humble fishing boats, larger vessels being fewer.

The ship they were directed to is at the furthest dock to the north. The Black Manta is of course a longship lined with oars jutting from belowdecks, as wind travel is impossible in the Underdark without magic. Dark blue zurkhwood has been painted with black patterns that swirl upwards like waves, mimicking the dark waters below. A burly kuo-toa stands upon the dock before the ship. He's wearing loose clothes and a dwarven-styled black bicorne hat adorned with two golden pins. One of the fish captain's feet rests on a golden greataxe planted on the ground at his side. "Pig ub de slack!" he barks at several kuo-toa in metal collars who are loading boxes into the ship.

*The Market*

Just across from the market, Faedryl and Sarith find a shop called the Rusty Prawn. The sign over top of it features a Rust Monster with a bamboo swimming snorkel sticking out of its mouth. A stall is also set up out front, tended by a kuo-toa in baggy clothes with a pair of crooked catfish-like whiskers that hang from the sides of his head like a long mustache. On display are assorted, poorly organized knick-knacks and accessories. Behind him, some windows reveal a few pieces of armor and weapons on display inside, obviously used and probably looted off of something's corpse. This is a pawn shop, no doubt.

"Wewlcome, you look wahnderful today," the pawner greets Faedryl, naturally assuming Sarith is nothing more than her slave or personal servant and ignoring the male drow. "Combl do bluy jehwels and faaahn trinkets?"

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

She doubted she would ever truly become accustomed to kua-toa speech. Even the babble of demons seemed less offensive to her sensibilities at times. It wasn't their fault, she reasoned to herself; they couldn't 'help' it, but preferences (and lack thereof) were not so easily changed. She was still a nobleborn drow, however, one who had suffered through decades of etiquette lessons and training. She could maintain a civil facade when necessary, no matter how it made her skin crawl. "Perhaps, yes," is her cool response, though truly she does not intend to purchase much of anything, save the necessary supplies - and that which Shuushar requested. An agreement had been made, after all. "My...hunting party," she gestures offhand to Sarith, "has suffered some losses in the Underdark. Demons have been on the prowl you see," She paces to look at the armour inside the window display, though in truth her gaze is for show, rather than actual interest. "and we are in need of trade - the equipment of the dead and spoils of our hunt, in exchange for coin and supplies so that we might continue on."

She turns back to the seller, a slight smirk on her lips. "And perhaps a few trinkets too." She _was_ going through the effort of negotiating this, after all. She deserved something nice. "We haven't brought out full inventory with us here immediately; it was a bit much for just the two of us, but this list..." She makes a small gesture and conjures the image of a paper list, containing a documentation of the items they wished to sell. It was comprehensive. She leaves it floating in the air in front of the shopkeeper, giving him ample time to peruse it fully. "should detail everything, though some items will of course need a keen eye to appraise them. I trust for a store of this size that you can accommodate?" They were dancing the merchant's dance now, offering, baiting, tantalising. "These shoes, for instance." She removes the drow-made shoes they'd acquired earlier, those that seemed to have an uncomfortable connection to their former captor. "Though it would pain me to part with them, pretty as they are they won't help us survive our journey." In fact, she thinks to herself, they might just do the opposite. 




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Minor Illusion for the item list. 

Summary of what I think we're selling:
*Items with Prices:*
Total 'Buy' Price: 3568gp
Total 'Sell' Price: 1784gp

- 4x Acid Vial - 100gp 
- 12x Manacles - 24gp 
- 6x Toilet Paper Roll - 120gp 
- 2x Spider Silk Bedsheet - 100gp 
- 1x Cask of Drow Wine - 120gp
- 3x Splint Mail - 600gp
- 3x Chain Shirt - 150gp
- 6x Leather Armour - 60gp
- 1x Studded Leather - 45gp
- 13x Shortsword - 130gp
- 12x Dagger - 24gp
- 3x Lance - 30gp
- 18x Hand Crossbow - 1350gp
- 2x Light Crossbow - 50gp
- 1x Longsword - 15gp
- 1x Heavy Crossbow - 50gp
- 12x Longbow - 600gp

*Unappraised/Unpriced items:*
- Finely made Zurkhwood flute
- 6 Whetstones 
- 4x Synethic Venom (Injury, DC10 Con half, 3d6 poison)
- 3x Synethic Poison (Ingested, DC14 Con or 1 level of exhaustion, contained in darts to deliver as Injury)
- Smashed Jubilex Statue (to sell)
- 1x Mithril Warpick.
- 1x Ilvara's(?) shoes. 

The money/item list on google not yet updated, waiting to see if he'll buy everything (LUCKY) or not first :P

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Seeing slave labor was against Nilvae's sensibilities, but they needed the passage, and she had dealt with worse in the last few days. Summoning her most cheery self, she adressed the captain. Are you Captain Hugaboo of the fabled _Black Manta_? Nilvae takes a second to surpress her surface dweller accent on her Undercommon to really enunciate the ship's name. I will not want to waste your time, but do you have time for a sea passage in the next tenday? We seek to cross the lake safely. We are a big group of mixed travellers, so we will pay handsomely for safe travels, and to add to that, we are skilled adventurers who can defend the vessel if we were attacked. She pauses and aims a bit lower, she did not want her group sound threatening. Though of course you and your crew are more skilled if the fight actually takes place in the waters. Nilvae enchants a stone from her pocket with a light spell and throws it to the captain to catch. We can support you from the boat however. She looks right and hopes Derendil aids her argumentation.

*Spoiler*
Show

Praying to Silvanus, Puck and the Lusty Kuo-Toan Maid, Nilvae rolls Persuasion (1d20+6)[*12*]*Spoiler: advantage roll if aided*
Show

(1d20+6)[*26*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*Faedryl&Sarith: Shopping Trip*

Considering the sheer amount they are looking to unload, the catfish enlists an assistant to watch the trinket stand and invites the two drow inside, where he examines the illusory list and appraises their goods. The shoes, naturally, are in pristine condition due to their magic. "Mm, nowd bad cowndition. Dey awr magical?" he wonders, turning them over and searching for a maker's mark.

Going over the mundane equipment, he rolls one hand and brushes the other down his long whisker, straightening it out only to bounce back into shape like a coiled spring. "Nowmally we don' carry so much goowds ad a time, bud I think ah can lighten da load." He reaches out and trails a finger down the illusion, leaving a rippling, translucent trail behind. "I can give ya full pwice for de towlet paper and da manacles, hm goowd wine... but de acid, wown'd sell vewy well here."

Tapping in the air as if counting on an imaginary abacus, he opens with an offer, "Howa 'boud an even 1770 for dee pile of basic equiment? Liddle fee on top fow movin' so many items at once, awready included, you undahstand?"


Moving into the unappraised items, he goes over each of them in turn (apart from the shoes, which had piqued his curiosity earlier with their potentially magical nature). Picking up the flute, he turns it over and raises a scaled brow. "Work by Walemin Gweendoor. A skiwed deep gnowme cawpenter. I say, 200."

The whetstones he moves aside with little interest. "One gold for de pile, since it come wid so many weapowns. Usually, ya only gedda few coppers, bud I can bundle 'em for goowd value."

Tapping on the synthetic venoms, and then the poisons, he estimates, "Can gib 10 each fow dese, 20 fow dese. Like acid, doesn sell well here."

Picking up some of the pieces of the statue, he looks at them for a minute, then tilts his head to the side and looks at them again, for a long time. Eventually he sets them down and pushes them aside, simply shaking his head.

Laying the mithril weapon on the countertop catches his attention and he leans over the counter to get a look at it. "Ooh. 150 for id?" he offers.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Faedryl does a quick mental tally of the numbers as they're rattled off, keeping pace with the shopkeep's calculations and numbers as they come out. If she's correct (and she is) it came to 2221 gold pieces, not counting Ilvara's shoes that they were still haggling over. She'd hoped for more, but expected less. It seemed a fair compromise. She nods. "A fair price, I accept." She gestures over to Sarith to begin the transfer of items, before turning back to the shopkeep. "Magical indeed. Enchanted to be resistant to wear and tear, eminently comfortable, as well as stylish. As I said, it's a shame to part with them, but needs must." As if to perhaps entice a better price for them, she looks back at the shop herself. "Perhaps you have some more practical magical items available yourself for sale?" She couldn't commit to anything, but she could get some ideas, at least - especially if they might serve the others and not her. 




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 23/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith was grumbling internally - as he often did - as he moves back and forth to bring over the copious amounts of items they had scrabbled together over their journey thus far. Part of him considered asking Ront for help, but the thought of having to argue the point seemed more effort than it was worth. No, like most things it would be faster and easier if he simply did it himself.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil boarded the ship with unease in his belly. He turned back to Borthan and whispered Stay calm. We need them more than they need us. We cannot afford to lose this opportunity. Stay calm. Without another word the two followed Nilvae past the slaves and onto the boat. When Nilvae began to cast her verbal spell over the captain, Derendil watched his reactions. Without missing a beat, Derendil stepped in where she left off. "Travelling in the Underdark has become more dangerous, Captain. There are demon patrols menacing everyone from the dueregar to the drow. We know for a fact that demon worshipping extraplanar manta rays have been spotted in the lake. With things being so dangerous, we wouldn't even brave the trip ourselves, if it were not for the immediacy of our need and the fact that we heard the fearsome Captain Hugabo and The Black Manta were in port. Surely we can mitigate these new dangers for each other with a bit of cooperation?"



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Advantage Nilvae.



*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan simmered, eyes flicking from the collared slaves to the demanding captain. But he remained silent. For now.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Faedryl&Sarith: Shopping*

"A tuhrade, hmm? Lemme see what I got," reaching beneath the stone counter, the kuo-toa fishes around and makes small pleased noises, eventually drawing up a trio of small, handheld glass display cases. He sets them upon the counter for Faedryl to take a look at.

"Here we ahve a humble liddle numba, a wring of solar pwotection," he waves a webbed hand over the first small class case. Inside is a simple bronze ring bearing an insignia of a happy little sun. "Nah much use down here, is she? But if ye tuwavels ever brings ya to da surface, she's easier den sun-salve an' bulack glasses."

Moving onto the next, he displays a pair of silver earrings with blue rocks shaped like teardrops. "Dese here once belownged to a weeping widow of a sailor who nevah weturned. Long as yuh wear dem, water cannoh touch ya. Dis one, she's one ova kind, so I'd ask fuh 100 gold on top o' da tuhrade."

Bringing forward the last one, he displays a fancy-looking red masquerade mask decorated with bright orange feathers. There is no strap, only a handle by which to hold it in front of the face. Furthermore there are no eye holes on the mask, only a delicate painted set of shut eyelids with graceful lashes. "Lastly, dis mask is gweat fowr fancy pawty twicks. Mhm. Leds yuh see widhout eyes. Can even look backwards widout turning yuh head," he jabs a thumb over his shoulder.

"Natuwahly, you ahr fwee to buy as many as ya please, if more den jus' de tuhrade catches ya fancy. 1000 fow de ring or mask, 1100 f'da earrings, mmwhaddaya say?"

*Nilvae&The Boys: Shipping*

The sound of an offer of pay catches the captain's attention and his one frog-like eye practically light up. The other has been replaced with a fake eye made out of what appears to he solid gold, with a thin ring (which _is_ indeed glowing with orange light) where the pupil or iris would be. With a swish of some loose material hanging around his waist, like a coat tail without the coat part, he turns from directing his crew to face her group. "Had me ad _pay hansomely_, dame," he greets her with a bow, lifting up his gilded axe to lie casually across his shoulders.

Lifting his head up, the captain rubs his slick lower lip with one hand. "Exberienced travelers, are you? Id is drue, dangers have pigged up ladely on de wadder. You know, dis ship is named fer huntin' dem mantas," he grins wide and slaps the wooden railing along the edge of the deck proudly. "Bag when I were a younger toa full off ridegeous fury and lust fer advendure. Now mosdly smuggling stuff de surface folk like gedding quiet from one place to anodder. And nadurally, I'd expegt a quiet tongue and minden de eyes of ye own business. You dond mind, do you?" he asks, fully transparent about his profession.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

She eyes the items with some scrutiny. The sun-blocking ring certainly would come in handy for either herself or Sarith, though hopefully her fighting days above ground would be limited. She is, however, keenly aware that any gold spent would be scrutinised by the others, and if she spent all their ill-gotten gold on trinkets and they lacked funds sufficient to purchase passage...it would not end well. "I may be interested..." She trails off, continuing the dance. "I will trade for the ring, for now. Once I have spoken to the others about our other expenditures though, we may return for the others."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

The elven woman nods eagerly. Why of course. Your cargo and crew are none of our business. But I cannot help but talk to your crew a bit if allowed.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Shopping*

"Wahnderful choice," bringing out a key, the kuo-toa shop keeper unlocks the small glass case and opens it, allowing Faedryl to claim her purchase. Picking up the traded shoes, he sets them aside behind him, to find a place for them later.

"If you decide to induwge in some uddah trinkets an' baubles, just come on back."

*Shipping*

With one arm, the Captain sweeps across the view of the deck. "As you please. De guards are in town now, enjoying de fesdivities, feel free da question de rowers. We will be sdaying until affder de Festival." The collared kuo-toa at work appear to be rowers, as well as loaders for the ship. "I'd say de starding offer is two-hunded a head. Maybe more if ye going far outta de way. Give id a thingk."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Worried, they could not pay this amount of money or it was all they had, but Nilvae nods for now. I have to get back to you. My friends are liquidizing some assets as we speak. With that Nilvae beckons Derendil and leaves.

2000 gold for the crossing feels very painful. Any good ideas how to save at least some for better weapons? Other than that, I can just try to connect to my master to see what the demon coins can get me. I am against using them to fuel the demonic horde, but I am sure caught souls are at least a bit more thankful to end up in the Feywild than the Abyss.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Faedryl eyes the ring, before slipping it into her pocket. Though she believed the vendor honest about the powers it held (if only to avoid angering a drow customer), it would harm her nothing to have it double checked before adding it to her arsenal, or handing it to Sarith. In truth it might serve him better than her on the field, though she found the prospect of any conversations - either with him directly or with the others - around her gifting him a ring thoroughly unpleasant. He might fight better with it than her, but avoiding boring questions about romance might be worth more than a thousand of his arrows. 

She gives a light inclination of her head in farewell, before turning to her mover-of-goods. "Lets return to the inn, we can await the ship-seekers there. I'd rather not trail around town with our bags jingling with coin."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

"I don't know much about fey, or their wild, but from what I do know of other options going to Hell or the Abyss sounds a lot worse. 'Least in the Feywild you probably get nice scenery for your eternity, right?" Borthan takes the Captain up on his offer to ask the oarsmen questions, approaching one who is moving to haul cargo and grabbing the other end of it to lend a hand. "Scuze me, friend, but I'm genuinely curious- is that Captain paying you, or does he own you?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil frowns and shakes his head at Borthan's line of questioning, turning back to Nilvae. "The moral thing to do would be to find a way to free those souls. However, I fear that our pragmatism and practicality may outweigh the better angels of our natures. I will not resist a path of lesser evil, but I also don't plan to profit personally from soul trading. Arm Borthan and Sarith if we must, but I will use what I have until we cross paths with more magical gear."

----------


## RandomWombat

*Shipping*

Borthan finds one of the deckhands, who is startled and nearly drops the box when Borthan picks up the slack on the other end. The collared toa looks up at him with a bemused expression, then carries on with bringing it onto the ship and down belowdecks, where Borthan can see other boxes and sacks of goods lined up between the benches of the rowers. At the other end of the rowing level, another short stair leads deeper below to a third level of the ship.

"Payeeng? Owben?" the kuo-toa burbles to Borthan in a much more crude attempt at Undercommon than the others he's met. The fishwoman tilts her head to either side and then places a hand on her chest. "Blb _t h r a l l_ casde." She sounds out the word slowly. "Beblong shursh. Lenn cabden."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan finished helping the slave kuo-toa, then moved back to his allies. "Let's get the hell outta here. I'm gonna dislike every moment I'm on this tub, but it suits our purposes."

----------


## RandomWombat

In moods positive and negative, the motley crew gradually gravitates back to the inn. Their lowest room proves the easiest place to meet in relative privacy from the thronging crowds of fish outside, albeit rather crowded. Jimjar remains absent, still out on the town, while Ront is chowing on some seasoned shrimp kebabs.

Wasting no time once they are _mostly_ all gathered and she no longer needs to repeat herself more than once, Topsy reports the twins' findings. "The festival coming up is a celebration of what the fish call their Deep Father. The goddess whose statue we saw has fallen out of favor for this new god." She looks over at her brother, who seems to develop a case of stage fright when he sees he's being cued to carry on the report. Rolling her eyes, Topsy continues, "Turvy overheard some of them talking about sacrifices. We eavesdropped for a bit to err on the cautious side, it doesn't sound like they plan to capture and sacrifice _us_. They've got somebody to offer up already."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

She'd like to call them barbarians, but sacrifices to divine entities wasn't exactly unusual in drow society. In fact it was practically a day-to-day occurrence for someone - a slave or prisoner, usually - to get offered up to Lolth in a needless waste of blood. It was however...not their business.Fighting a town of people to stop a sacrifice seemed like the opposite of smart. "We should still try to stay away, just in case they decide one isn't enough, and ideally move in pairs or a group rather than alone. I'd rather none of us get snatched off the street for sacrifice or worse." With the group reassembled she gestures to the bags. "Just over 2200 gold for our haul in total. Hopefully it's enough to buy us passage. I've not spent any - yet, but I'll be heading back out once we've got an idea of what we have to work with." She nods to the ship team, but before they can pipe up she tosses the ring she'd traded for to the gnomes. "The merchant said that'll protect against sunlight, but I'd like to be sure I didn't trade away my one pair of good shoes for a dud. Could you double check it?" A surprisingly humble request, all things considered. Yes, she _could_ tease out the threads of magic herself, but she _was_ busy doing other things for the moment.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Derendil spoke up at that moment. "The captain of the Black Manta says it will cost us two hundred per head to cross the waters. He said perhaps more, so I think if we do hire his boat we must set clear expectations before we leave dock. If we had other options, I would say pursue them, but since our options are limited to either the Black Manta or swimming, I think we've found our fish."




*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Derendil grumbles about "Necessary evil... before drawing his jackknife and using it to clean under his nails.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

It was more than she was hoping for. 200 gold a head seemed excessive for travel on a ship in anything but luxury - they were being gouged due to being the only option. Frustrating. Borthan's words catch her attention though."Is there a problem with the ship?"

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

Borthan spoke louder and more clearly- "The Captain is running a crew of slaves. Thrulls. Lower caste. Somethin'... they're hard to understand, you know? But it's easy to understand collars." He squeezed his hand into a fist and punched his palm. "If it's the only option, we do what we have to do, but I won't be held responsible for what I'll do if that Captain raises a hand to them."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

After the almost-fiasco at the ship, the talk of sacrifice and the rampant replacement of deities seemingly summoned from thin air, the half-elf sighs. We allied with demonic sea pancakes. We allied with ambiguous drow. Her smile gets wider as she looks at Faedryl and Borthan. I am friends with an orc, two svirfneblin and a monstrous elven prince. We are hardly what anyone would call radiant heroes ourselves. Heck, my own allegiance is to a dubious fey lord, so maybe just keep our heads down before we discuss morality. She pauses and looks at Borthan, seemingly the one most at odds with slavery.

I have another 'event' planned for tonight, if you are to share. My radically shifting powers are worth a discussion with my master over our contract. The more magically inclined have noticed my powers wildly shifting around. Nilvae draws the soul coins from somewhere. And we have these poor sods to deal with. I am inclined to free them. These are souls, they need and deserve freedom, and I am sure my fey master agrees. And you know what, maybe he will give us something for showing him new friends.
Yes, in some ways summoning a feylord beyond our power is a dumb idea. But hey, he helped me, and I came out on top, didn't I?

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Slaves might end up being a positive in keeping the coin in their pocket, in the long run. She didn't have goldhands by nature, money was just a means to and end, but their 'end' was still very far away and the more money they could keep hold of the better. She didn't want to suggest a slave revolt before they were even on the boat. Best to keep that filed away for now, in case Jimjar got chatty while playing cards.

The prospect of soul trading with some ephemeral fey lord sent a silent shiver up her spine, which she suppresses from showing to the others. "I doubt any fey would let good souls go." She'd read stories. "Do as you like, but I want no part of it." And perhaps she should accelerate her own research on freeing souls from coins. They were an asset to be used, and pragmatically she should encourage using every asset they had - but the idea of trading them as currency set something askew in the pit of her stomach.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Fey are tricksters, but don't think I will give him the souls completely. My idea is the following: Puck plays with the souls for a year, in any games that does neither harm them physically or mentally. He may transform them into animals, or simply show them the Feywild. Once the year is up, the souls are free to go. The only thing he gains is the enjoyment of fun. Nilvae smiles softly.

Despite being creatures of anarchy, fey do have to follow their contracts. And who else to point out loopholes than a shred drow, huh? Sure, you laid low for decades not interfering with your family's business, but you are still a threat and were attacked. And you are still alive, despite the scheming. You are smart enough to draft a contract with me.

----------


## RandomWombat

"_Good_ souls?" speaking up, Topsy scoffs at Faedryl's words, though the double meaning was likely unintended. "These came from _demons_. Whoever these people were, they were the worst kind. You don't get sent there unless you do the kind of things that would make _you_ shudder." The gnomess flicks her finger aside at the drow woman. "Frankly, I don't see why we should care what happens to them. Whoever we give them to it's already better than they deserve, and it's taking souls out of the hands of the Demon Lords, which is a service to _everybody_."

Rubbing his arm, Turvy eyes the coiled coin between Nilvae's fingers. "I... I don't really like it either, but Topsy has a point."

Their orcish companion doesn't have much to weigh in on the business of souls and afterlife. He intrudes upon the conversation only to belch loudly, and picks his teeth with the skewer left over from his meal.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Faedryl folds her arms, defiant. "From what I've read, the fey and I have very different ideas of what 'play' is, and I'm not interested in putting myself on the map of a fey lord as a person of interest." The denial was clear. Demons were more brutish and destructive, but they were also more easy to understand. Tales of people losing voices, their sense of self, or worse to a poorly worded fey bargain were commonplace, and even with a century under her belt, the fey were older and more used to striking such bargains. She wouldn't stop Nilvae, but she wouldn't involve herself either. 

"Souls that end up with demons could be there for any reason. A mother saving her child from illness, a man who needed the brains to save his family business, or - yes - a bargain for selfish power." She fingers a coin, holding it up to the light before tossing it onto a table before the group where it rattles for a moment with an unpleasantly dull sound. "That could be any of us, if the circumstances were different." It could have been her, if Mother had decided on a different torture, perhaps.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

"I may not like the soul trade, but it's an impractical man that ignores the money in his pocket, and I am not impractical. Especially seein' as things are gonna get tougher 'round here before it gets easier. And the trip across the lake is pricy enough that I'm willing to do what I need to do to get my hands on a good weapon." Borthan looked to Ront's meat skewer with a bit of jealousy. "Considering we don't have the time or resources to figure out how to release those souls, and since we don't know if they'd zoom right back to the Abyss, I say we use the whole deer on this one and take what we can get."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: fearful | Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

*Somewhere outside the town:*

With Stool on her side, Nilvae hopes to contact her lord again. She lays down a few fun doodads for him as presents. A splinter of the fallen god's statue, what Nilvae assumes to look like a miniature version of male genitalia, a calamari tentacle she bought on the market and a tiny bag full of spores to "have fun with" as Stool put it.

On the elf's request, the myconid creates a circle of toadstools in the midst where Nilvae places her gifts. Waving a hand, she summons a small banner in the air. In glittering colors of the rainbow, it says: W E L C O M E, P U C K! and in some blood-dripping letters below, it says YOU OWE ME AN EXPLANATION!

_Fairy of whimsy
Come to me
Be my best friend forever
Show me love and affection
Be everywhere I am
So mote it be_

The words are enunciated with a weird mix of thankfulness, anger and fear.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach*

The ever present spider- and occasional donkey- accompanies Nilvae and Stool. Venturing to a secluded corner of the gloomy beachfront outside of town, Nilvae constructs a fairy ring with the aid of her shroomish assistant. At the center is a little mushroom with a door and windows molded into it.  Her chanting rings against the crooked stone, echoing around and behind. Though his instructions were to come alone, Puck does not seem to consider either their mutual arachnoid friend nor the little myconid a breach of etiquette... for he soon makes his appearance.

There is a flash of pixie dust from inside of the little hit and Puck opens the door. He strides out wearing a towel and with another draped over his shoulders, hair still wet. Picking up the end of the piece of calamari with one hand, he bites into it and leans back on the air, his glowing wings levitating him aloft on a phantom chair. A dark blue, bald head pokes out of the shroom hut afterwards, Eyegore emerging along with their mutual master.

"Brought the Spore Lord's little prophet with you, huh?" he asks after swallowing the tiny mouthful. "That's fine. The old Mad Capper and I don't have any bones to pick between us, which is good on account of he doesn't have bones to pick at all." Cackling at his own joke, Puck kicks off of the ground back to a standing position and circles Nilvae's other offerings with a ponderous hum, scanning over the scene and coming to the dripping letters above.

"Owe you an explanation do I? Well then, let me get one little safeguard out of the way before we start with my _surprise_," smirking, Puck spins around the face her and his face slips from that of a jolly pixie to that of a dead serious little sprite. "Ixnay on the L-say of Spidertay, comprende? No naming the you-know-who of you-know-what, you-know-never while we're talking about my _plans_. That name is hexed, warded, scried, top ten words a smart fella never says," he counts off the maledictions on his fingers. "Disobey that little ground rule and I'll promote Eyegore here to Tonguegore. Got it?"

That out of the way his chipper expression alights immediately back onto his face, and he fires a finger gun at Mr. Spide. "Presto. Upgrade-ama-fy." A flash of silvery sparkles shoots out and the glitter sticks to Mr. Spide's face. The illusory monocle and top hat normally only visible to Nilvae glimmer into existence for Eyegore and Stool as well.

The monocle narrows in an imitation of an annoyed expression and the spider's fangs move. It takes Nilvae a moment to realize that her spell is not active- yet she and the others can understand him just fine. "What was _that_ supposed to-? Oh my," Spide raises a hairy leg to his fangs in surprise.

"That's right! Our little game was fun for a bit but it's getting old. So, you can talk again! And you can even swap out with your _better half_ now," Puck explains. As if in demonstration, Mr. Spide begins to come apart and unfold like origami, cycling around until distorted shapes refold into the form of a startled looking donkey. The donkey brays... and does _not_ speak. A few seconds later its eyes go wide as it begins to unfold and reassemble into the shape of Spide once more.

"You see sunflower," Puck leans forward and looks up at Nilvae. "_Mr. Spider_ and I had a contract of our own. I entwined his body and soul with that of a common farm donkey, who once plowed the land on a pretty little farm. That scooched his soul over into the domain of Chauntea, protecting him from the phantom puppetstrings of _you-know-who_. Now I find myself in need of more agents, so I'm loosening the restrictions I made him follow so he can be a better help to you on your mission."

The pixie prince gives Nilvae's entourage a moment to process as he leans over to take another bite of calamari.

*The Inn*

A few minutes after Nilvae's departure, Jimjar climbs back up into the 'common' inn room and strolls inside, leaning against the wall with a certain sort of smile on his face. The sort of smile that's about to ask for something. "Where are your shoes?" Topsy asks, taking note of his exposed, slightly damp socks.

*"An excellent question, you see, I needed collateral while I went to secure some funds,"* the gambler explains. *"Anyone care to lend me eight gold pieces? I will repay you double at a later date. Jimjar always repays his debts, of this you can be sure,"* he crosses over his heart, tracing an X with a finger as Topsy rolls her eyes at him.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 36/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool squees as he sees the magic before him. Nature magic too, and not far from his druidic powers. Stool honored to have your attention, tiny fairy mage. it resonates within Puck's head. Fascinating magic. Too dangerous for Stool, but very fun!





*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae tried to mask how impressed she was a bit by focussing on her little myconid friend and his calmness. I thank you then. On behalf of Mr Spide at least. My dear friend Muttley was not so lucky. She sounds downtrodden. Even though she lost her dog almost a tenday ago, she was still saddened. Drow spiders ate him. Damn them. She coughs and draws the coins in her fist, taking a step towards Puck.

We are in peril, and I did not call upon you just for old times' sake. There is trouble brewing down here. Someone agitated the demon lords and demons are pouring into this realm. We need a bit more help, maybe a bit of insight. She reveals the soul coins. Consider these souls not payment, but entertainment. In exchange for them in your power, I ask of you for to reveal more information. Tell me what you know! Of all these dirty demons. Starting with _HER_. Nilvae grips the coins,  even though she knew Puck would not grab them by force. That was too boring. We do not know what to do with these. They may be evil, they may be innocent. But one of your power and influence might make something of it regardless.

Nilvae was never a shred businesswoman like her mother, but she learned to drive a bargain.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

"A shame you didn't come back sooner, maybe we could have given you the soul coins to bargain with, since gambling them seems the name of the day." Faedryl drawls with an eyeroll. They could spare a few coins though. She slides 10 gold pieces across the table. "You have until we leave town." She wasn't expecting much. but losing money was a good way to stay in the good graces of the townsfolk - they might just need it if all this talk of sacrifice was on the table. Or Jimjar would sell himself into being a sacrifice. That would be unfortunate for him.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach*

"A shame. The dog was an ugly thing, but far from the worst emergency rations," Mr. Spide doffs his illusory tophat in brief mourning before returning it to its floating perch.

"_Peril?_" placing his palms over his heart, Puck makes an exaggerated sway of dismay. "Well we can't have that. Luckily, I have an ingenious plan to solve this very problem!" Fluttering his wings, Puck jumps atop the little shroom hit and stands with one leg upon the summit. A cave-breeze brushes his shaggy hair, rustling it against a laurel of tiny leaves around his head as he strikes a heroic image. "Yes. Tales of our courageous deeds will echo into legend. For today, we will make a _difference_."

"Nilvae, my mad little sunflower, I want you to take this." From within his leafy coat, he produces a tiny vial and holds it up to Nilvae. As it passes into her hand, it grows magically to her size, a glass tube corked shut with a glittering green juice inside. Puck's grin takes on a darker tinge. "I want you to find a way to make the Kuo-toan high priestess disappear. Doesn't really matter how as long as she is not present for their ceremony. Then, you drink this," he points at the potion. "And it will allow you to take her shape, for a time. Convince them at this Deep Father of theirs' is a benevolent deity, have them spare their sacrifices. And their belief will make it true."

His plan laid out, Puck sits upon the roof and looks at the tokens in Nilvae's other hand. "I do have a way we can make use of these. Here," he fishes out a small piece of paper and offers it up. Like the potion, it grows once out of his possession.

The small worn paper rectangle is a business card, colored in faded purples and gold stars. It reads _Marv's Mystical Masterpieces: Mauve Member_. Nilvae vaguely recalls seeing such a shop in town, strangely standing out of place. "Marv's an old business acquaintance. He can hook you up with some objects of uncommon power, if you've the tokens to trade."

*The Inn*

With a friendly smile, Jimjar accepts eight of the ten coins Faedryl offers. No more and no less than what was asked. *"It is a promise, miss. You will receive sixteen pieces before our ship departs- we did find a ship, yes?"* he tucks the coins into his pocket and raises his eyebrows.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

"You can bet Jimjar will return your coin. Gamblers have all the luck." Borthan waved at the deep gnome on his way out. "We've got a ship. Some of us aren't happy with it, but we'll have to make due."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae pockets the card and potion as a familiar familiar lands on her shoulder. Fish eyes are not tasty, but they will do. The half-elf has her focus on the fey lord though and fails to admonish her. Why do you care which fish gets elected? Don't tell me, the wrong fish summons even more demons?

Nilvae pauses and then smiles. What good does this us? And us-us, like in my friends, not us-us, like in us both? Her heart was already set on this huge insane gamble, but her logical side, and more importantly  her companions had to be "bought".

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach*

"Fish election?" Puck tilts his head, and snickers through his teeth at wayward thoughts. "... Anyway. Riddle me this, Nilvae. Demons all of a sudden start to run amok and demon lords walk the Underdark," the small fey waves his arms all around them. "And all of a sudden a new religion pops up, tangible enough to sway the unwashed masses. Where do you think their 'Deep Father' came from so suddenly, hm?"

He leans forward with his hand on his knees, then hops down from the mushroom hut with a graceful glide. "Right now that danger is stalking the Darklake. Ignore it and your boat ride could well end in a tragic chance meeting... _buuut_, if someone were to impersonate the High Priestess and make the kuo-toa believe that their Deep Father were benevolent, what do you think would happen?" Puck rolls his hands with a manic gleaming smile, hoping Nilvae can see where he's going with this.

*The Inn*

*"Oh, you can bet alright. Feel free to place a wager on it,"* taking hold of the rope ladder beside the entryway, Jimjar stands with one foot upon it and the other on their doorledge. *"Good to hear we've got passage."* He winks at Faedryl and then vanishes below the lip. *"See you later! With luck I will have your winnings by tomorrow."*

"Should have asked him for some playing cards to pass the time before he left," Topsy mumbles.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

"Still time for you to chase after him, if you really want them. There's always Piltellé, if you care for that." A traditionally elven word game played on long journeys that challenges the vocabulary and celerity of mind. It can be played in other languages but it never quite picked up the popularity that it did in the original elven. Opportunities to play it for drow were limited compared to surfacers, but it was still something she'd occasionally had cause to play under the guise of 'education'.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

But does she have eyes to pick? Eyegore chimes in. A stern look from both shuts the impish fey up right away. He flutters away, sitting on Stool's cap, who is confused but not necessarily amused. The myconid's mood is difficult to discern anyhow.

Good catch, Puck. You think you-know-who is involved in this installation of power? The drow have their fingers in almost anything I deal with these days. Nilvae lifts her finger to envelop her master in a harmless illusion of her last battle. She shows the unpredictable chaos her magic lightning caused. Besides I am thankful for diversifying my ... uhm portfolio, but how in the world do these new powers work? This looks....no, feels uncontrollable. Not that I am ungrateful, but I don't want to hurt my friends.

Nilvae's voice changes to be a little less asserting as usual. She does not mask her fear and confusion.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach*

"If I knew how this started I... _probably wouldn't_ tell you for free," Puck admits, coyly yet honestly, with a playful shrug. "Well, maybe if it was too boring to be a good joke later... I do have guesses though! If I had a list of suspects who'd find dumping demons into the Underdark a real hoot? You-know-who would be at the top of my list. If not? Probably an idiot mortal somewhere messing around." Letting his arms hang at his sides, he casually points over at Stool. "_His_ Lord has been conducting an investigation."

"I would rather enjoy _not_ being turned into a potted plant next," is Mr. Spide's only comment on Nilvae's second question.

Raising a finger to his chin, Puck attempts to look innocent. "What if I told you that wasn't me? Eheheh, well, not me directly. I believe it has to do with the faerzress. That _magic static_ you lot were marinading in for days in that cell might've gotten into the gift of magic I gave you. It's notoriously Wild, and it's been getting Wilder lately. Tell you what: you do this little favor for me, and I'll see if I can find something to help... keep it in check. As a reward."

*The Inn*

"Chasing guys like that gives them the wrong idea." Raising an eyebrow at Faedryl across the room, Topsy drums her fingers on her knee and considers the offer. "Tell me how it works, some way to pass the time down here sounds like a godsend," getting up from her spot, the gnome twin finds a place nearer to Faedryl's spot to lean so that they needn't call out across the room.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 36/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool hums excitedly. The spores extend to the small fey, covering it in a cloud. Psilofyr does think and check? Carrion King does decompose and feed, not think. Things die and we feed on it. Is simple!

But He does protect myconid. Protect Stool! The small myconid squeals in a high-pitched noise.





*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae looks at Stool, then Puck. Oh come on. I know this is no laughing matter, but what happened to your fun loving personality? You almost sound like a thieves' guild leader, not a fey king. You'd laugh at my misfortune. Heck you turned him into a mule-spider. She points at Mr Spide. Anyhow, I will return with news and possibly a newly installed king. Or should I just call you when the deed is done?

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

"The elven version has slightly different rules but the common and undercommon variants are both quite similar. Someone picks a starter word - let's say 'Chair' as an example, the next person has to say a word that starts with the last letter of the starter word, so 'Rhododendron', then the next person would have to do a word starting with 'N', and so on. If you do a word ending with a vowel, or if you repeat a word that was said during the round, you lose. There are a few variant rules too but that's the basic gist of it."

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach*

"Nobody ever _really_ knows what Ol' Madcap is thinking," Puck responds to Stool with a gleam from his teeth, as unblemished and unnaturally perfect as everything fey. A knowing smile carrying anything but positive omens. "But you're right little mushroom. He only acts when his children are at risk... which should tell you a lot."

"Anyways- I have no plans to make your Wild Magic _boring_ my dear, fret you not! I would sooner pickle my own feat and nibble my toes for candy corn!" twisting on his heel, Puck marches back into the little mushroom hut. "But earn my favor and I'll make sure the misfortune is mostly directed elsewhere." He kicks the door shut behind him with a heel, and a flash of light leaves blue sparkles in the air, drifting out of the windows with Puck's departure.

*The Inn*

The two gnomes join in the game, after some prodding from Topsy to push her brother out of his shell a little. Ront opts not to join the game of words thinking it pretty dull sounding, and climbs to a different room to turn in. The back and forth helps to pass the time, while they await the warlock's return.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

*The Inn*


"Ax? I get X? Godsda... Xorn!" Borthan always exclaimed something, even after being assured it is against the rules, seeking to buy himself time. He was at a disadvantage in word games, or really any battle of wits, so he would take any advantage he could get. He remembered when he got lost and didn't speak to another person for almost a year. He always found a word, usually an exotic monster he'd heard tales of, and simple, short words. He often challenged other's words legitimacy as an excuse to learn what each one meant. He offered several gray dwarf words, forgetting more rules, and by the end of the game Borthan was fuming and swearing, but this rapidly changed to laughter, patting Turvy on the back and congratulating his words. He may have lost the game (in several ways, repeatedly), but he now knew considerably more words, and one day that might save his life. Or end someone else's. Vocabulary might be a weakness, but blades could be sharpened, with time and effort.   




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 31/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:0/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st, 1/2 2nd 

Volume...

Derendil felt superior for several turns of the game, offering some of the most archaic and exotic words he could muster.

Lilac.

C? Sunuva... Cat. Always wanted a cat...

No need for the diatribe. Foul, Borthan. Again, you're supposed to try to keep the rhythm, which is difficult to do while cursing... 

"Stuff it, Bigun. It's an elven game, and I'm more elf than you right now!

Derendil visibly drooped at this comment, and Borthan grumbled. "Well crap. You've got to be more elf than me. You're an elvish prince. And I'm pretty sure I'm three quarters squat bald butthead, so you can make the rules. I'll try to follow them next time. Wait... Cat... T...Time! HA!"

Derendil, appreciating at least the gesture of walking back his claim, corrected Borthan one last time. "Fault. Not your turn. Excuse me... I find myself weary."

Derendil went in the other room, laying down opposite of Ront. He spent much of the evening staring at the wall and wondering if this form could cry.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Inn*

The gnomess appears to have a competitive streak. At first, Topsy is particularly strict about the rules as she learns them, irritated and snapping whenever Borthan messes them up. Eventually Turvy is able to soothe her rules lawyering and convince her to relax - it's just a game, after all. "It's alright. We're all just killing time."

Forcing her bitter sneer off of her face, Topsy brushes her brother's hand off of her shoulder. "Hmph. Kindred? Dream."

Her brother, on the other hand, remains quiet with his hands folded in his lap (when he's not nearly knocked over by Borthan's boisterous congratulations). When his turn comes around he ever responds quietly and briefly. Never are they particularly superfluous or confusing words for the sake of it, as his sister sometimes does to try and catch someone. "Mail."

"Male ends in a vowel."

"Mail, as in, to mail a letter."

And so it goes on.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 36/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Finally, Stool, Nilvae and her pets enter the inn. Curious about the local cuisine, Stool is more pulled to the inn's garbage disposal than its prepared meals. Nilvae has to negotiate access to the nearly decayed trash for Stool, since the small guy claims that "decomposed eatery is quicker food, and part of his beliefs is that he is responsible for his part of the biological cycle." Nilvae at least translates it that way. The emotions that the myconis sent to her brain were a confusing mess of hunger, fervent faith and something about Stool wanting to talk to the mold.

With that, Nilvae leaves the small fungus for the others.





*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae finds the group sitting about bored out of their minds already. Which was weird since that was the first proper rest they had since she hit the Underdark. Around her head a moth flutters about as she actually just brings her donkey inside. Don't worry, my friend is house-trained. she says to the few concerned by this. 

She spreads her arms as if to embrace the group and tells them. We need to talk. Somewhere private. I have worrying news. With that, she leads those willing to hear her out upstairs into one of their rooms.

*Upstairs.*
The half-elven maid sends out her little moth with the command to look out for anyone listening in on them. Then she takes a good 10 minutes to ward the door against touches. Then she starts. The Kuo-Toa are being manipulated. Puck assumes it is demons, because their radical shift in beliefs is known to them. The upcoming feast is where the High Priestess that follows the 'Deep Father' Nilvae uses air quotation marks. will receive sacrifices. It would strengthen him, and if my master's informations are correct, then these sacrifices would strengthen the Deep Father.

She looks into the faces of those who listened and pinpoints the worriers, especially the more pragmatic drow faction. Even if that is of no concern to the less morally inclined here, a demon corrupted and powerful rising deity could endanger our boat ride. I don't think I need to repeat myself when I say we are almost helpless on the water. Unless someone can swim for miles or breathe underwater, that is.

As she finishes her monologue and opens the discussion about this, she drops the soul coins on the table as well.  Remember these? Well, apparently a local trader known as Marv hides in plain sight and sells magical artifacts in exchange for these. We could scope out some things here. Maybe something that help surviving on the water.

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting Alarm on the room's door.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

"So your fey would have us...what, fight an entire town of Kua-Toa to stop this? Take the the streets and slaughter them to stop the sacrifice?" Faedryl snorts. "Fey 'jokes' really are something else. It's not about morals, it's about sense. Pragmatism. Last I checked there's less than a dozen of us, and I don't want to speak for everyone but I'm not very enthusiastic about putting our ship - our _only_ transport option - in jeopardy by becoming public enemy number 1 in _another_ town. I've got quite enough of that back home. Unless you've got some plan that doesn't involve us killing the town's high priestess, maybe we should just...leave? A dangerous boatride is better than no boatride at all." There would be other heroes or adventurers to come along and slay the rogue demonlord or whatever it was that was risen. There always was, and while she's not eager to see people sacrificed, ultimately she still has to look after herself, and the group.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

"Deep Father? So... what... some kind of fish demon? Like a bigger, scarier, more powerful version of the sting ray demon? Crap, that does sound problematic... Borthan considered Nilvae's words for a few moments before speaking again. "I hate to say it, because watching people get sacrificed is not high on my list of entertainment, but I think Faedryl is right. If we try to stop this and mess up, suddenly we're at war with the whole town, with no promise that the Captain is gonna haul our butts out of the fire. If we see an opening... or someone has some hidden magic they haven't shown yet... maybe we could make something happen, but I don't like our odds if we just step up and stab a priest. Maybe we should go backwards a bit and ask our resident FRIENDLY fish priest if he has any ideas." Borthan began to worry at his fingernails with his jack knife to give himself an outlet for the anxiety growing in his chest. "But before we do anything we see what we can get for our dirty demon money. If I'm gonna fight a fish demon god, I want something bigger than Patchy here."

----------


## RandomWombat

*Evening, if indeed there be such a thing in the Under*

Topsy and Turvy both attend the group meeting, with Ront absent on account of sleep and Jimjar still out on the town. Neither of them seems particularly thrilled about the idea, but Topsy seems to be in the same camp as Borthan. "He makes a good point. I'm not too keen on going boating in demon-infested waters, but something like this takes meticulous planning and we have what... two days?" She looks around at the others. "Maybe the fish-saints already have something cooked up. We should sleep on it. I for one have a pair of sore legs and no desire to go walking around any longer."

As usual, Turvy remains an observer to the discussion. Any thoughts are carried silent, bereft of the courage to share them.

*That Night*

Fevered dreams brew and the drow runaway tosses and turns in the night. Cold sweat drips from her brow, trailing down onto the bedding. She is not the only one. Turvy whimpers in his sleep. Fingers grab and scrape at his cheek, clawing at something unseen, trailing a shallow red cut from one of his cracked fingernails.

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

It is like an out of body experience. Floating in the middle of the inn-room, as if hanging in equilibrium beneath briny water. The ceiling dances with swirling splashes of light, criss-crossed by the shadows of waves. It is a flying dream. A simple kick of the toe against the wall just in reach, and she could drift out to drift among the fishy termite mounds.

Peaceful, until interrupted by a searing crack that runs through her skull. The touch of something alien, and distant... and unsettlingly familiar. Flashes of a book cover, lock and chains lying undone. The name escapes her, like a slithering serpent that twists out of the path of her tongue. It's there, somewhere. But it's not a thing she can speak with word of mouth. The sound pulls at her. It is being spoken in words not of the mouth, a voice not of the lungs, and she can overhear. It is... below. Below, and down the street. The longer she listens the less it hurts. It feels like broken chains and starlight. It feels like standing in the open wind and looking at the night sky's vastness.

Something else, too. Subtler. A great unease. Like standing upon a pane of glass and feeling it begin to bend, two reflections peering back from either side as it threatens to snap. Static dances across her skin, strangely vivid in spite of the dreaming. There is a hand on her shoulder? Clawed, green. Dull and drab. It ushers her towards the dark lake, the dark sea. But then it's gone.


She could swim to them if she desired. To the word, to the book and the broken chain. Or out over dark waters where the guiding hand ushers.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: Selfish
Concentrating: --

Powers that beckon. Call. Tempt. She knew them, in her soul even if not in her mind. Emotions bubble up from her belly. Hate, regret, gratitude. A triumvirate of complications. Her life stretched down different paths, had she not listened, had she not delved. Flashes of The Other Faedryl, the loyalist instead of the failed revolutionary. A Faedryl she could never be, in body or heart. The stumbled path was still the road she was on, and cursing her fate would serve...nothing.

The book had set her on the path. It had become her path. It had become her strength. She shirks the claw, and seeks the book, the word, the shattered chain. Let it show her a new future.

----------


## RandomWombat

*That Night*

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

Will is enough. The will to move draws her through the door of their inn room, which opens to greet her. She finds herself floating above the crooked anthill streets of this ramshackle town, where indistinct shadows flit to and fro like excited fish in a pond.

The sound winds and curls through dreaming synesthesia, a wandering thought grasped in her hand like a thread of light. It guides, it offers resistance, granting inertia and motion in the void of the open air. Down, into the main street, where silver light shines through the cluttered facade and in the spaces where the door is parted from its frame.

A jingle of a tiny bell greets her, as the door swings open. On the other side is a grassy hill, the blades sallow and coated in a thin layer of frost. Above, a starry sky sends down a wind both bitter and refreshing. When Faedryl is drawn over the threshold, she becomes lost to gravity and leaves the brittle field behind. An invisible hand slips from her shoulder, abandoned to the earth below her.

Familiar sights and sounds invade her mind. Terrible memories flood back in, as a voice not of the tongue reads aloud in foreign sound. Cities rise on distant rocks, and crumble to dust. Great gleaming spheres burst, spilling cosmic detritus into the black darkness. In the shattered fragments, like still water, she can see reflections of herself.

An aged Matron, lying in a bloody bed, her daughter's blade spilling blooming red from her heart.

All the cruel ends a mother could devise, a failed revolutionary strung up in public as a spectacle for all to see. 

A lost, lonely girl, sitting gaunt against stone walls, the same endless grey as all those winding around her.

It is all too familiar. But something is missing here, the edge of horror that cut through to the core of a younger elven girl. Because she is older now, more jaded? No. It is like reading a book from long ago, and finding that she finally understands the words.

The reflections turn, their eyes meeting hers' across the broken flesh of dead worlds. Paths that could have been. Path that may yet be. 

"This isn't over," looking down from a stake, a failed revolutionary looks out of the flames and offers a stately nod.

"She deserves better than this," a weary old Matron touches the hilt of a bloody blade, tenderly.

"We can change," a lost girl wheezes, closing her eyes as the final breath passes her lips.

At once, Faedryl can feel the warmth of a fire soothing the cold chill of the black sky in which she drifts. She can feel the hilt in her hands. And a breath drifts in, between her lips, the cold tickling her teeth. Then the shattered fragments of the dead world drift past. 

Words begin to coalesce, understanding at last changing the tongue of thought and dream to one she can understand. Two voices together. One deep, strong, male. The other she keenly recognizes as her own, raising from the throats of the dead Faedryls. 

*Spoiler: The Universe Unsilenced*
Show

_My soul adrift,
I finally feel the wind upon my skin
A night sky looms
Points of light, adrift in
An endless sea of dark
A hundred thousand dooms,
Hold the spheres within their grasp.

And then I hear,
Far voices raised,
In every one is
A promise life can change

My soul adrift,
Finally seeing dreams
That were withheld from me
Collared things
Bottled up and bound
They were a captured sea,
Now flowing home.

In them I hear,
My voice is raised,
And every one is
A promise I can change

My soul adrift,
In death by death
I can see my face
Fading fast, final moments
On my final days
From lives I can't recall

Yet still I hear,
Their voices raised,
And every one is
A promise we can change

And I'm still here,
My soul adrift
On a sea of dreams
That were withheld from me
Collared no more,
I will break my chains.

Shouting into space,
I call your name
To reach you now-
When you need to hear
The sounds of hope
Drowning out the quiet fear

For I still hear,
The voices raised,
In every one is
A promise this can change

So into time,
I call your name
Please, lend your voice
To the song between the lanes,
That criss cross the stars
And let us break our chains

That all may hear
Our voices raised,
And know they need not fear
The universe silent._


*"... the universe silent."*

Faedryl's feet touch down upon dark brown wooden tile. She finds herself in a dimly lit shop, artifacts and curiosities arrayed upon shelves or laid beneath glass. Behind a central counter of display cases, a smiling elf-like creature stands. His eyes are narrow, dark slits ringed by wrinkles that look incorrect on an elven face. His skin is pale like snow. Dressed up in a dark purple suit, and a black tie.

To her left, a bookshelf. In front of it, a tall and imposing figure reads aloud the last words from a page of an open book, familiar and unchained, unlike the one bound in Mother's secret archives. It floats before him, one of four tentacles curling around the edge of the page and lifting it, then laying it back down upon the last.

The illithid turns, and dark sunken eyes peer from a cephalopodal face. He is wearing a deep purple robe, with a stylized symbol of an eye staring out from the chest. The same robe as the troglodyte woman, as Shuushar's master.

Instinctively, as it should in the presence of a mindflayer, her mind searches for exits. Behind her the door of the shop hangs open, leading into a sparsely furnished inn room. Her body lay inside, drenched in sweat. Others sleep soundly. Jimjar is awake and playing solitaire with himself on the thinly carpeted earthen floor. A pouch of coins is on the night stand next to her bed, that was not there when she went to sleep.

*"Hello, dreamwalker,"* the smooth, deep voice from before comes now from the illithid. It rings in her head like the words of the song. *"You have nothing to fear from me."* He looks back down at his book, her book- or another copy of it. Any momentary interest her interruption posed has passed.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

_Dreamwalker_. The word reverberated through her, yet it seemed in appropriate. She'd had her mind stolen away and was now stumbling through this vision without direction or knowledge. This was no arcane step of her own design or choice. Her mind should be racing, the things she was seeing. Her Others. So many paths of failure, or success by another name. Lives stolen from her, lives she was saved from. Was it guess-work that created these visions? Her own imagination? Or a true glimpse into times not taken, to a Faedryl of another time? She didn't know. Couldn't know. But it humbled her all the same. It made her small, a tiny mote of dust in the great river of time. And that, in turn, emboldened her. She would not remain a mote. She would become a stone - one that shifted the flow of time, instead of merely letting it carry her hither and thither. 

She doesn't believe for a moment that the illithid was no threat to her. Maybe that was the case until its belly felt empty, but from her lessons the haszak were _always_ hungry. If it was willing to talk though... "You know me then? I can't say the same, though I recognise the symbol you bear. Who are you and what..." She points at the 'precious' object, "is that book?" There were more questions she had, though she left them unspoken for now:Why do you bear the same make as the others? Since when do illithid share company with kua-toa and trogs?  What did it mean by 'the universe silent'?  It seemed like a threat, or a promise of things to come, one that she wasn't sure she'd like to see come to pass.  If the other Faedryls had been her worst timelines, knowledge of her current future might help her avoid a similar fate, and find the one she was most successful.

----------


## RandomWombat

*That Night*

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

Questions swirl in the drow's mind, as the illithid again regards her from across the room. *"I know approximately as much of you, as you know of me. That you are drow, and that you come here as a mind bisected from its corporeal form."* Still looking at her, his tentacle closes the book over his finger, serving as a placeholder now that she has occupied his full attention.

*"I am Grazilaxx, a member of the Society of Brilliance. It appears that... our reputation precedes me?"* the illithid's telepathic voice sounds surprised by the notion, the first real form of inflection that has come across through his unnervingly deep calm. *"Perhaps you have come seeking my nomination to join our membership?"*

Leaving the question hanging for the moment, he holds the book in front of him, drifting closer but keeping a display counter between them. *"This is the Thraxil axun Llithxe, more specifically, volume one of two. It is, if you would believe such an outlandish claim, a forbidden tome of illithid poetry. Free thought is not a well-loved thing, by our society's rulers."*

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

*Upstairs.*
No open attack, silly. We have to enter their temple and replace the high priestess silently. Nilvae reveals a potion in her hand. I will reblace de high prieshtesh. she says in her usual high-pitched voice. She pauses. Oh god my voice needs work. I say we scope out the temple sometime today. Some of us curious about the deity, and Borthan as a spy.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

She laughed. She couldn't help herself. A light giggle at first, but then her spectral form doubled over, hands clutched at her belly, ephemeral tears welling in her eyes as she laughed. Illithid poetry. That's what had set this whole thing in motion. It wasn't just funny, it was a cosmic joke. She rarely lost control of her emotions but this...she couldn't help herself. It takes her a moment to recover her composure, but she does, righting herself and wiping a tear from the eye. "Apologies, but if you knew my history, you'd laugh too."

Faedryl considers holding the information back, but the give-and-take on offer, the chance for true knowledge, made her push further. "Faedryl Melad. I have read that book, or one like it, in my family archives. It may have ruined my life. Or saved it. I'm...still not sure." And after the visions she saw, she was more conflicted than ever.  "I don't know anything about the society you speak of aside from the symbol, but if you have a connection to that book I'd like to know more, if you'll tell me."

----------


## RandomWombat

*That Night*

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

No comments are made on Faedryl's outburst, the illithid remaining impassive. If he takes offense, it does not show. *"I believe we may have that in common,"* he says, when she ponders on the nature of the path the book has set her upon. He withdraws his finger from the _Thraxil axun Llithxe_ and turns to set it upon the shelf from which it was taken. *"I had hoped to find the second volume here, but even this place does not count that tome among its stock."*

*"The Thraxil axun Llithxe was written by many hands, all inspired by Llithxe. A female of my species who in ambition not uncommon sought to ascend to godhood. Her quest ended in failure, severing her from her corporeal form and setting her adrift in the Plane of Dreams. However, this also freed her from the bonds of the elder brains' control,"* Grazilaxx recounts the history of the book, lowering his hand from the shelf to rest with the other in front of him. *"There she experienced many things. Contacted others of our kind through psionics, freeing them in turn, and guiding them to put to paper what she saw and felt. In a realm of emotion and idea, where the cold logics by which we normally operate are obsolete, and where time seems to blend. It is said that dreams can reveal paths that were, that were not, and that may be."* The illithid scholar rambles a little, like someone who has just been asked about his favorite book. 

At last he faces Faedryl again, this time with more emotive curiosity in his gaze. *"The poems and songs within are recorded psionically. They are not read, but experienced. Only one with the Gift - a psionic talent - can 'read' her works. Interesting that a volume should find its way to a drow archive, and be read by a drow woman. Do you possess the Gift?"*

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl had many 'gifts'. Her talent with the arcane, her knowledge of alchemy and poisons, her ability to...well, persuasion perhaps wasn't her forté after all in recent days, but she still thought she wasn't totally incompetent at wordsmithing. Still, she had the sense that Grazilaxx meant Gift-with-a-capital-G. And that probably meant..."Is this what you mean?" Her mind reaches, her eyes blacken with the inky darkness and she (gently) pushes against the mindflayer with her mind, with just enough force to be felt, but not to be taken as an act of aggression. It recedes, as quickly as it had come. "I'd always thought the book forced the powers on me. You're saying it was me all along?"

----------


## RandomWombat

*That Night*

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

The light shove draws the illithid's eyes down, and he brushes his robes straight again. *"So it is. You display a knack for the Gift, however small and untrained. It is most likely that it was always dormant within you, awakened when you were exposed to our writings. As a scientist, however, I cannot dismiss the possibility that the tome created a Gift in you."* Lowering his hands again, he folds them in front of him. *"Few from other species have been exposed to our writings. Fewer, still, to Llithxe's works, the abnormal properties of which are known to me but have not been thoroughly researched."*

Gliding over the fine wooden floor, Grazilaxx strides closer, then passes in the direction of the door. He pauses and turns to face her. *"I am afraid there is other business to which I must. My stop here was rather unplanned, and one of my colleagues requires assistance. I have time for perhaps one more question, before I depart."* He waits, for a moment.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

She still had many questions, many concerns, but pressing an illithid against their will was probably not something to be done, especially in a dreamspace, especially when it had otherwise been courteous enough. There would be other times. She purses her lips, prioritising them as best she can, before finally asking: "This Society of yours...what's your goal, if you have one?" She didn't wager her ability to tell truth from lie from the twitching tentacles, but perhaps even a falsehood would contain a grain of truth.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:19/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
1 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 0/3 1st

*That Night*

F on the tone, but A+ on the accent. You don't sound like Shuushar, but you sure do sound like Nilvae imitating a fish." Borthan yawned and stood up. "Long time since I've slept. Nows about time. See ya in the morning, people." Borthan crossed into the other room to find a suitable bed.

----------


## RandomWombat

*That Night*

*Spoiler: Faedryl*
Show

*"As a whole, the goal of the Society of Brilliance is to better the lives of those who live in the Underdark through the applied sciences. Our number is yet small, with only five members and one member-potential. We select only those whose minds are our equal and whose motives are pure,"* holding out his hands, the illithid delivers the Society's mission, before bringing them up to grasp the hem of his hood. *"Do not mistake us for blind idealists, however. We do not require our members to follow strict guidelines or religious moral codes. But those with a streak for pointless cruelty or parasitic selfishness are often inimical to our goal: the betterment of all lives in the Underdark."*

With a flick, he brings the dark purple fabric up over his head. A glimmer of magic spreads out over his violet flesh, changing into the appearance of a tall human with bright hair like stands of platinum. *"Each of us has our own specialty and area of research. But we collaborate to offer aid to one another as requires. My current area of research is developing an ethical and sustainable alternative food source for those of my people who shake free from the chains of the elder brains, and seek to cooperate with other sapient life forms. A means to limit mistrust - perfectly rational mistrust - and make coexistence possible at all."*

Hands folded in front of him again, Grazilaxx in his human guise nods to Faedryl. *"Farewell, Faedryl Melad. May you find your answers."* With this his goodbye, he steps over the threshold of the door, through the space where Faedryl sees it reach into their room at the inn, and de-materializes into thin air.

None here now save herself, and the Salesman, who has politely withheld from interrupting. If he can see her 'dreamwalking' at all and not just a man-squid staring into space.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

The mindflayer wasn't just 'kin', he was her. Another her, in a way. One who had been born a mindflayer and now through a twist of fate sought to stand against the tide of their people and change their paths to a better one. And this Society...yet more like her, though they barely numbered a half dozen. Certainly no army or grand web of power. But perhaps it would be enough? If she added their minds to her own, maybe she could find a way to solve the problem beyond just running to the surface and giving up. A glimmer of hope for the future, instead of survival, pricks at her heart. It was a dangerous thing, but she refused to stomp it down.

She still didn't know the future, no 'Gift' had granted her sure visions, but she at least felt more confident about her prospects. Either that, or this was all some cruel jape played by her maddened mind dreaming up her mindflayer doppleganger. She didn't know, but she would certainly have some questions for Shuushar's 'master' tomorrow. She gives a minor nod of acknowledgement, if the salesman could even see her, before returning to her bed.

----------


## RandomWombat

*A Morning, Bereft of a Sun*

It is not dawn's light that greets them, come morning, but the squeaky sound of a winch and rope. A primitive hollow in the wall of each of their rooms, in turn, is graced with a dumbwaiter delivering a breakfast of cold-served seaweed wraps stuffed with salty fish and fresh mossbread, drizzled with a light savory mushroom sauce. They are not extravagant (or particularly filling), but they sooth the pangs of morning hunger and have a refreshing chill that wakes the body.

The festival sounds and smells of street food are already resuming outside and beneath the inn-mound. 

Top Room - Derendil, Ront, Topsy, Turvy

By the time the others have awoken, Ront has already helped himself to the entire tray of breakfast sent to their room. Topsy is already chewing him out for it as he nonchalantly picks his teeth with the skewer from his meat kebab the day before.

"Did you think it was all for one person? Are you stupid?"

*"You stupid not to wake up earlier when smell food. First come first serve,"* Ront grins, baring his heavy tusks in challenge to the much smaller gnome. *"Sides, am biggest. Need most food."*

Narrowing her eyes, the gnomess looks over at the sleeping quaggoth curled up against the wall. "...And what about Derendil, then? He's pretty much as big as you."

*"Just too slow. Sides, crybabies need to learn to toughen up."*

Shrinking into the corner next to Derendil and away from the argument, Turvy is chewing on some leftover lizard jerky and cave mushrooms from their previous travel. When he notices Derendil stirring, he quietly offers a strip of the jerky.

Mid Room - Faedryl, Sarith, Borthan, Jimjar

Faedryl awakens not from her trance, but to a soaking wet bed, after a night of 'dreamwalking'. On the small table beside the bed is a bag of sixteen gold coins, precisely twice her loan to Jimjar - who is slumped over in the other corner of the room snoring and drooling on the floor, with an unfinished game of solitaire in front of him, the deck of cards kicked over by a leg in his sleep.

Bottom Room - Nilvae, Stool, Eyegore, Mr. Spide

When she starts to stir awake, Nilvae bumps her head on something. Opening her eyes, she sees that what was once the side of the bed leading to the open room when she went to sleep is now a wall. The simple cot beneath her also feels scratchier, and when she looks down she sees that the mat on the bottom is now between her and the softer mattress.

A glance around the room finds all of the furniture arranged upside down and backwards. Even Stool has been flipped and carefully balanced on his mushroom cap during his period of slumber. Thankfully the dumbwaiter has been spared the prank, and their food has not fallen down the chute.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Though she'd seen the coins on her bedside while dreamwalking, it hadn't been a thing she'd properly acknowledged in her mind, so when she stirs - sweating and in dire need of a bath - it's the first proper time she _sees_ them. She can't help but be surprised: She really had expected that Jimjar would lose out and she'd be out of the coin, and then have something to hold over him as leverage. Instead he'd paid his debt and then some. Perhaps he was better at gambling than she'd given credit for.

She takes to her portion of breakfast quietly, still mulling over the night's events in her mind. She couldn't tell anyone here, of course. "I dreamed I met an ethical illithid" would just have her laughed at. They had Shuushar's master to meet today - she could bring it up then. She'd wait for the others to awaken and then they could head out. She still didn't fancy trading soul coins as Nilvae had suggested, and if they could busy themselves doing other things she'd try to make sure they did so.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith had awoken before anyone else, of course. He'd been trancing in the night and now had nothing to do...so he just sat, and waited, alone with his thoughts. He was no stranger to remaining still and feigning 'sleep' from his military days, and doing so meant he wouldn't have to interact with anyone, or risk being ordered to do something by Faedryl.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 36/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

Stool wakes up relaxed and energized. The room being upside down and him too confuses him for a second, but then it is clear. He rolls to the side, laying there for a minute, talking to Nilvae's mind. Do not move fast. Your friend decorated room.





*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Eyegore enjoys sleeping upside down, and is rightfully confused as he wakes up right side up. He stumbles as his equilibrium slowly manages to realize he is just slumped against the wall like a discarded and very ugly puppet. Master! Big Master has pranked us. He is not agitated, but still amused in secret. 

Nilvae on the other hand is miffed. She was hoping for a good night's sleep, something she did not have in the Underdark. If that is the price to pay for my powers, I might reconsider. Standing up her hands glows threateningly towards Eyegore. I might start by ridding the world of your gift. she says as she casts a light spell to douse the dark room in something she is more fond of. The darkness loving fey recoils. Don't you love the dark now? With your eyes?

She just brushes Eyegore's comment away, looking for the others. Nilvae knocks once on Borthan's door, but enters uninvited. She has seen everything of the man, and even if he slept in the nude, she was not seeing anything anyhow. Except with her light spell. 

*Spoiler: If Borthan sleeps*
Show


Giggling like a school girl she took a stool and sat a few feet next to Borthan's bed if the ranger had not risen yet. She waits a few precious minutes watching him sleep peacefuly, if he did not notice her entering. Not for the show, but she needed a few minutes of even the most watchful person in peace. Wake up, my friend.


*Spoiler: If Borthan is already awake*
Show


Her disheveled hair showed she had not slept well. Did you at least sleep well this night, Bort? she asks, but immediately continues. I wanted to talk to you about our job. But first, about us. Do you hear me out, or are you focussed on the job again?

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

*That Morning*

Borthan, perhaps feeling confident in their safety in this poor excuse for an inn, was face down on his meager pillow, snoring lightly. When Nilvae urged him awake, however, he went rigid for a moment as he tried to remember where he was, then rolled to a sitting position with a groan, rubbing at his eyes and mouth as he struggles to wake. He wasn't nude, but he certainly wasn't dressed modestly, with most of his clothes in a pile next to his bed, a thick and water resistant blanket covering him from the waist down and leaving much to the imagination, with the exception of his well defined abs and biceps. "Mornin' Nilvae. Whatcha need? I feel like I slept on a stone slab last night, and I don't think I'm gonna be fully awake until I've had some food, but you've got atleast half my attention." Looking over at the small pile of coins near Faedryl, Borthan chuckled and looked to Jimjar with no shortage of appreciation and humor. "Little bastard made his coin back, huh?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil woke wordlessly, and he did his best not to rise to Ront's jibes. Taking the jerky from Turvy, the quaggoth prince smiled at the deep gnome and chewed eagerly. This will serve as a good appetizer. Maybe if we have some leftover coin we can get something heavy, fried, and unhealthy from the festival. And while we're enjoying delicious fried meat, those who have already eaten can strive to remember how tough they were when we were confronted by a demon and a cliff face."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"He'll suffer from his own success." Faedryl says between nibbles, making surprisingly light conversation considering her nocturnal enterprises - but if only to keep her mind away from it for now. "Now that we know he can win, none of us will take him up on a gamble anymore."

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 36/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: - 

Stool waddles out in search of some garbage and mold to eat, not wanting to disturb the other's sensibilities.





*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

First Nilvae is somewhat enchanted by Borthan's looks. This was the rugged man that more or less abducted her into the dark. Then she remembers the shared rooms. She looks left and right for the two drow. Oh come on now. I wanted to have a little fun with my guardian. Can't you two be proper drow and have sex with each other, or something? Nilvae smiles but her supernatural darkvision picks up two very frowning faces. She sighs. I came to discuss the strategy for today. We should maybe not even use all members of our fun group for this job. Replacing the priestess could mean a fight, yes. But we want her gone and no suspicion raised. Maybe consider Derendil but nothing about him screams subtlety. Maybe we can use Stool as a critter scout, but more people means more people who can be discovered.

My idea is as follows. I approach the priestess questioning her new deity with Faedryl. Sarith and Bort sneak inside, scoping out the area, dispatching guards, Stool enters as a cockroach or something, sending warnings to our minds if someone enters. I distract the high priestess as long as possible, but my cantrip does not exceed a minute. How's that for an idea?

If the others want a job, they can create a distraction next to the temple.

Nilvae stands up and approaches Borthan, rubbing through his hair, caressing his beard. Now what do you say, we pretend to have come out of the same room, my handsome mercenary? I am pretty sure they'll believe us.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"If you wanted a room for the two of you, you should have simply said so when we were getting our rooms in the first place." Faedryl eminently manages to restrain herself from magic missiling Nilvae's eyeballs when she starts talking about Faedryl's own sex life, a topic that she has little interest in visiting or revisiting for the next few centuries. "I have no idea how you think we're going to somehow get this high priestess to speak to two foreigners of dubious origins alone and then also dispatch her in a way that doesn't alert the people nearby to us being the ones who did it. Unless your fey plans to deliver a couple of actual miracles, I would estimate that to be beyond our group, especially on such short notice." She pops another morsel of food into her mouth.

"Perhaps Shuushar and his master have some information that could aid us, if we are to go through with this assassination." Plus it would give her time to talk to the kua-toa that may or may not be part of the Society. "I still need to deliver the supplies they asked for anyway."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

When Nilvae detailed her plan for either abducting or killing the high priestess of this dark and upcoming god of the fish, Borthan rubs at his eyes and thinks on the subject. He was about to open his mouth in favor of the plan when Nilvae began playing with his dreads and beard and suggesting playing a suggestive prank on the others. He looks like a deer caught in lantern light, all the bravado and bragging reduced to a "Uhhhhhhh...." as his cheeks invisibly flush beneath his dark skin and his eyes dumbly rove over Nilvae while he tries to consider the proposition. Faedryl adds to his embarrassment by throwing a verbal jab and questioning the plan, and Borthan's jaw snaps shut as his mind returns to business. He shrugs off Nilvae's rubbing with a curse and a "Damnit, woman, I can't think proper with you rubbin' on me and usin' your... feminine wiles! Lemme think a minute!"

Borthan is silent for a moment while he collects himself (and calms the fluttering in his heart and the ache of need in his small clothes). Then he speaks up. "I'm not opposed to the plan, but I agree with Faedryl that we should talk to Shushaar first. They'll have more intel, more motivation than us, and possibly even a plan of their own. At the very least if we are gonna start a small war in the middle of this town it'd be good to have some back up. We might also want to get more heads of our own into this to see if we can sharpen this plan to be even more effective. Biggun and Topsy probably will have some choice words that might make the difference between winnin' and losin'."

Having sorted through his thoughts and feelings on the assassination, Borthan's mind returned to the subject of sex, and this time a goofy smile overtakes his face. "Welp, when it comes to foolin' the rest of the crew into thinkin' we're an item or something, I mean, that we're screwin' around and such, I mean that we're makin' the beast with two backs... I suppose I'm not opposed to seein' people's reactions, but it seems to me that... I mean... Borthan coughs self consciously to clear his throat, perhaps betraying how unsubtle he can be. "But maybe we can make it more convincing if we play it up a bit more. Spend some time together. See all the best sights this mudhole can offer. Get some dinner. Maybe do some more of that hair playin' with around the others. Maybe it will be that much funnier if we... I dunno... make it convincing?" It doesn't take Shushaar's powers of perception to see that Borthan has more on his mind here than playing a simple joke, and his normal self confidence and sarcasm are completely melted away and replaced by an almost childish attempt at romance.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

I wanted to keep him out of this, but how you put it we might just need his aid. Nilvae concedes the point. 


[

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"If Shuushar or his 'master' want to be involved we shouldn't exclude them, but we don't need to invite them to participate in any actual execution - just offer any information they might have." Faedryl ruminates. "I'm happy to make the trek, though I don't think we all need to turn up on his doorstep, if you'd rather pursue other avenues in the meantime." There was still the matter of the ship - would they wait for us? And the...vendor for soulcoins mentioned before. Faedryl still was less than enthusiastic about such trades, but she still didn't feel right enforcing any such decisions on the group.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan recovers quickly to being snubbed, looking glum for a moment before perking back up at the mention of soul coins. "I'll take the demon money to the magic shop if that's on the agenda. I can't promise everyone something new and shiny, but I think I can prioritize what would be practical for us against what would be flashy or fantastic."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Seeing Borthan fumble to no end socially amuses Nilvae to great end. She approaches him and circles him like a farmer would a newly acquired farm animal. He was visually pleasing, but his confidence needed work. She sighs, leaning onto his shoulders. Stick to your guns, Bort. You're a bad liar, you know it. If I wanted some intimacy with you, it would certainly not in this group. She turns over. No offense, Faedryl. My joke about your kind was misplaced, and I am sorry for that. We are all elves here, more or less, like it or not. Any fumbling could lead to a surprise, and I am not talking a drow arrow sticking out of our necks. Nilvae signals her stomach.

Waving away Bort's concerns. The most important thing is Shuushar having to show me how a Kuo-Toa priestess behaves. I cannot learn to be one in a day, but certain queues are very helpful. I can convince many creatures to follow my words, but fish men are new, and alien. I say we visit the shopkeep, Faedryl. The men will contact Shuushar. He is likely to help us and not be duplicious. Something I cannot say for sure about the shopkeep.

Plus it is helpful to someone who knows what the heck their spells are doing. Well, at least my master decided I can heal wounds today.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

She hadn't expected her irritation to show, but it didn't really matter. "Your apology is accepted, but I'm still going to see Shuushar regardless - I've got my own reasons to see his 'master'. They won't interfere with this mad plan of assassination you've conjured, if that's a concern, but I do need to speak to him." She didn't really want to give away too much but if someone else was there the line of questioning would reveal it soon enough, assuming the Master didn't take the conversation private.

Faedryl lets a frown crease her forehead that Sarith was still, apparently asleep, and reaches out with her mind to lightly shove him in the arm from across the room. "Wake up Sarith, you're needed. Once you've had breakfast, go help Borthan with the shopping. Two pairs of eyes are better than one." She dusts herself off and stands. "Best we leave Jimjar to sleep in; if we take him with us he'll probably try to gamble away our lives, and at least this way we have someone 'watching' the rooms."




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

He'd been listening to the entire, boring, conversation, so when the shove comes he's already wide awake and needs no catchup, not that he wants to indicate that. His annoyance at being ordered, and his willingness to obey, was clear when he simply utters *"Fine,"* in response, like a disgruntled child being told they could not have a sweet treat. At least this way he was more likely to trade one of the soul coins for something to _his_ benefit, like a new crossbow.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

"C'mon, Sarith. Now we can go spend all the soul coins on weapons and candy while the girls talk to the fish. I'll snag Biggun. He can make sure the magic at least LOOKS powerful on anything we buy." Borthan ushers the drow manservant to follow him. He wonders wryly if he could command Sarith to carry all the bags, then smirks as he imagines issuing the command.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Mid Room*

Throughout the playful banter and day plans, Jimjar slumbers peacefully on the floor. Or maybe he's just a better faker than Sarith, who can say? Either way, he is left to 'watch' the inn for the party as they split up to see to their tasks.

There should at least be no worry of the _Black Manta_ leaving without them. Beyond the worry of becoming fugitives from yet another town. It intends to depart after the festival, and their quest (should they choose to accept it) is to hijack that very festival for Puck's questionably benevolent purposes. 

*Top Room*

At Derendil's verbal riposte, Ront grunts and opens his mouth to respond, then stops and closes it, chewing on his improvised toothpick and cracking the wood between his teeth. When he cannot come up with a witty retort, he just huffs out a puff of hot air and exits the room. He avoids looking down as he climbs into the rope ladder and descends into town, wherever it is he plans to go from there.

"Not bad," walking over to the opposite side of her brother, Topsy leans against the wall and peers over his seated position at Derendil. "The festival food plan sounds like a fine idea too. I've still got some personal spending money, what about you?"


Shortly into their discussion, they are interrupted by Borthan's arrival as he requests the 'Biggun' to aid him in appraising some magic items. "Go ahead, I'll pick you something up," Turvy offers the quaggoth prince in his usual reserved voice, managing a shy smile. "You can pay us back another time," his sister adds with a smirk, splitting up from Borthan's party at the base level of the inn.

*Marv's Mystical Masterpieces - Borthan, Sarith, Derendil*

At the doorstep of the mysterious shop, mucky mud transitions to black and white tile steps leading to the glass door. It is covered in old posters and papers in languages none of them recognize. Some are wanted posters of bizarre alien creatures, others likenesses of human musicians performing on stage, yet others look like advertisements for food. Through and between the translucent pages dim light shines from incense candles and oil lamps illuminating the interior. The door swings in, letting out a haze of perfume and herbal aromas.

The inside floor is wood, creaking as they step inside. Some exotic rugs decorate the floor in patterns as eclectic as the goods and curiosities on display. Objects and tomes of mysterious origins line wooden shelves and glass display cases. To the right of the door, nestled in a corner, is a tall black rectangle with a glass windowed door, which feels cold to the touch and contains rows of strange flasks and potions.

Behind a central counter of display cases, a smiling elf-like creature stands. His eyes are narrow, dark slits ringed by wrinkles that look incorrect on an elven face. His skin is pale like snow. Dressed up in a dark purple suit, and a black tie. His face splits into a too wide smile as the trio of customers step inside and with a smooth motion of his hand he plucks some pamphlets off of the counter, tossing them into the air.

Like leaves on the wind, they dance and twirl, somehow each finding its way to the open hand or under the foot of one of the three men. The pamphlet lists exchange rates, as well as services the shop offers.

*Spoiler: Marv's Mystical Pamphlet*
Show

Exchange Rates
All exchange rates are for the purposes of purchasing power, or for the purposes of exchanging your soul tokens for local currency. Marv's Mystical Masterpieces does not sell souls. Customers wishing to willingly exchange rights to their immortal soul for goods or services will continue to exercise use of their soul until such a time as they are dead for a duration of 10 days without being resurrected. At such a point in time, their soul will be claimed and extracted from its intended afterlife.
(Individuals wishing to resurrect an already claimed soul must pay a resurrection fee of 10 Soul Tokens; payable in equivalent converted local currency)

1 Soul Token = 5000 gold pieces
1 Willing Evil Soul = 10 Soul Tokens
1 Willing Neutral Soul = 25 Soul Tokens
1 Willing Good Soul = 50 Soul Tokens

Services

Marv's Warlock Sponsorship Package = 10 Soul Tokens
-A sponsorship with one of our partner companies will grant the customer one (1) sponsored Warlock Level. Those who have already formed a pact with another extraplanar entity may still select the sponsorship package; Marv's Mystical Masterpieces will cover costs to sever and annul their previous pact. Customer is guaranteed to suffer no repercussions from a scorned patron, or their money back (in local currency).

Cursed Item Removal Service = 1 Soul Token
-Your friendly salesman Marv will remove a cursed item of your choice from attunement.
Upgrade Package: Curse Removal = +9 Soul Tokens
-Marv will instead purge the cursed qualities from the item, allowing its safe use.

Resurrection = 10 Soul Tokens
-Your friendly salesman Marv will resurrect one individual who has died in a time frame not exceeding 10 days past. Dead body of individual required.
Upgrade Package: Impossible Resurrection = +40 Soul Tokens
-Chosen individual may have been dead for a time exceeding 10 days. The individual may be undead, and may have had its soul captured or destroyed. The individual need not be present.

Summon Marv's Mystical Masterpieces = One living planar Outsider, sacrificed in summoning circle detailed below (all resulting Soul Tokens will be claimed by your friendly salesman Marv)
-Rest assured, Marv's Mystical Masterpieces will do our best to be present in any major civilized location when required by customers. A customer wishing to shop from elsewhere may conjure a door to the establishment at their location, for convenient shopping on the go.

Marv's Mystical Membership Card = 10 Soul Tokens
-Member will receive a 10% discount on all products and services of Marv's Mystical Masterpieces. Excess value from a willingly offered soul of a member will be retained as Soul Token credit on their store account. Member may Summon Marv's Mystical Masterpieces once per month at no summoning cost.


The display cases and shelves list names and prices for each available item.

*Spoiler: Potion Cooler*
Show

POWERTHIRST = 5 Soul Tokens
(A shiny metallic can in a variety of flavors)

Giga Potion = 10 Soul Tokens
(A viking horn filled with a blood red liquid that smells of alcohol; warning label cautions not to drink more than one in a single mortal life)

Flask of Unliquor = 10 Soul Tokens
(A silver hip flask; warning label cautions not to drink more than one in a single mortal life)

Balm of Midas = 10 Soul Tokens
(A deep black balm inside of a clear disc-shaped container; warning label cautions not to drink more than one in a single mortal life)

Potion of Expanded Thought = 10 Soul Tokens
(A hollowed opal containing a clear liquid, the interior surface is swirling with steam; warning label cautions not to drink more than one in a single mortal life)

Tea of Revelation = 10 Soul Tokens
(An ancient rusty teapot with cracks and holes in it, containing a mercury-like silver liquid that somehow does not run out of the gaps; warning label cautions not to drink more than one in a single mortal life)

Potion of Floral Crown = 10 Soul Tokens
(Held in the hollowed fang of a wyvern, which is rimed with frost; warning label cautions not to drink more than one in a single mortal life)

Potion of Eusocial Valor = 10 Soul Tokens
(An oily purple liquid held in a transparent, giant wasp-like abdomen, the stinger repurposed into a drinking straw; warning label cautions not to drink more than one in a single mortal life)


*Spoiler: Bookshelf*
Show

Scrolls
Scroll of Dream Eater = 5 Soul Tokens
Scroll of Insidious Confidence = 5 Soul Tokens
Scroll of Lorem Ipsum's Cheat Death = 5 Soul Tokens
Scroll of Contingency = 3 Soul Tokens
Scroll of Permanency = 10 Soul Tokens

Books and Tomes
_Universal Translation Guide_, by Grazilaxx = 1 Soul Token
_The Skald's Journal_ = 10 Soul Tokens
_The Duelist's Notebook_ = 10 Soul Tokens
_The Book of Names_ = 10 Soul Tokens
_Thraxil axun Llithxe_ - Vol. 1 = 20 Soul Tokens
Lorem Ipsum's _Grimoire of Questionable Spells_ = 25 Soul Tokens
Elminster's _Daily Scroll Subscription Service_ = 50 Soul Tokens


*Spoiler: Weapon Rack*
Show

Trident of Riptide = 20 Soul Tokens
(A royal looking trident made out of coral and whalebone)

Blood Dagger = 20 Soul Tokens
(This drow-styled dagger is made out of black metal, with semi-organic veins running through its blade)

Scorn = 30 Soul Tokens
(A single, brutal hunk of metal hewn into the rough shape of a longsword and infused with a pearlescent mithril-like metal, this weapon is at once elegant and hideous. It is covered in the scars and marks of many battles)

The Crowbar = 20 Soul Tokens
(A crowbar with a red grip)

The 9-Barreled Shotgun = 70 Soul Tokens
(A firearm bearing nine barrels in a square pattern. The barrels are intricately carved, depicting the howling souls of the damned, demons and devils fighting one another, and innocents being torn apart in the crossfire. The fine wooden stock is stained with blood that never seems to wash off, and the trigger finger is slick with fresh red blood. The weapon glows dimly, as if the metal were glinting in unseen firelight)


*Spoiler: Mannequins*
Show

Robe of the Apprentice Magi = 10 Soul Tokens
(A simple green cloth robe with a brown shawl)

Fairweather T-5000 Breastplate = 20 Soul Tokens
(A strange breastplate made out of what appears to be white porcelain)

Personal Shield Generator = 20 Soul Tokens
(A shiny metal apparatus worn on the arm or belt)

Horrid Necktie = 10 Soul Tokens
(A tasteless necktie in a garish splatter of uncoordinated colors)

Monster Tooth Necklace = 20 Soul Tokens
(This necklace is made out teeth from a variety of exotic monsters)

Mask of El Excavador = 50 Soul Tokens
(This stretchy cloth mask is a deep blue, with a jagged band of red around the head at eye level, and a ring of yellow encircling each eye hole. It bears one hole for each eye, as well as a hole for the nose and the mouth)

Teeth of Saint Thomas = 25 Soul Tokens
(A necklace of sixteen human teeth)

Padlock of Transference = 20 Soul Tokens
(This green, corroded copper padlock is attached to a steel chain, wrapped around the mannequin's midsection like a bandolier)


*Spoiler: Curio Case*
Show

Tough Times = 15 Soul Tokens
(A worn out teddy bear with stuffing coming loose in places. A folded note is held in the bears tiny hands: Dont forget, hon. Im coming home soon. Stay strong. The bear refuses to let go of the note. Please dont take it away)

The All or Nothing Coin = 25 Soul Tokens
(A bronze coin with a glyph of a trophy on one side, and nothing on the other)

The Elucidation Die = 15 Soul Tokens
(This small six-sided die is made out of iridescent jade. Symbols adorn each side: Lips, Eye, Crosshairs, Ear, Hand, and Nothing)

The Skeleton Key = 20 Soul Tokens
(A key made out of charred bone)

The King's Tablecloth = 20 Soul Tokens
(A white silk tablecloth)

Black Nail of Judgement = 75 Soul Tokens
(This ancient, black carpenters nail produces an aura of unease)


*The Beach Hut - Faedryl, Nilvae, Eyegore, Mr. Spide*

Not long after stepping beyond the walls, the trio are rejoined by a creeping set of eight legs appearing as if from nowhere. Faedryl can now see a tophat and monocle floating on and in front of the spider's face, as if they were drawn upon reality by a set of colored sketching pencils. Raising a leg to tip the hat, the spider dips his head towards Faedryl and speaks, "Mr. Spide. Pleased to properly make your acquaintance at last."


A short walk from the town gates, they find Shuushar and his master sitting on the dock next to their hut, talking. Shuushar is facing inland and notices as they approach, standing and greeting them with an uncertain wave. The two kuo-toa walk to meet them where the wooden dock meets the drab Underdark sand.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl doesn't exactly have the best relationship with spiders anymore, but she at least manages a polite, noncommittal "Charmed," to Mr. Spide. She still finds the entire thing bizarre, but beggars cannot be choosers, and she is certainly a beggar in a number of ways.

When they arrive at Shuushar's, with the requested provisions, she nudges Nilvae forwards. Assassinating the high priestess was her idea after all; the Society talk could wait. Best to get them started on the right foot: Trying to murder a religious leader. 




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith glances down at the pamphlet's prices with a weary feeling, noting that most of the items on offer were distinctly outside of the meager amount of soul coins they had procured, and that unless they had a number of willing good souls to trade away into hellish servitude they were unlikely to purchase anything of real note, which was a shame. He didn't know what, exactly, this "Shotgun" with 9 barrels was or how it worked, but he nevertheless decided that he wanted it. Stealing from a place like this was likely not simple however, even for one of his immense skill. His recent tumblings on the beach had a least humbled him somewhat in that regard.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -


*At Marv's:*
Nilvae decides to leave the shopping crew in the "care" of Eyegore, even if to simply show Marvin that Puck sent them. The tiny fey offers the company card over. It rummages in the potion cooler. What kind of potion seller has nothing with EYES in it? What does this crap do anyways?

*At Shuushar's:*
Nilvae giggles as Mr Spide tries to engage in polite conversation with Faedryl but is shut down by single word answers by the Drow mage every time. Excuse him, Faedryl. He just recently got his ability to speak back. He was once a proper person. I don't even wanna know what happened. I assume he did eat something fey. Never eat anything fey. Nilvae pauses. Damn, I should have told the other guys not to eat or drink anything from Marv.

As they arrive at Shuushar's house once more, Nilvae expects the drow to open with a very dry and direct conversation, but that fell onto her this time. Uncomfortably she shuffles forward. Shuushar? Mister Shuushar's master? I have come for questions. Regarding your faith. We have noticed the deity in this town has recently changed. What do you know about this? Because this feels very bizarre, and I have some information that makes me think the demons will not attack but devour your society if we do not stop this. Nilvae tries to smile but quickly ready the - well lake shore and takes things a bit more seriously. There will be a feast celebrating the rise of a new deity and the instigation of its new high priestess. And I wonder. What happened to the old faith? What did you believe in just weeks ago? What the hell is happening here? Towards the end, the half-elf gets increasingly louder and angrier, but manages to calm herself. I do not know your master, Shuushar, but I know and trust you. So tell me please: Is this place serving demons?

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan looked eagerly around at the various magic items, not bothering to read the pamphlet at first, but his excited smile rapidly turned into a distinct frown. "Godsdamn, I thought we had a lot of these darn soul coins, and now we can't afford jack!" He slams a fist on the counter and turns angrily to the smiling shop keep. "What's the deal here, man? We slayed... slew... slaw... we killed a ton of demons and we barely have enough for tea! These prices are outrageous!"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil, ignoring Borthan's outburst, looks over the pamphlet in his hands, eyes going wide and hair going on end. He had his doubts about a place that would accept such coins, but his worst fears were reinforced almost immediately by the fact that someone could sell their soul for these coins. He put a clawed hand on Borthan's shoulder and squeezed. "Don't mind my friend, shopkeep. He's not used to civilized discourse." The quaggoth wizard leaned into Sarith and Borthan and whispers "We should leave. NOW."

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith blinks once, then twice. Confused. What was the urgency? Was this some sort of non-drow social faux pas? Did he care? Not really. Since they couldn't buy the shotgun that enticed him so he didn't really see much of a need to stick around. _His_ interest had been concluded, so he wasn't going to make a point of staying around if the others wanted to leave. Maybe they'd be able to afford things next time. Or maybe they'd toss the coins off a bridge. He didn't really care. Still not really understanding why Derendil wanted to leave, he nevertheless agrees. *"Very well."*

----------


## RandomWombat

*Marv's Mystical Masterpieces - Borthan, Sarith, Derendil, Eyegore*

Slipping around the counter, Marv puts a genial arm around Borthan's shoulders and pulls him away from Derendil. "Come on Jack, don't be like that. It's a little expensive but no need to be pensive, our quality is the best! Besides. We're the capitol of capital and I have to say, we'd be awful remiss to dismiss a customer so displeased. So just for you: a proof, a test! Anything you like come give 'er a whirl," reaching out, he opens a side door and reveals a vast room. A firing range where a long desk separates an area just inside the door from a long corridor lined with stationary and moving targets. To their left is another side room visible through a glass partition with training dummies set up.

"If you like it, I can offer a special deal to ease your coffers. I'm not kiddin' ye, I'll trade ya for a kidney!" he leans in and playfully jabs a finger into Borthan's side. "You've got two, no need to be shrewd, only a one's all you need. Indeed, one little kidney and you'll receive fifty percent off your first purchase! And of course don't forget, your _annoying little gnat who keeps unsorting my product_," his voice briefly darkens as he glances back in Eyegore's direction with a look of disgust, "Has a membership card!" Just as quickly, the dip in his mood is gone and Marv is all smiles again. "Ten plus fifty - that makes sixty - less than half the price! Can't beat that now can you Jack, so whaddaya say?" With a pat on the back, he snaps his fingers and the weapons from in the store teleport into the firing range and training area, arranged on the desk and on weapon racks for testing them out.


"Chemical enhancements!" a second Marv emerges from behind the potion cooler, answering Eyegore and using an arm to wave over the selection, "More permanent than enchantments, last your whole life or our money back guarantee (in local currency)." Tapping his foot, he sweeps past each of them in turn.

First he motions to the cans of POWERTHIRST. "These here aren't your average beer, see just one sip gives you all the zip you need, guaranteed, three days straight your pillow'll be a widow. Now in terms of permanent these ones aren't, so take home a few, a dozen, you want more time - who doesn't? Sleeping's great but you'd hate to be late when you've got important stuff to do!"

"This one makes you strong like a bomb," he indicates the Giga Potion, then moves down to the Unliquor, "But if your game's not brawn, here's your pick lickety split, to be a real slick trick deckin' sonuva-" switching over mid-sentence to censor what follows, he indicates the Midas Balm. "brick of gold, that's what you'll behold, just lather it on and watch it dawn. With real metal action!" he karate chops his arm, leaving a dent in it, then hammers the dent back out.

Moving on to the next shelf he continues, motioning to the potion of Expand Thought and Tea of Revelation in turn, "These are good for the mind, whatever the kind. You can be the guy holding answers high, or maybe questions are more your attention? Either way give 'em a chug, curl up that smooth little cranium slug," his grin stretches wider, the toothy mouth becoming momentarily too large for Marv's face as he taps a finger on Eyegore's head.

"This one makes you pretty," he holds up the potion of Floral Crown. "I know it's kind of shallow, but you're quite an ugly fellow, so maybe it'll help with the ladies! And right below, this'll give you a formian glow," he bends down to put the potion back and point to the potion of Eusocial Valor next to it. "You like eyes, try a hundred! World looks a lot different if you ever wondered, so give it a gander, give it a sip, but _don't forget to pay for it_!" The salesman adds, his voice dimming for only a moment.

*The Beach Hut - Faedryl, Nilvae, Mr. Spide*

"And what is a 'proper' person?" Mr. Spide asks in a drawl that makes it hard to tell whether he is actually offender or merely being sardonic out of habit. "I'll have you know, spider I once and always have been."


Mr. Shuushar's Master chuckles and bows his head, introducing himself. His dialect is a little less sloshy and grating than that of other kuo-toa, but he cannot fully escape the natural lisp of his mouth when speaking the common tongues. *"I am Sloopidoop. Sloop will do jusht fine, mn."*

"De chandge in leadership id new, bud not unusual," Shuushar answers as Nilvae shares her questions and concerns, pausing as he tries to find the best way to explain it. "Usually, only da priesdt or priestdess changes wid Blibdoolpoolp staying de goddess but da teashings change, bud sometimes a new god is worshiped or made up. Never lasdt very long."

*"The timing of thish new god wash troubling for me, myself and colleagues are aware of and shtudying several demon lords arriving in the Underdark, and the caush,"* turning to face the Darklake, Sloop folds his hands behind his back and stares out at the waters with a troubled expression. *"The old priesht is kept alive for now but under house arrest, because he is the prieshtesh' father. Ushually he would have been killed to cement the new rule."*

"We - my peoble bloo not normally worship demons," shaking his head emphatically, Shuushar raises his hands.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"And everyone is fine with these changes? It has widespread support?" Faedryl asks. Undermining or killing someone unpopular tended to be simpler than one who enjoyed the love of their flock. "I admit a knowledge gap here - why is she your leader if she's then going to uproot your core religion and replace it with, well, demons?" It didn't make sense to her. If a Matron Mother attempted to supplant Lolth with another goddess, they'd be eaten, flayed, killed, then resurrected to do it all again. Why would the Kua-Toa accept such a change? It seems to Faedryl they worship less a god and more whomever is the priest(ess) of the day.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

"My kidney? That's a laugh." Borthan chuckles, then when the offer continues his brow knits in concern. "Wait, you're serious? Hells no, I'm not selling my godsdamn kidney for some magical super junk! What if some enemy gets a lucky shot and takes one out! I need a back up if I'm going to be able to drink mushroom hooch! Biggun' is right, let's get out of here!" Borthan made it halfway to the door with Derendil's clawed hand on his shoulder before turning around. "But I'll be back! I'm gonna kill a million demons, come back here and buy your whole shop! And have enough left over to pay you to sell all the stuff at a REASONABLE mark-up!"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil rolls his eyes at Borthan's claim and more firmly steers him towards the door. "Thank you, I'm sure when we secure more soul coins we'll be back to browse again!"

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -


*At Marv's:*
Figured. Picking the two most boring people on the team to go fey shopping. By Puck's checkered underwear. Eyegore flaps towards the merchant and is met with a hostile glare. I must excuse ourselves for being so damn borish. Those two wouldn't know options if they kicked them in the face. The dark sees himself pulling a flask from the shelf, but a golden thread around the creature's neckt tightens. It strangles the disgusting gremlin and makes its own eyes almost pop out. Eyegore sighs and submits to the will of the golden leash. 

*At Shuushar's:*
I mean they are aquatic creatures. Sometimes you have to accept the current when you are unable to fight it. But if her father lives, she might simply be unable to kill him, out of sentimental reasons, or due to something more arcane. Maybe the demons require a sacrifice of her own flesh to seal their pact. Say, Shloop, do you know where he is kept? Turning to Faedryl, Nilvae interjects before the drow can protest. Hells yes, this means I want to try and save him.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Marv's Mystical Masterpieces - Borthan, Sarith, Derendil, Eyegore*

The friendly salesman makes no further moves to prevent them from leaving, each of them offering a polite bow. There is a glint in his eye as Eyegore considers shoplifting, but Puck's leash puts an end to that foolish notion.

Soon their group steps back out of the ominous shop and into the bustling, fish-smelling streets of Sloobludop. With no other pressing tasks until the others return, they are left to their own devices.

*The Beach Hut - Faedryl, Nilvae, Mr. Spide*

Sloop smiles knowingly at Faedryl's befuddlement. *"Ish really bisharre, ish it not? But have you ever wondered, why our people are sho feared yet have not shimply dreamed up a god to be, shay, 'god of killing all drow' and repeaded the prochesh for all of their enemiess?"* Raising his arms, he places webbed fingers on either side of his temples. *"They have incredible zeal, but it ish ash shcattered ash their unfocused mindss. They will find someshing fashionating, and begin to worship it like a god, forgetting their previouss obshession. If it findsh a big enough following, a revolution followsh as beliefss clash."*

"Ib dey came across dis demon lord, peoble would bu-be so awed dey would follow de imagination of whoever is most charismadic abubout whad it is or whad it means." Folding his hands. Shuush closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Masder and I have learned to calm our racing thoudts bloo meditation, and tame de madness for clarity. We wish do teach odders of our kind how to harness deir minds so dat dis vicious cycle can end."

*"Wiss no madnesh behind it, our belief can shtill manifesht sheudo-divine magic or fuel shionicsh. But we can no longer dream up true godsh any more than you could wiss a cult following,"* the elder toa adds. He faces Nilvae to answer her own questions, running a pair of fingers along the catfish like whiskers on his face. *"Mmb. I think it wash familiar shentiment that shtayed her hand. I could be wrong. Alash, I do not know where he ish being held. I have been exiled for trying to shpread our heretical clarity, few will shpeak to me and I am not permitted to enter."*

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"Of course you do." Faedry says wearily to Nilvae, dismissing the (in her opinion) misplaced heroism with a wave of the hand. "So if the Kua-Toa follow whatever new belief crosses their path, this demon-worship may be replaced. Perhaps, say, by a fey lord who wants a pack of fanatical worshippers all to themself?" She didn't particularly want to grant any fey an additional powerbase, but they were - at least in this very specific situation - probably better than demons. Probably. It seemed to her to be the only reason Nilvae's patron would deign to bother with this entire thing in the first place. Always looking out for number one.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

The drow hardly considers the air of the kua-toa village 'clean' but at least it wasn't the cloying air of a pushy salesman. *"Well, that was fruitless."* He drawls, his tone flat. Absent of criticism, absent of judgement, because he couldn't find itself in him to care. But now he was stuck with nothing else to do, their one activity for the 'day' squandered. *"What now? Kill that slaver captain? Scout the Priestess woman?"* He didn't care. He just didn't want to stand still and dither.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

"Let's head back and meet up with the others before we go knockin' anyone off or preparing for an assassination." Borthan waves for the others to follow, then starts towards the beach and the fishy allies.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

You have not understood fey, have you? Well, you are in good company, I have neither. But I doubt my master is even interested in these people but entertainment. Still, the possibility is there, but if the source of my powers increases, so do mine. Is that not a goal worth pursuing? Plus, we do weaken the demonic threat in our wake. I don't know how you feel about being pulled underwater by two dozen manta ray demon clerics, but I don't fancy a wet grave on our traversal of the Darklake. Nilvae's voice is devoid of fun, almost fearful. As my master put it. We do this or we meet an early demise.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Nilvae was still assuming that the fey lord, someone who was by nature a trickster, was telling her the truth. This seemed rather silly to Faedryl, but arguing about that seemed sillier still. Neither of them had any evidence one way or the other, and so it would entirely come down to how they felt - while that argument might be enlightening in its own way, it also promised to take time that she did not wish to spend. In short, she moves on.

"Do you know anything about the Priestess' schedule? Her comings and goings? If we're going to remove her, ideally it would be when she was most vulnerable - unarmed, unarmoured, unguarded."  It seemed unlikely there would be such a time, but she had to ask.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

The idea of a fey lord having a hand in these dealings causes Shuushar to frown, but Sloop remains thoughtful. *"Hishtorically, the fey are no friendsh to demonkind. What did dish fey lord ashk of you, young lady, preshishely?"* he inquires, motioning them to follow him inside of his humble abode. The interior of the hut is little more than some loose rugs laid out over the bare sand, surrounded by crude wooden walls and a ceiling made out of layers of dried seaweed laid over stretched eelskin leather. Storage consists of wooden footlockers, and the beds are little more than ratty pillows upon the rugs. The sand, at least, is soft beneath the covering.

"You aren'dt combsidering going along width dis, Master?" stepping in behind the older toa, Shuush takes a seat next to what is presumably his sleeping spot. "We wanded to free our people, nod lenbd them to anoblber tyrandt."

*"I am only ashking, Shuushar. Be calm,"* the master takes a seat as well, laying his hands in his lap. *"Awakening will take time. Right now, our people fashe danger from thiss demon threat. As it shtands, we can do little for our people from the ssidelinesh, no?"* The reasoning seems to sway Shuushar from his opposition, and he settles down to listen.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

My command was to remove the priestess, pose as her using this potion. she holds aloft the magical concoction. to teach the people that humanoid sacrifices are not the way forward. I have to convince them the Deep Father is a good aligned deity, and your common faith will transform this new deity. Nilvae scratches her chin as if wearing an invisible goatee. I have never heard of collective faith altering reality. I know sorcerers and mages and priests using the Weave, I know of my kind altering the world with borrowed power. But never have I heard of the common folk altering a god.

As a side note, my master never said to kill the priestess.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"He didn't need to say it." Faedryl notes. "Unless you want to keep her locked up in a jail forever - she wouldn't be allowed to return, after all, or she'd undo the work. And since we don't have anywhere to keep a kua-toa priestess fed and watered in perpetuity..." She shrugs. Death was the only realistic answer.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae giggles. You act like I am not aligned with a fey lord, Faedryl. There are other fates in store with them, and some are quite fun, even if it is usually a somewhat chaotic sense of it.

Think, Lady Melad. You deal with demons, magic and treachery. I deal with chaos and natural forces. Truth be told, my master rescued me from an arranged marriage. My fianceé vanished into the fey realm, but I am pretty sure he is not dead. I command a Lolth-sworn spider that wanted out. Nilvae sideeyes Mr Spide. Okay, not command, but I am allied to one. There are other fates for her. Maybe she is turned into a guppy and kept in a crystal fish bowl. Maybe her memory is wiped and she is released again. The half-elf notices some of the fates are actually worse. She sighs. I might concede some of these fates may be worse than death. BUT: I am not sure ending up in the Abyss is better than some non infinite time in the fey realm.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"That's a lot of 'maybe'." Faedryl bristles. "Try to remember that it's not just you who's on the hook, you've dragged others into this ridiculous 'plan', if it could even be called that. Take that seriously." She was, of course, primarily talking about herself - but if others were lost on this fey-venture, it would make their underdark escape that much harder.  "Maybe the fey will contain them for you. Or maybe they'll decide it's funnier if they don't and watch us scrabble as your 'plan' falls apart. What a funny jape! What a lark!" She throws up her hands in frustration. It seems to her that Nilvae is practically allergic to anything other than barreling forwards and simply hoping it all worked out.

She gives up, and turns back to the kua-toa. "Anything else useful you can tell us? Maps, numbers of guards, patrol patterns, _anything_ that would help us gain access to carry this out?"

----------


## RandomWombat

> "I command a L-.


"-oogh-owahn iagder-" as she tries to speak the forbidden name, Nilvae suddenly feels a little lighter, and an absence renders her words a mess of clumsy oo-ing syllables. The inside of her mouth hangs a hollow cavity now, her tongue suddenly vanished. A muted clicking laugh comes from Mr. Spide as he watches her fumble with her suddenly awkward mouth.

The fishmen look up in surprise, and Sloop stands up, reciting a small incantation and passing his hand over his eyes, which glow a dim blue after his hand passes. He examines Nilvae, peering at the stub of her missing tongue. *"Ah, some short of cursh. Transhmutation it sheemsh."* He glances over at Faedryl. *"She sherves a fey lord? Perhapsh it ish a prank...?"*

"A lark alrighd," Shuushar murmurs. "No goobd combls of surrendering condrol to higher blpowers."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

She'd like to be smug, she'd like to laugh, or mock, or simply enjoy the pleasure of an 'I told you so' but - ever practical - a tongueless Nilvae posed a problem. She stands and gives the half-elf an examination of her own. "I've been doing research on curse-breaking but I fear it's still early days, I don't have the capacity to break whatever this is yet, and likely won't for some time." There's a slightly bitter edge to her words, directed at herself. Not that her conditions were ideal for arcane study, exactly, but perhaps if she'd focused her efforts elsewhere she'd have it on hand. She thought she'd have time, since it was the Soul Coins she was focused on and they weren't going anywhere, but if Nilvae's patron was acting up then maybe she needed to accelerate the process.

"Is there anything you can do?" She asks Shuushar's master. "I..._we'd_ rather not wait for it to fix itself naturally, if it could be helped." She doesn't disagree with Shuushar's assessment, but neither does she express agreement - rubbing salt into Nilvae's tongueless wounds wouldn't help.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae is exasperated and silenced. Her shock drops after a minute or two of amused, then concerned Faedryl. She shakes her head violently, asking for some form to write on. She scratches some words onto the trampled ground, some wax tablet or another form of writing. Do not worry. Puck is not that shortsighted. She pauses and shakes her head in disbelief. I hope. she adds and sighs.

----------


## RandomWombat

"This is sdill beblond me as well," Shuushar admits, with a sigh. He leans over to glance at what Nilvae writes into the sandy ground.

*"It would be rather foolish to have an infiltrator with no tongue,"* the master fish points out in agreement with Nilvae. *"Shimply wait out the fey lord'sh dishpleasure, I exshpect would be best. Trying to subvert shuch a prank would only anger him more... now,"* finally addressing Faedryl's question, he turns and peers at the back wall of the hut - or more likely at something beyond it. *"The new leader ish shtill young, of age and regime. Cementing her power. If she heard that the old shtatue of Blibdoolpoolp wash repaired and being worshiped by a counter-cult, she would go pershonally to correct it. But thiss would be done under guard, not alone."*

When it comes to assassination and kidnapping, Shuushar does not seem to have any suggestions. Whether tacit disapproval or lack of knowledge on the subject is unclear; the answer is likely both.


As they discuss within, Borthan leads the others out onto the beach. The door to the fish hut is ajar, and voices can be heard from within.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Oh snap. I can feel her irritation and confusion. Something happened. Eyegore focusses its mind on the mental state of its master and quickly snaps back. They are already discussing the details. So far we have little to go on. As they enter the hut, Eyegore perches onto an elevated position. I thought you are a priest, Shuushar? With all your healing, and your nonviolence donkey crap. Not murdering those who murder you is some dumb crap only someone serving a god could come up with. Eyegore smiles. It was so easy to antagonize a pacifist. What are they gonna do? Hit you?

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl exhales long and slow out of her nose. It was one thing after another. "Nilvae," In its own way, speaking through the tongueless Nilvae was an 'attack' on Eyegore all on its own. She wouldn't even speak to it directly. "Please discipline your pet and have them apologise for their words. We are guests. That conduct is not appropriate." If nothing else her journey had taught her some measure of self-restraint. Had any tiny weakling like this spoken as such in her presence while she was still a Melad, she'd have responded with magic missiles as her conversation starter and escalated from there.

----------


## RandomWombat

Regarding Eyegore with a brief flicker of annoyance that tests his calm, Shuushar shakes his head. "I amb no priesd, _imp_," he shoots back.

*"Try not to let it get under your shkales,"* his Master consoles. *"Remember, all are able to rishe."*

"I amb no longer so certain," the younger toa murmurs, rubbing a webbed hand over his forehead. Eventually he speaks again to offer an idea of his own, "You blball are planning on leaving, yes?" looking up at Nilvae and Faedryl, he hesitates before suggesting, "You could put a sleebping potion in de priestess' food or drink de nighdt before de festival, then smuggle her oudt when you leave. Maybe away from abll dis, she could also learn a bedter way to live."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

And have her live like you? A fate truly worse than de... Eyegore is silenced as Nilvae yanks on a spectral chain choking the small "imp". The elven warlock shakes her head and shrugs in an excusing manner. Mistress over there says our plan is concluded. Can you provide the drink? the dark fey says and extends his little disgusting grabby hands.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan entered into the hut, ducking to get inside, a grin on his face. "I think I have more experience hauling bodies than anybody here, so let me lend my expertise- a K.O.-ed body is much easier to haul than a kicking, struggling, screaming one, and leaves less of a mess than a bleeding corpse. I say Shuushar has a decent plan, though I hate to burst your bubble when I tell you that I highly doubt that our party is gonna haul some Toa Priestess halfway across the 'Dark to live a peaceful life on some distant shore. But who knows? Weirder things have happened." He looks to Nilvae, who has been oddly silent, and leans in to whisper "Why so quiet?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil nods along to Borthan's point, though he looks a little disgusted at the idea of executing the priestess in cold blood. True, him and his companions had done dark deeds down here in the name of necessity, but that didn't mean the elvish prince had to enjoy it. "Regardless of the priestess' final fate, it seems we have a good plan on how to stop her from conducting the ritualistic sacrifices and summoning some deep spawn demon. Well done, all of you."

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

She still honestly thinks the entire plan is an extended suicide mission by way of Kua-Toa spears, but at least drugging the priestess promised a less bloody body to move, though it would complicate matters afterwards - how the others thought they'd carry her aboard the slaver ship without it causing a problem, she wasn't sure, but she was tired of arguing, and wanted it to be done. Hopefully their magics would be enough to see the deed successful. "We still have a few doses of drow poison which can knock out, though something specialised might be better, and then supplement it with the drow poison as needed to keep her down."

----------


## RandomWombat

Sharing a glance at Derendil and a face that conveys much the same, Shuushar sighs again. For as much as he is loathe to assist in a likely drugging and murder, the future of this place and its people hangs in the balance. "I do not habe a sleeping potion, no. Dere is an abpothecary in Sloobludop named Gebelboole, she may habe whad you need. Youb can find her on de far side of town."

*"If you deshide to confront her at the shtatue, I may be able to help,"* Sloop offers, rubbing his neck. *"Like my apprentish, I prefer non-violensh. But there comesh a time when action musht be taken to prevent tragedy. Unfortunately, there ish not much help I can offer inshide of town ssave for directionsh."*


The elder toa describes of them some of the inner parts of Sloobludop, drawing a crude map in the sand. At the north center of the town is a statue dedicated to the Deep Father where offerings are placed by the citizens; ixitx have been collecting the offerings, supposedly being envoys of the new god. The statue sits next to a throne where the priestess normally presides when she is holding audience to visitors. Just off of shore is a circular stone platform where live sacrifices are killed.

Nearby the inn is the home of the former archpriest of the Sea Mother, the new priestess' father. He is being held there on the ground floor under house arrest, while the priestess has laid claim to the upper floors of the spire.

At the south center of town is the building where prisoners are held to use as sacrifices. Sloop saw a party of warriors lead a group of rugged looking humans into town in chains, who he suspects are to be the sacrifices. Kuo-toan slaves are used as offerings only when no criminal option is available.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl doesn't think a whole lot of humans, but if they were uprooting the town maybe they should go the whole way and add another batch of 'escaped' slaves to their party. _"A few more groups like that, and I'd have an army."_ A silly thought, a joking thought, with perhaps a nugget of truth.

"Perhaps a two-pronged attempt then - some of us go to free the prisoners and arm them to cause a riot in town, the rest use the distraction to slip in to free the former-priest and drug the daughter." She didn't see an adequate exit plan for such a strategy other than stealing the slaver's boat, but that would save them money and was a plan in the long run anyway.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Freeing slaves from inevitable death and sacrifice? I can get behind that. Dibs on that mission for me. He grins and runs his fingers along the hilt of one of his blades, eager for a fight after so much time lazing around a nice safe town of demon cultist fish.

----------


## RandomWombat

Offering a hesitant smile, Shuushar nods to Borthan. "Ib you can gedt them oud of Sloobludop, I would habbily help dem find sheldter somewhere until id is safe." His Master agrees with a genial nod.

*"It sheemsh you have the beginningsh of a plan. If there ish anything we can do to help, feel free to ashk."*

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl hesitates before leaving. "I do have something private to discuss with the Master here, if the rest of you want to source the sleeping drought and scout the prison. I won't be long."

Once she's left alone with the Kua-Toa, she considers asking for Shuushar to leave as well, but decides that's not her position to take - perhaps he too was part of it anyway. She exhales lightly through her nose before beginning. "Last night I dreamwalked and met Grazilaxx." She pauses, to let the words settle, before continuing. "We talked, and I would like to know more about your group."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 20/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae shoots Borthan a vile look, but before she can even try to think about a way to explain her predicament, her "obedient" imp shouts: Master took her tongue for saying out the drow demon bitches' name. Nilvae does not even jank his chain anymore as he needs his mouth for communication now. And now she is thinking about doing evil things to me. Oh the horror! Eyegore lays down on the table he has been perched on, with one claw on his forehead, mocking the half-elf.

Having half a brain communicating his master's plan, the small fey adds the details. Yea, obviously this idiot here has to be on Team Sleep-with-the-fishies. I would love for the ugly mushroom not to spook the slaves either. His telepathy can make communication silent. I can keep a check on the slave group. Helps cross communication. Maybe the two drow be on slave duty? Do you know your own sign language?




*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool has arrived at a convenient time to just listen into the song that they call a plan. Stool can help everywhere. Just make Stool help good! Stool can stop fish man with spores. But can explain to prisoners minds we come in peace too!

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith had been content to listen  and say nothing, as was his habit. Let them squabble over plans while he focused on more important things: Not squabbling over plans. Now he was being involved, which was incredibly annoying. *"I'm fluent. I doubt Faedryl is."* She was a pampered noble daughter. Why would she have been taught military sign language? And with her illusion skills she could conjure up words from thin air anyway, if needs be. No good if her arms were tied, mind you, but mages often seemed to neglect the physical. No surprise there.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan, oblivious to Nilvae's acidic glare, sees the practicality of bringing a group to do the scouting. While he had a practical mind for combat, he left much to be desired when it came to arcane or mechanical problems, both of which might be necessary to free the slaves. "I never picked up sign language. The dueregar always said it was useless finger waggling. Still, I'm not a gray dwarf, and I recognize that it could be real useful. Stool too, to help with any language barriers. I don't know how big a group is going to be able to scout close to the prisoners, but I'll take all the help I can get. C'mon then, ya'll, daylights burnin... well, not literally, but you get the idea...




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil, unsure of where his talents would best be suited, says "Finding a sleeping draught may be more in our wheelhouse, Faedryl. I'll wait outside until you are done discussing your... private business... and then we'll be off, if you find that agreeable."

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

The others filing out as they discuss their scouting expeditions, Faedryl is left with the two fish. Though when she requests a private conversation with the Master, Shuushar politely bows to the two of them and steps outside as well. The acoustics of the ramshackle building are hardly the most private, but the spirit of privacy is there.

A look of surprise followed by a soft smile light up the kuo-toa's face at the mention of Grazilaxx. *"Did you now? And you did not run away shkreaming?"* he asks, rhetorically, with a bit of levity. *"He ish not the most shocial fellow, but for hish kind I shupposhe he ish."*

Reaching down, Sloop pulls his robe taught to better display the symbol on his chest. The familiar crest is of an eye at the center, with various bits attached to it. What appear to be wings or whiskers, a head that could be interpreted as reptilian or piscine at different angles, and what may be tusks or horns. *"The Soshiety of Brilliansh wash founded to give a voish to thoshe who wish to improve life down here through shtudy and innovation. Right now I am shtudying the propertiesh of kuo-toa faith and 'madnesh'."* Progress upon which has surely been hampered by his banishment from their walls.

*Just Outside*

Stepping out near the small pier made for their fishing boat, Shuushar takes a seat in the sand and looks back up at Derendil. "Howb does your control fare, Derendil?" the healer questions, recalling the quaggoth's struggle with moments of lost control and rage.

*The Slave Pens*

Traversing the southern edge of town, along the edge of the murky pond, Borthan and Sarith near the slave pens. A cluster of buildings, several stories tall mounds as is kuo-toa style. To their right, small streams of water flow from cheese holes in the wall and into the pond, from which small stream troughs have been carved to drain into the Darklake; nothing alone so large as to demand a bridge, or anything more than a larger than usual step.

They can see already some guards posted, shuffling around the exterior. The guards they can see are not armored beyond their natural scale, carrying spears with heads of shell and coral, and wooden shields smeared with a sticky substance to catch weapons against them.

Sneaking inside without a distraction seems difficult, but the guards are not exactly chasing them off. This is some sort of business after all, and drow are also known to trade in slaves.

*Home and Prison*

Nilvae, her menagerie, and Stool set to investigating the change in leadership. The former archpriest's home is just across the alley from the inn. One certainly could not tell from the exterior that a toa of high status lived here, being of the same rough and ill-coordinated construction as the rest of the settlement. The only signs of import or affluence are some talismans mounted above the door, made from bone, stretched leather, and sea shells. 

Though not technically guarded, anyone entering or exiting the building will be in plain view of the festival-goers all around. Such a visit would not escape murmuring lips, or watchful eyes.

Further down the street will be the shrine, should they desire to question the high priestess (or more likely an assistant) first.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"The book he was reading - _Thraxil axun Llithxe_ - I had read it before, or something similar. Interest beat out fight or flight." She doesn't sound proud of that. It was, admittedly, a pretty stupid move, but she'd also been dreaming so she gives herself a pass. "I...tried something similar, with the drow. Tried for change. It didn't work but...I might want to try again." Not might. She did. She hadn't given up, not really. "How does the Society function day-to-day? How does one join?"




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

*"Pose as buyers, walk right in, fight our way out."* Sarith suggests quietly to Borthan. Easier still if they came with weapons and armour to outfit "their" slaves. Perhaps they'd been too hasty in selling off their haul, but that was Faedryl's folly, not his.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

*Slave Pens* 

"Sounds like a plan. We might need a face to pull it off, though. I won't be able to hide my anger very well, you talk so little I don't know if you can lie for a damn. Someone who can run a con to get us in, then we break the locks, disperse the weapons, and start a godsdamn riot." Borthan's face split into a bloodthirsty grin, hands resting on his weapons lightly again, shaking slightly from the effort of not launching the assault right now.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

The fish elder chuckles and hums to himself. *"Admirable curioshidy. Anshwerss are rare and valuable."* Sobered a little by the mention of her successes (or lack thereof) among her own people, he nods in familiar understanding. *"I am shure you shee I know the feeling."*

Pushing up from his seated position, Sloop reaches up with his arms outstretched, then brings them down in a wide circle until they are cupped below the eye upon his robes. The eye glimmers with a tiny spark of white light that floats out between his opposed thumbs. *"If one would wish to join, they musht resheeve nominashuns from at leasht three membersh, and fashe no opposishun from any one member."* The glimmer of light takes the form of a tiny white pearl and settles in his hands, which he offers to her. *"Thish ish a mark of nominashun."*

Bringing his hands back together in front of him he explains a little more about their day-to-day - and the benefits of joining. *"The Soshiety operatesh on a soft conshenshush. To announce 'offishul' group ackshun, we require at leasht shupport from three membersh, and none opposhed. However, we often help eash other whenever we can. We share and help craft magic itemsh, collaborate on researsh, and can ushe our robesh to shend a call for help at three levelsh - cashual, urgent, emergenshy. All other membersh will reshieve the call and thoshe nearby will typically come and try to help if able."*

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl takes the pearl into her hand, feeling its weight, before carefully stowing it away. She still wasn't entirely convinced by all of it, and perhaps it would prove more trouble than it was worth but she needed all the friends should could get, and turning away an opportunity for those likeminded seemed folly. "Thank you. I will give it some thought and, perhaps, seek out others to earn their nominations in turn." She tips her head into a bow. That would do, for now. There wasn't anything more to be said, but there was plenty more to be done. 

Her business concluded, she exits to follow up with Derendil and Nilvae. "I'm done. Sleeping draught next?" She asks, gesturing for them to take the lead.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

*"Drow soldiers are trained in deception."* Sarith says simply. *"Others,"* he gestures over to the distant Kua-Toa guards, *"will know this and expect it. The question isn't if a drow is lying. It's how and why they're lying."* A sneer crosses his face. Unlike Faedryl he had no problem with his race's reputation, so long as he could exploit it. Faedryl would suggest that Sarith pose as a slave buyer, perhaps on mission from a matron mother. With their gold pile it would be a simple lie. Maybe the guards would expect the 'lie' to be why they were buying the slaves, rather than the purchase itself. 

Let Borthan work out such a plan himself though, Sarith didn't care to suggest it. He'd rather enjoy watching them struggle to navigate the situation without his tactical acumen.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Distract crowd. Stool checks inside. the fungus almost commands sensing a plan coming along. It transforms into a slimy little gecko with entirely too much mucus dripping from it and goes inside.

*Spoiler*
Show

adv stealth: (2d20)[*14*][*14*](28)







*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 20/29| AC 13 HP: 0/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

As the myconid druid warps its body, Eyegore covers him in magical shadow. To distract, Nilvae rushes towards a guard, gesticulating wildly about something over there and using her fey fright. 

*Spoiler*
Show

Fey Presence to scare guard: (1d20)[*9*] wis save

----------


## RandomWombat

*Outside the Priest's Home*

Though there is no guard, the crowd of fish throngs around her and the building. Running into the crowd, Nilvae begins pointing and gesticulating at nothing. But the toa citizens look, and to them what they see is real. A terrible fey creature looming behind Nilvae, a huge black moose with jagged antlers and the wings of a bat. It makes a bellowing sound that feels almost a little _too_ real and the kuo-toa panic and begin to scatter and flee in all directions.

Meanwhile, Eyegore cloaks Stool from view in a dark alley that soon gets darker. From the black emerges a slimy little gecko that scales the wall and enters the upper floors of the residence.

Nilvae can feel hot breath on the back of her neck. The creature ignores Nilvae with a surly huff and turns its attention to the shopping stalls, eyeing them with malicious intent in its intelligent eyes.

*Spoiler: Nilvae Religion (DC 12)*
Show

The collective belief of the kuo-toa was enough to manifest her Fey Presence physically. It still seems to be following her intent (causing a ruckus), and displays no hostile body language towards her. It is unclear for how long the creature will persist.


*Inside the Priest's Home*

This building does have internal staircases, one on each side of the room leading up or down, but no doors bar it from the balconies - only a curtain of colorful glass beads that the Stoolmander crawls past. The inside looks marginally more impressive than the out. Comfortable furniture is decorated with trimmings of iridescent fish scales, and a twisty chandelier designed as if to have no pattern at all hangs from the ceiling.

The second floor looks like a dining room. The table is not set apart from a plain white cloth woven in seashell patterns, the clay plating and wooden utensils stacked on a shelf in the corner. An empty wooden circle is hung up on the opposite wall of the balcony, looking like it once displayed something that was torn of broken off of it.

Stool can hear some warbling toa-voices from above.

*To the Apothecary*

On their way through the main road of town, Faedryl and Derendil find Nilvae standing near a large eerie looking winged moose with glowing red eyes, as the festival-going kuo-toa scatter. Guards from the gate rush past them to investigate the disturbance.

The creature ignores Nilvae with a surly huff and turns its attention to the shopping stalls, eyeing them with malicious intent in its intelligent eyes.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl leans over to Derendil, careful so as to look as if she were a curious observer rather than actively involved with Nilvae, and mutters to him: "Is this something we should be getting involved in?" This sort of chaos was a bit early for carrying out a plan but they couldn't exactly leave Nilvae to a perilous fate, especially if she was still tongueless.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

"Right. So either Faedryl or you poses as a slaver, I act as a bodyguard or muscle, we smuggle in the weapons and bust this place wide open. But this is just the scouting mission. Let's regroup and work out the particulars. And buy back all the random junk weapons we sold." Borthan motions for Sarith to follow him and makes to leave.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

"I... haven't the foggiest. I don't know if she intended for this... manifestation, or if the nature of her chaotic magic has summoned something EXTRA for her. I think... we should not reveal ourselves till the kettle is truly tipped... for now..." Derendil clears his throat with a feline growl, hairs on end, watching the ensuing clusterfluff with morbid attention.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Seeing nothing of value (or to eat!) the tiny gecko advances to the next floor towards the voices.






*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

_What the fish?_ Nilvae turns around and looks upon the stag fey in awe. She thinks about her master, and holds up her hand dramatically, hoping the massive elk does something beneficial to her cause. Finally she can't resist to try and fluff its fur, mainly to test if it is real, but secretly to try and ride it.

Who got to claim they rode an elk and lived to tell the tale? There were few, Nilvae was sure. She hoped to befriend him once her tongue was given back.

*Spoiler*
Show

Granting advantage to allow the moose to scare the Kuo-Toa.
Animal Handling to scritch the elk (1d20+4)[*18*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Fishmarket*

Reaching up, Nilvae scratches at the antlered beast's neck fluff, dismissing any notions that she is fearful of the creature - or whatever it is. The substance of its fur feels strange, like her fingers are running through something dancing between the states of liquid and gas. Swirling ripples are left where her hands trail through it. The animal snorts and looks imperiously at the scattering kuo-toa. Mr. Spide climbs up onto a nearby building, out of immediate view on the ground.

As the guard advance on her location, the civilians look on. "Whud is dis?" one of the guards points its crude looking chopping sword at the towering winged moose.

"Is appeared oud of de aer!" one of the civilians shouts from their hiding spot inside a barrel, alongside four other fishmen huddled up next to them. Ront is leaning against the wall of the alley behind the barrel, watching with a bemused expression.

The sound of electricity crackling snaps everyone's attention away and brings it to bear upon a pair of figures walking down from the direction of the shrine. A male toa with long whiskers carrying a tall scepter which he just tapped against the ground, sending a crack of electrical current arcing into the earth. He's wearing a cloak of blue with brown trim, lined with colorful seashells. Beside him is a shorter toa, a female perhaps, with stand-out pink scales that have clearly been carefully shined and cared for. She is dressed in similar robes, but with a wooden structure on her back arching around her head and adorned with bones. Some sort of crown, it would seem. Through the gap in the ornament a finned crest runs down the top of her head and the back of her neck.

*"Oudsider,"* the female looks at Nilvae with eerie fishy eyes. *"Exblain."*

*Spoiler: Nilvae*
Show

She feels a strange sensation of something swelling and growing in her mouth. A new tongue! It feels the same to her, but unbeknownst to her it is blue with yellow polka dots.


From the opposite direction down the street from Faedryl and Derendil, Borthan and Sarith arrive on the scene to see Nilvae and the moose standing at the center of attention.

*The Priest's Home*

Up the stairs, Stool finds himself in something akin to a bedchamber. There is a wardrobe, and a tall frame filled with reflective glass. Draped upon the walls are soft blue curtains drawn across glassless windows. In place of a bed, however, a large cushioned stone basin filled with water is being used by a sea-green-scaled kuo-toa to relax. Another of similar scale color is seated in a wooden chair nearby, the two of them in the midst of discussion. Both of them have tall, webbed crests down the backs of their heads and necks and are dressed in blue and green robes stitched with red symbols - even the one currently bathing. Guess fish people don't are about wet clothes like the skin people do.

*"- ig nod good for trade,"* Stool catches the tail end of what the one in the chair is saying.

The one in the bed-tub wears a frown as he leans back in the water. "When are we going do run oud of supplies?"

The first plays with his sleeve nervously. *"She keeps making fesdivals like dis, very soon."* A frustrated grunt escapes the other, eyes closed and staring through their lids up at the ceiling. *"Whud can we do?"*

"Jigboob says oudsider in Sloobludop. Mebbe will helbp?" the resting toa opens his eyes and sits up. "She led you go outside yet?" When the other shakes his head, the soaking wet fish droops his own down in front of him and lets out a long breath.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

She appreciated Derendil's expression of caution instead of diving headfirst into danger, if only because she already agreed with that course of action and it saved a disagreement. When Borthan and Sarith appear, she quietly, and as subtly as she can, beckons them over, while pointedly leading their eyes towards Nilvae and the elk as well. "I don't exactly know what's going on," she mutters to the pair, "but we're watching for now. I expect if we jumped in it might just make matters worse but...be ready."

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

"What in all the nine hells has that girl gotten herself into this time?" Borthan's hands stray towards his weapons, but when he sees the demon moose is... friendly-ish... to Nilvae, he moves beside his allies to wait and see how this plays out.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

"We must trust Nilvae's ability to talk her way out of this. I fear if we start attacking guards and making a scene all our plans will be for nought." Derendil nervously scratched at a nearby wall, carving furrows into the fish warren.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

_What if your god can make more food? What if outsiders are key to more prosperity and food?_ Stool sends his psychic thoughts via a cloud of pheromones exudes from the tiny lizard head.






*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Seeing her tongue, Nilvae sighs, then smiles. This is Kenrith, Returned King of Surface Elves! Bask in his glory for he will bring elkiness to this realm! Kneel for his majesty will summon a flock of tasty crabs! She raises her arms and invokes the powers of Puck to summon two of the most succulent crabs!

_Let's get the flip out of here._ she whispers to the others.

*Spoiler*
Show

Flock of Familiars to summon two crab familiars for food.
(1d20+6)[*22*] Deception

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Priest House*

Emanating through the room, Stool's statement brings the younger priest from the chair and to his knees. He raises his hands to the sky. *"De goddess sends omens! Da outsiders bringd us food!"*

Standing up from the bathtub, the elder of the two fish whaps the other on the back of the head with a webbed knuckle and steps into the middle of the room, observing the place carefully. No bother is given to a towel, for these amphibious folk mind not to be dripping wet, and there is nothing showing for him to cover up. Black fishy eyes come to rest upon Stool's position on the wall, and the elder priest approaches. "Nod a divine omen, Gloog. A salamander dalking width delepathy. How did you learn such an odd talendt liddle salamander?" he speaks softly in a childish tone to the wall-crawling druid.

*The Fishmarket*

Lifting her head, the high priestess looks down her non-existent nose at Nilvae with a bemused expression. *"A surface drood king come do bring me givts?"* Holding up her arms, she invokes the moose, *"Den present dem."* Some of the kuo-toa in the crowd kneel for the 'foreign king' and a wispy, spectral crown appears floating above the winged moose's head.

And with a plea of her own, Nilvae summons forth a pair of crabs. The priestess and her right hand lackey approach the crabs and she zaps them with her electrical scepter, which causes the familiars to vanish in a flicker of magic. Contorting her face in indignation, she looks up at 'King Kenrith' and points her scepter at him. *"What de meaning of dis? You mean do insuldt kuo-toa?"*

The moose stares her down silently, while Nilvae tiptoes away and whispers to the others. Her spider friend has long since vanished into the upper spires of the village.

----------


## Spore

*Stool*
Myconid Druid
AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 25/36
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: Symbiotic Entity [16 tHP]
Concentration: - 

Stool freezes in fear as he is detected. Your faith can make all wonders true, no matter the god. No need for sacrifice. No need for murder. You just need believe. The wise salamander has spoken, and thus runs away as fast as possible.






*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Any cleric worth their salt can summon food! Nono, these were just for show! Who eats crabs without ... Nilvae waves her hands, magic echoes her words: BUTTER!

A giant half melted piece of butter falls on top of the fish men, filling the area with the aroma of warm butter. A smell Nilvae cannot bask in as she flees the scene.

*Spoiler*
Show

Casting Grease to butter up the Kuo-Toa mob.

(6d20)[*15*][*10*][*3*][*13*][*4*][*12*](57) dex saves
Also no surge.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan chuckles at Nilvae's magical distraction and shouts "CHEEZE IT! SCATTER!" Before making a run for it.




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil, shocked at the wave of warm butter, takes a moment longer to respond to the retreat before loping into a sprint.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl lingers. She has no reason to run, and if anything that would make her look more guilty. After a few moment she turns on her heel and walks calmly away, head held high and stride measured. She would not be rushed.




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith wonders if all the haste is required given they were observing from a distance, but given how he sticks out among the fishmen opts to simply follow Borthan, having no difficulty in maintaining pace.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Old Priest's Home*

Left pondering the words of the mysterious talking salamander, the kuo-toan priest rubs his fins while Stool scurries away and disappears into the lower floors of the toa mound. Outside through the balcony he can hear shouting and chaos in the streets.

*On the Run: Nilvae, Derendil, Mr. Spide, Eyegore*

A wave of melted butter sloshes down onto the street, still bubbling and warm to the touch. Many kuo-toa slip and slide in the greasy slop, including the High Priestess' lackey. But the High Priestess herself remains standing and, impulsively, gives chase as Nilvae runs into the alleyways of the labyrinthine fishy towers.

When she hears a massive shape tearing up the sloppy street behind her it seems perhaps one of the giant gulper fish is about to swallow her whole. But instead, Derendil overtakes her in his loping stride. 

They reach a body of water that rests at the foot of the gargantuan cavern's wall to the south, stretching up to where some of the kuo-toan towers merge into the stone of the wall. The water runs down from falls and tunnels all along the stone surface, the streams flowing to either side where they will eventually drain north through the town and into the Darklake. Like all water returns one day to the sea. To their left is a building with an uncanny but visibly accidental resemblance to a human nose, a stream of the water running through a stone pipe down into it.


Not long after arriving at that point, two fishfolk approach from behind them. The Priestess and the only one of her soldiers who'd managed to escape the butter and realize what was going on soon enough to tail her - though more will surely follow if the problem is not resolved. Crawling down from the shadows above, Mr. Spide tries to shoot a net of webbing at the priestess, but her senses are keener than expected and she sweeps it out of the air with her staff, smouldering it away with a pulse of electricity.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Mr. Spide attempts to web the priestess, but misses, his webs now on a 5 round CD.


*On the Run: Borthan, Sarith*

During the swift escape, Borthan and Sarith become separated from Nilvae and Derendil in the twisting, narrow alleyways. 

Not long after arriving at a knee-deep stream that is otherwise a dead end, they can hear some commotion elsewhere to their right, past a building that looks eerily, but accidentally like a human nose taking in water. A few other webbed footsteps follow them and as they turn they notice a much more silent figure in a brown robe approaching them.

The brown-robed kuo-toa withdraws his webbed hands from his sleeves and holds them at his side, loosely but in a clearly tense and battle-ready stance. "Oubsiders. Please comb width me to answer some guesdgins," he demands in a tone unsettlingly quiet and well-mannered for the kuo-toa, particularly the with barely veiled 'or else' implied in his words.

*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

New battlemap is up on r20.
Nilvae/Eyegore/Mr. Spide can act separately or use their average.

Eyegore - 21
Borthan - 19
Faedryl - 17 (arriving next round)
Spore Average - 14.3
Nilvae - 14

High Priestess Blopp - 14
Kuo-toa - 12.5

Sarith - 11
Derendil - 10

Kuo-toa Reinforcements - 10 (*5* rounds)

Mr. Spide - 8

Kuo-toa Cutter - 6
Kuo-toa Monitor - 6


*"On the Run": Faedryl*

Is it really as easy as walking away? It certainly seems so. The fish authorities are too busy chasing those running to notice her walking calmly away from the scene, and none of the civilians try to interrogate her, still enraptured by the moos standing impassively among the bubbling butter and flopping fish.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Faedryl goes unnoticed, and is free to remain out of sight or follow behind one of the other pairs in which case she can roll Initiative and will arrive next round.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Oft people overlooked the power of simply appearing like you were meant to be there, as Faedryl now did. Exuding all the power and authority she definitely still possessed, the drow strode a few more steps before stopping and sighing. She could already hear the sounds of a fight breaking out. On the one hand, travel to the surface would be much cheaper without a half dozen people to bring with her. On the other hand, it would also be more dangerous. It was definitely that not any lingering attachments (not even slightly) that forces her to turn on her heel and stride back towards the ever growing noise. At least this would put her in a good light. "The returning hero!"...mmm, maybe not. 




*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


Faedryl Initiative: (1d20+2)[*17*]
She will ideally arrive to Derendil, since he was the one she was last closest to.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:37/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan considers his options for a few moments before putting both hands behind his head and looking at the fish-man official with a look of callous disdain. "We ain't done nothing wrong. Fine, blooey, or whatever your name is. Take us to your leader or some such nonsense. Nothin' wrong with comin' to town for the festival and doin' some pranks!" Borthan, hands well away from his blades, shoots Sarith a look and a wink before stepping forward between the rogue and the guard, meaning to cover his advance. If the drow solider wished, Borthan could draw his weapons in an instant and start smacking the fish with the flats of his blades, or they could go quietly. Borthan wasn't sure which was the best path, but he was ready for anything.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Move to block the guard's view of Sarith. Readied action to smack the fish non-lethally if Sarith moves aggressively. (1d20+6)[*21*] to hit and (1d8+4)[*6*] non-lethal damage.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

So whose dumb idea was it to run from the fish people towards the flipping underground ocean? Nilvae moans. Any supportive and amphibious creatures out there? Will trade food and healing for some bodyguards! Nilvae shouts out at the sea. She looks at her familiar: Lady are you FOR REAL? No way!

You can feel the darkness's enjoying fey's contempt as it transforms into a moth and is PROMPTLY illuminated by a light spell. Come here, tasty moths and whatnot we have.

*Spoiler*
Show

Persuasion (1d20+6)[*25*] to attract a giant frog or SOMETHING. Eye-Gore turns into a literal glowing moth much to their dismay, making Nilvae the weirdest anglerfish there is.


Meanwhile Spide just flees.

----------


## RandomWombat

*On the Run: Nilvae, Derendil, Mr. Spide, Eyegore*

Nilvae's shouts do not go unanswered, though her audience is perhaps less confidence inspiring than she would like. A swarming throng of tiny frogs starts hopping from in the little cave-side pond, ribbiting, "Food. Food? Moth. Bright." They flock and hop around Eyegore, who has to dodge little tongues trying to grab him.

From up above a larger creature descends gracefully on hovering wings with a deafening buzz. A rather large dragonfly, sizable enough to stand just lightly broader than a wolf and certainly longer. The animal hovers in the air, tilting its head at Nilvae. *"Fey elf?"* it asks, its beast speech surprisingly articulate for an insect. *"For what dost thou call?"*

Her other arthropodal companion scuttles and scurries towards them after his webbing fails. Following behind is a priestess with vengeance in her eyes. Raising a symbol upon her staff, she growls an invocation. *"Rise up! Damned shpirits! Devour! For Leemogogon!"* A yowling swarm of dark spirits begins to swirl around her, their eyes blazing yellow.

*On the Run: Borthan, Sarith*

Folding his arms back into his sleeves, the robed fish nods sagely. "A wise decision." Two other kuo-toa are scrambling down the other street towards them, but slow down and observe when they see a superior already has it well in hand.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan 'surrenders' to the authorities. Its guard is down, which I will treat as a Help action should Sarith attack.
Mr. Spide flees towards the party.
Nilvae and Eyegore attract a swarm of frogs and a cave dragonfly.

Priestess Blopp casts Spirit Guardians. Anything starting its turn in 15 feet of her or entering that area takes 3d8 necrotic damage, DC 14 Wis halves. The area is also difficult terrain, halving speed.

Sarith and Derendil are up.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

New battlemap is up on r20.

Borthan - 19
Giant Dragonfly - 18
Faedryl - 17 (arriving next round)
Spore Average - 14.3

High Priestess Blopp - 14
Kuo-toa - 12.5

Sarith - 11
Derendil - 10
Frog Swarm - 10

Kuo-toa Reinforcements - 10 (*5* rounds)
Kuo-toa Cutter - 6
Kuo-toa Monitor - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith holds his hands in the air for a moment in surrender, but it's only to give him a better opportunity to unsling the crossbow from his back. He racks a bolt with lightning speed and looses it at the strongest looking guard, following it up with his own body to slip past and gain distance from the others. When the bolt hits, he draws upon its energies to draw up the wails of the dead once more, surrounding one of the less intimidating fish people. Perhaps it would suffice to scare them away, though he doubted it. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Disengage.
*Action:* Attack. 26 to hit (discord, with advantage). *12* piercing plus *5*  sneak attack damage. Used a drow poison bolt but rolled a 14 (no mods) on the save so they're almost certainly fine.
Using Wails from the Grave on the left Kua-Toa for a massive *1* necrotic damage.
*Move:* As map.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil moves to interpose himself between the priestess and Nilvae. "I'm sure this misunderstanding can be solved without further violence!" Cursing himself for not preparing for a fight, he casts a quick spell to raise his mage armor, since he had little faith that this wouldn't come to blows.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Nilvae, Derendil*

A subtle aura of force manifests around Derendil as he tries to de-escalate the situation. The priestess looks upon him with disdain. *"De insholent girl will be sacrifished to Leemogogoon! Den, her insuldts will blbe undone! Seibs her!"*

At the priestess' command, her guard rushes in, taking a safer route around the giant spider to avoid its jaws, and charges at Nilvae. But not before she has chance to react.

Behind the fish, Derendil and Nilvae notice Jimjar casually strolling into the scene. He draws a card from his deck and flips it between his fingers, shooting the two of them a wink.

*Sarith, Borthan, Faedryl*

Practically in a flash, Sarith zips behind the Monitor and sinks a poisoned bolt in through the back of the unarmored toa's robes. Black mist drifts over and causes one of the other fishmen to get watery eyes. Reacting with blindingly swift motions, the Monitor whirls its sleeves out of the way and plants both palms against Borthan's chest, knocking the wind - and some other things - out of him.

Sarith can see a ripple of orange light course through Borthan's body from the impact point, and the ranger feels disoriented, no longer to recognize the faces around him or put names to them. What remains clear is that the fish people seem hostile towards him.


Arriving on the scene, Faedryl can hear the chaos breaking out just beyond the buildings ahead of her.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith shoots the Monitor for a *17* damage Sneak Attack, but drow poison is resisted. Kuo-toa B takes *1* damage.
Derendil casts Mage Armor and activates his Ward.
Swarm of Frogs hops around Eyegore, sticking him with their tongues but not catching him.

Kuo-toa Cutter Dashes, moving towards Nilvae while avoiding AoO.
Kuo-toa Monitor strikes Borthan twice, dealing *7* damage and *1* psychic damage with the first hit, and *5* and *5* with the second. The kuo-toa's Madness Shroud inflicts Borthan with temporary retrograde Prosopamnesia, unable to recognize faces he knows for 1 hour. He rolled the same thing twice, so the second hit had no effect.

Jimjar turns up, readying an attack at the Priestess if her turn comes up or if an ally moves adjacent to her to give him Sneak Attack potential.

Borthan, Nilvae/Spide/Eyegore, and Faedryl are up. Expanded the map a little past where Sarith was.
Nilvae can verbally command the dragonfly who will follow within reason. The frog swarm follows beneath wherever Eyegore flies.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

New battlemap is up on r20.

Jimjar - n20
Borthan - 19
Giant Dragonfly - 18
Faedryl - 17
Spore Average - 14.3

High Priestess Blopp - 14
Kuo-toa - 12.5

Sarith - 11
Derendil - 10
Frog Swarm - 10

Kuo-toa Reinforcements - 10 (*4* rounds)
Kuo-toa Cutter - 6
Kuo-toa Monitor - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl returns to the scene of battle breaking out with grace and dignity, curving around a building to see Sarith - crossbow in hand - and Borthan battling against some kua-toa. "Were we not keeping a low profile?" She asks, conjuring up her practiced arcane blast sigils once more. Her eyes flash black as a hex lands upon the closest target, before unleashing the bursts of raw magic




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* As map.
*Bonus Action:*  Hexblade Curse on monitor.
*Action:* Magic Missile (2nd level) (1d4)[*3*]+3 * 4 = *24* total
(and also 4 concentration saves if he's concentrating on something)

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

No, it's half-e...I mean yes, fey elf. Nilvae picks up a stone and casts her spell on it. Eyegore interposes a writhing mass of amphibian goodness between her and the priest. She then throws a stone at him. She who is without sin casts the first stone. Heh. the dark fey quotes.

*Spoiler*
Show

Magic Stone (1d20+6)[*26*] just pelt the dude with stones.
(1d6+4)[*10*]+3 crit

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:24/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan grits his teeth as the fish strikes him, and suddenly he can't recognize his friends. But he knows his foes well enough. Drawing his battle axes he begins to lay into the kuo toa monk, trying to cleave it in half.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Are these humanoids? If so, +2 damage. (1d20+6)[*17*] to hit, (1d8+4)[*11*] damage. (1d20+6)[*11*] and (1d8+4)[*11*] damage. Had some temp HP from casting with the wand earlier, so damage was lessened a little.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Nilvae, Derendil*

A gleam surrounds a pond pebble in Nilvae's hand and she tosses it, striking the priestess hard in the forehead. A swarm of frogs hops towards her, with Eyegore shepherding them. Rearing back, Spide lunges into the priestess' field of spirits and sinks his fangs into her shoulder. As soon as he does, Jimjar tosses a card at her from behind. It flashes and a series of phantom blades suddenly slashes her from all angles.

The giant dragonfly interposes itself between Nilvae and the kuo-toa running at her, biting the careless fish and leaving a mark.

Shoving Spide off of her, the Priestess walks past him with bold (perhaps over)confidence and summons a spectral lash with nine tails shaped like terrible tentacles. It slices through the air at Nilvae, but she is able to duck out of the way. The Priestess kicks and swings at Spide her her scepter when he tries to approach behind her, but each clumsy swing is deftly evaded.

*Sarith, Borthan, Faedryl*

Swiftly adapting to the disorientation hitting him, Borthan strikes out and lands a mean cut on the Monitor a split second before the fish can evade - he's fast. The follow up blow is less successful, their opponent moving with a practiced martial fluidity. That moment is when Faedryl rounds the corner, and her barrage of unerring missiles pummels the lawfish from behind.

Surprise brings their foe to one knee, but he forces himself back up with an impassive determination in his beady black eyes. Whether that will be enough to survive is yet to be told.

The other two guards rush over and lift their spears and shields, taking stabs at Borthan. But the ranger evades their jabs with swift footwork.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan strikes Kuo-toa Monitor for *11* and then misses the second swing.
Faedryl curses the Monitor and casts Magic Missile, dealing *24* damage to the Monitor.
Nilvae critically hits the Priestess for *13* damage. 
Mr. Spide takes *12* damage from the Spirit Guardians, and bites the Priestess, dealing *6* damage and *7* poison damage.
Jimjar sneak attacks the Priestess with Cartomancy, dealing *19* damage and another delayed *9* at the start of her turn from the Blades card.
Eyegore moves forward.
Giant Dragonfly bites Kuo-toa Cutter for *6* damage.

Priestess Blopp summons a Spiritual Weapon to attack Nilvae, but it misses. She attacks Spide with a scepter and an unarmed strike, missing both.
Kuo-toa A and B attack Borthan, but both miss.

Frog Swarm follows Eyegore, taking *7* damage from Spirit Guardians.

Sarith and Derendil are up.


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

New battlemap is up on r20.

Jimjar - n20
Borthan - 19
Giant Dragonfly - 18
Faedryl - 17
Spore Average - 14.3

High Priestess Blopp - 14
Kuo-toa - 12.5

Sarith - 11
Derendil - 10
Frog Swarm - 10

Kuo-toa Reinforcements - 10 (*4* rounds)
Kuo-toa Cutter - 6
Kuo-toa Monitor - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

With Borthan holding the line for Sarith, he slides to a halt to take up his crossbow again, racking another bolt and loosing it against what he judges as the leader.



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Steady aim.
*Action:* Attack. 14 (with advantage, RIP) from discord to probably miss the monitor, but if it does hit it deals *18* piercing damage. Not a poison bolt this time. 
*Move:* None.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil realizes that the wave of spiritual guardians washing over him will soon begin tearing into him, so he releases the beast and enters his blood rage, launching himself at the priestess.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Reckless attack with advantage- (1d20+5)[*21*] and (1d20+5)[*10*] for (1d8+5)[*11*].

----------


## RandomWombat

*Nilvae, Derendil*

As the dying croaks of despairing frogs ring out, the others ribbiting in confusion, Derendil charges into the mass of angry spirits. His claws rake across the Priestess' shoulder with a bloodcurdling roar, sending her spinning around to regain her balance. The spirits screech and claw at him, leaving only shallow flecks of white on the tips of his fur when they finally break through the arcane barrier around him. From behind the Priestess, Jimjar looses a bolt that lands squarely in her back, inflicting serious damage.

The spirits flow off of Derendil like ducks from water and converge on Eyegore, tearing apart the tiny moth from the air.

Bringing to bear his sword in both hands, the toa warrior jumps up and swings at the dragonfly, which swiftly darts out of the way. He snaps his sharp, shark-like teeth up at its legs, but catches only air. The bug snaps back, managing only to nip one of the fish's fins from the air.

*Sarith, Borthan, Faedryl*

It was enough. The fins and whiskers at the side of the Monitor's head perk up when Sarith racks a new bolt into the chamber. When the clunk of the crossbow goes off, the fish reacts with surprising speed, leaning back out of the way and flowing the movement into another pair of strikes on Borthan. The webbed fists pummel him in the sides as he tries to defend both angles at once, but he focuses his mind and resists the intrusive psychic presence the creature's touch brings.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith takes a shot at the Monitor, but misses.
Derendil slashes the Priestess recklessly for *11* damage. He passes his save against Spirit Guardians and takes only *11* damage, most of it eaten up by his wards.

Cutter takes a swing at a bite at Giant Dragonfly, but misses both.
Monitor strikes Borthan twice for *7* and *3* damage, but he resists both of the added effects.

Jimjar lands a *20* damage sneak attack on the Priestess.
Giant Dragonfly bites Kuo-toa Cutter for a mere *2* damage nip.

Eyegore takes *17* necrotic damage from the Spirit Guardians and pops on his turn start.

Borthan, Nilvae, Spide, and Faedryl are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

New battlemap is up on r20.

Jimjar - n20
Borthan - 19
Giant Dragonfly - 18
Faedryl - 17
Spore Average - 14.3

High Priestess Blopp - 14
Kuo-toa - 12.5

Sarith - 11
Derendil - 10
Frog Swarm - 10

Kuo-toa Reinforcements - 10 (*3* rounds)
Kuo-toa Cutter - 6
Kuo-toa Monitor - 6

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

NOW! Nilvae shouts as she wiggles her fingers and it seems the spirits turn against their "owner". Spide takes the opportunity to bite.

*Spoiler*
Show

Cast Phantasmal Force (1d6)[*3*], upon seeing the target saving throw, I cast Silvery Barbs, imposing disadv. on its save, and giving Spide advantage on its attack (2d20)[*5*][*14*](19)+6 for (1d8+3)[*7*] piercing and (2d8)[*14*] poison damage con save halved. 

Hopefully three instances of damage will disrupt the spell.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Borthan seemed to be taking a beating and there was no real time to conserve spells. Much as she'd prefer to maintain her magic, now was the time to go all out. With another gesture she called another burst of arcane bolts against the strongest looking foe, while lashing out at the other to his side to entangle the two weaker Kua-Toa together. Were it so easy. 




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Move:* 1 SE, cast+shove, then 2N (done on map).
*Action:* Magic Missile (2nd level) 3 (from discord)+3 * 4 = *24* force damage...again
(and also 4 concentration saves if he's concentrating on something)
*Bonus Action:*  TK Shove the centre Kua-Toa SW into his buddy. (1d20)[*7*]+mod Str save vs. DC14 or be shoved. For maybe damage?

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:14/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan grit his teeth as he was struck again by the monitor. This was turning into a slug fest that he might not be equipped to win, with enemies moving in on all sides. "Little help here?" Borthan looked around, but saw no friends coming to aid him. He flourished his axes defensively, knowing support would come... must come... soon.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Dodge action.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Nilvae, Derendil*

An illusion begins to weave around the fish creature, the spirits turning against her. But she turns up her nose at them imperiously, and the kuo-toa's unshaken belief in her own superiority is such that the illusion is driven from reality. How could a perfect spell turn on its master?

That surge of confidence, however, is twisted by Nilvae's magic and she fails to notice the spider up until he sinks his fangs deep into her shoulder. The priestess shudders and falls to one knee, struggling to shove off the weight of the arachnid from her back. *"No. No! Imbossibubble! I am... I am de chosen!"* she gasps in shock and despair, unable to fathom her own defeat. She spins around, swinging wildly with her scepter and with wide, panicked black eyes.

The spiritual whip swings itself around blindly at Nilvae, failing to hit anything while the priestess controlling it is facing the other direction.

Hopping back towards the water, the frog swarm gets tangled up underfoot of the remaining kuo-toa, causing him to stumble and lose his combat footing.

*Sarith, Borthan, Faedryl*

As Borthan brings up his weapons defensively, another barrage of missiles pummels the fish from behind and, at last, he collapses under the weight of his wounds. Though the woman(?) firing the missiles doesn't look familiar at all, her modus operandi seems familiar to the ranger.

Twisting around, he deftly deflects the two remaining fish-men's spears with his axes.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Faedryl casts Magic Missile, dealing another *24* damage to the Monitor and taking him out. Faedryl gains *2* temp hp from her Hexblade curse.
Nilvae casts Phantasmal Force, but the Priestess passes her Int save even at a Disadvantage from Silvery Barbs.
Spide passes his save and takes only *8* damage from the Spirit Guardians. He hits with a bite thanks to the Advantage, and deals *7* piercing and *14* poison damage, nearly enough to take out the Priestess. She loses concentration on Spirit Guardians.

Priestess' Spiritual Weapon attacks Nilvae, but misses. The Priestess swings twice at Mr. Spide, but also misses both.
Kuo-toas A and B attack Borthan, both missing.

Frog Swarm hops into Kuo-toa Cutter's space, giving Advantage on attacks against him due to the distraction.

Sarith and Derendil are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

New battlemap is up on r20.

Jimjar - n20
Borthan - 19
Giant Dragonfly - 18
Faedryl - 17
Spore Average - 14.3

High Priestess Blopp - 14
Kuo-toa - 12.5

Sarith - 11
Derendil - 10
Frog Swarm - 10

Kuo-toa Reinforcements - 10 (*3* rounds)
Kuo-toa Cutter - 6
Kuo-toa Monitor - 6

----------


## Amnestic

*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith frowns momentarily as Faedryl steals his rightful kill, robbing him of the glory that is due to him, but he shouldn't expect anything else from her. Instead he swiftly racks another bolt, takes aim, and looses it. The bolt screams across the battlefield, impacting the fish-man's slimy body and carrying the screams beyond to wrack his companion with pain. 



*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*Bonus Action:* Steady aim.
*Action:* Attack. 21 (with advantage) from discord on the closest Kua-Toa, for *20* piercing damage (12 base + 8 sneak attack). He'll also deal *5* necrotic to the other Kua-Toa with his second and final use of Wails of the Grave.
*Move:* None.

[

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 29/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp)
Concentrating on: Rage
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil, sensing weakness from the wavering priestess, lashes out with the pommel of weapon in an attempt to capture her alive. The moral part of him didn't want blood on his hands when it can be avoided. The practical part of him knew they may need a hostage to secure leverage in case the entire settlement came down on their heads. And the blistering rage inside him wanted to slash off her head, but it, though an act of supreme will, was outvoted for once.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

 Reckless attack the priestess as non lethally as possible. (1d20+5)[*20*] or (1d20+5)[*13*] to hit for (1d8+5)[*12*] damage. (1d8)[*5*] in case of a crit.

----------


## RandomWombat

*Nilvae, Derendil*

Bringing his blade back, Derendil reins in his fury and delivers a fierce backhand that sends the Priestess sprawling onto the ground, unconscious. The toa soldier throws himself away from the dragonfly, through the frog pile, and opens himself up to a bite that leaves bleeding marks on his back. "Ged away!" he shouts, slashing at Derendil's back with a coral-studded blade. His strike catches on Derendil's tough hide and fur, the intimidating but ill-thought weapon design tugging painfully at the coarse hairs but failing to do anything more than annoy.

Jimjar steps around the fallen Priestess and lines up a shot that pierces through the fish soldier's side and out the other. *"Don't mean to interrupt, but there's a crowd of toa back there I think is looking for you. Us, now. So we might want to grab her and be somewhere else."*

The giant insect flies in from behind, but the buzzing gives the kuo-toa ample warning and he ducks away from another bite.

*Sarith, Borthan, Faedryl*

A bolt pierces through the skull of the nearest kuo-toa, splatting the other with blood. The light around that second fishman dims, and the blood on his face hardens, clawing at his scales as otherworldly wails torment him.

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Sarith shoots Kuo-toa B, taking him out with *20* damage sneak attack. His wails deal *5* damage to the other one.
Derendil smacks the Priestess for *12* NL damage, knocking her out.

Kuo-toa Cutter moves away from the Dragonfly, provoking an attack at Advantage from the frogs. Gets bitten for *4* damage. He attacks Derendil, but misses even with Advantage.

Jimjar sneak attacks the Cutter for *18* damage.
Dragonfly bites the Cutter, but misses.

Borthan, Faedryl, Nilvae and Spide are up!


*Spoiler: Initiative*
Show

New battlemap is up on r20.

Jimjar - n20
Borthan - 19
Giant Dragonfly - 18
Faedryl - 17
Spore Average - 14.3

High Priestess Blopp - 14
Kuo-toa - 12.5

Sarith - 11
Derendil - 10
Frog Swarm - 10

Kuo-toa Reinforcements - 10 (*2* rounds)
Kuo-toa Cutter - 6
Kuo-toa Monitor - 6

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:14/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan, seeing enemies downed to either side of him, stands tall and salutes Sarith before turning on the remaining toa with brute force and two battle axes. Should the remaining guard fall, he will turn to Sarith and Faedryl. "C'mon. We should meet with the others and all start moving in the same direction when we haul ass out of here!" Then if the path is clear he will move towards the center of the area again. 



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Two attacks- (1d20+6)[*23*] and (1d8+4)[*11*]. (1d20+6)[*17*] and (1d8+4)[*6*] on the second attack. (1d8)[*8*] if a crit happens. Then if the toa guard is dead he will move towards the priestess and the other group.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

With the last fishman defeated she hesitates for a moment, concerned that they were opening their back to more people, but better they regroup than fight in separate areas. She takes Borthan's advice and hurries over to the sounds of combat.




*Spoiler: Actions*
Show


*BA:* Shove herself for extra distance.
*Action:* Dash
*Move:* As map (65ft total).

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae jolts the priestess' mind to make her suspectible for worse things. She implants the image of a dancing cow inside the priestess.

*Spoiler*
Show

DC 14 Int Save or take (2d6)[*2*] psychic damage and reduce a future save by 1d4.
Spide attacks for (1d20+6)[*17*] for (1d8+3)[*7*] and (2d8)[*4*] poison again (save con 12 half, minus d4 if Sliver succeeds)

----------


## RandomWombat

Borthan chops through the last fishman as he marches his way towards the sound of fighting. Faces remain confusing to him, but he can be fairly certain that his friends were not fish-men, so that narrows things down. Faedryl quickly overtakes him running the other way around the building, and using telekinetic force to propel herself faster.

The toa with the coral sword falters as Nilvae's befuddling images flash through his head. In his momentary disorientation, Mr. Spide sinks fangs into his leg. Already weakened, he falls to the ground and drools onto the cold stone, his body paralyzed by spider venom.

Distant sounds of shouting are rapidly getting closer as those left behind in the priestess' hurry search for her, and for those who paid insult to their festival.

*"Sounds like you guys got into some trouble, huh?"* Jimjar observes casually, looking at the priestess Derendil knocked out. *"What's the play? We getting out of here? Hide in a building?"*

*Spoiler: Combat Log*
Show

Borthan strikes the Kuo-toa twice for *11* and *6*, taking him down.
Faedryl Dashes and shoves herself.
Nilvae deals *2* psychic damage with her mind sliver to the Cutter.
Spide bites the Cutter for *7* damage and *2* poison. Spide's poison deals just enough to finish the enemy, leaving him paralyzed and stabilized due to spider poison effect.

All hostiles are down, and combat ends for now.
Every party member has two full rounds to act before more kuo-toa show up.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"Options are limited." Faedryl says as both she and Sarith join the group, the unconscious priestess before them. "Retreat to Shuushar's place? It's outside of town. The inn won't be safe, and they'll be searching houses if we're not on the street." She summons up some flames one one of the nearby buildings. It shouldn't burn down the whole town but it'd be harder to follow them if the guards were distracted by firefighting. 



*Spoiler*
Show

*Action:* Create Bonfire on the edge of a building towards where most of the sound is coming from - north, I believe? Hopefully aiming to start a fire as a distraction.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:14/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan presses a hand to a deep cut on his eyebrow where the monitor had punched him especially hard. He couldn't tell who was talking with absolute surety, but violet skin and the proper and slightly superior voice meant Faedryl. "I say we split. Those who know how to get out of a jam lead these fish for a merry romp through the town, while the rest take the priestess to Shuushar and stow her for now. I think you can guess which team I want to be on!" He spit some blood and looked over his shoulder at the sound of oncoming kuo toa.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

She was loathe to split up _again_ so soon, but Borthan's suggestion held wisdom. A distraction would help split their pursuers. "Derendil, could you carry the Priestess? Sarith, help Borthan." The difference in how she addressed the two wasn't conscious to her, but quite clear to onlookers. A request first, and then a command.  "Jimjar, perhaps you could apply your talents to causing some chaos?"

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Who do you think they'll follow? The half-elf was still distraught from loosing so many froggy lives to the vile priestess, but she kept it together. In any case they will have to fight giant frogs now. she says as she summons a relatively giant-but-not-so-big frog.

*Spoiler*
Show

Minor Illusion to summon a minor frog and to create a somewhat natural stonewall behind it.

----------


## RandomWombat

Acting quickly, the group makes preparations to evade their pursuers. Borthan, Sarith and Jimjar split off, leaving a trail of toppled objects in their wake to make certain their trail is the easier to follow, while Nilvae, Faedryl and Derendil grab the Priestess and beat a hasty retreat. Mr. Spide quickly finishes off the paralyzed toa soldier with a bite through the throat, then scuttles after them through the upper levels of the city. The dragonfly Nilvae had called upon follows them, from up above.

*Borthan, Sarith, Jimjar*

A trail of chaos they leave in their wake as they run, weave and parkour. The kuo-toa pursuing are distracted temporarily by Nilvae's illusion, allowing them to get a head start into the depths of the fish-hive.

*"I know somewhere we can hide out and shake the tail,"* Jimjar helpfully volunteers, taking the lead in guiding them.

*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show

This group can roll the better of Athletics or Acrobatics, and Stealth to lead the kuo-toa on a merry chase without being caught or cornered.


*Nilvae, Faedryl, Derendil, and the Bugs*

With her fishiness slung over Derendil's broad shoulder, they run along the stream next to the cavern wall. It offers a straight path to the west wall, with no twists or turns to lead them astray. Thanks to the distraction left behind and their diversionary party, they reach the wall without being caught.

This crude wooden barrier, for its shoddy construction, is still quite tall. But it has plenty of hand holds, and feels sturdy enough not to fall over as they climb. To the north they can see the gates; most of the guards have gone running off to see to the commotion. But the kuo-toa are not chaotic enough to leave their front door unguarded. The giant Gulper and its beastmaster remain guarding the gate.

*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show

This group can also roll the better of Athletics or Acrobatics, and Stealth to get over the wall without being spotted by the guard.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl glances around, searching for the optimal path up. The guards were a problem, but not one she could do much about.




*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show


Acrobatics: (1d20+2)[*15*]
Stealth: (1d20+2)[*6*]






*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith glances at Jimjar, doubt writ clear on his face, but he nevertheless nods his agreement and follows behind. Poor guidance was better than no direction at all.



*Spoiler: Rolls*
Show


Acrobatics: (1d20+6)[*26*]
Stealth: (1d20+6)[*22*]

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:14/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan nods to Jimjar, focusing on speed and stealth as they leave a trail and hopefully divert attention from their allies. He has a grin on his face, blood in his teeth from a mashed lip, and his hands close to his weapons in case they get cornered.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Athletics- (1d20+6)[*9*]
Stealth- (1d20+4)[*22*]



*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Priestess over his shoulders, Derendil does his best to keep up with the others, depending on their instincts to guide his movement and keep him out of sight. He was lumbering and ungraceful in the best of circumstances, and carrying a homicidal fish priestess in a fireman's carry was not the best of circumstances.



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Athletics-(1d20+5)[*14*]
Stealth. HA!- (1d20)[*15*]

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Nilvae knew her fey allies where just over the hedge, but this was ridiculous. Her lithe features made it easier for her to climb, but she was no outdoorsy person.

*Spoiler*
Show

Acrobatics(1d20+3)[*4*]
Stealth (1d20+5)[*12*]

----------


## RandomWombat

*Nilvae, Faedryl, Derendil, and the Bugs*

Faedryl and Derendil vault the fence with ease. Crawling down from the buildings above, Mr. Spide surmounts it. Struggling to get purchase, Nilvae slips back down several times before the spider sticks a bit of web to her and drags her up manually. Fortunately, it does not seem that the lone guard or his hulking beast look their way in the time it takes to get over.

Together, they flee out onto the beach road and to the ramshackle hermit shack down by the water. Shuushar is not visible, perhaps inside, while his master is standing in the sand and watching the water. When the buzz of their dragonfly friend coming down from far above announces their arrival, he turns. *"Oh my goodnesh! You acshually did it!"* he expresses in surprise, upon seeing the priestess hauled over Derendil's shoulders.

*Borthan, Sarith, and Jimjar*

The trio weaves through the alleyways, knocking things over on their trail and then abruptly changing direction to confuse their pursuers. They cross through much of the kuo-toa town onto the eastern end, where Jimjar leads them to a rope ladder and begins to ascend.

On the second level is a wooden walkway, circling the structure. There are bridges attaching it to the upper structures of adjacent mounds. Jimjar adjusts his shirt and walks over to a wooden door set into the wall, knocking calmly on it in a pattern. Four, then three, then one.

The door opens and a kuo-toa with a sleek scaled face wearing a scavenged, moth-eaten old noble's frock opens the door. She smiles widely a shark-toothed smile when she sees Jimjar and welcomes the three inside. "Welcome to de Spiral Reef!" she announces cheerily. 

The interior of the building is surprisingly quiet, refined and 'fancy' for the shanty town full of termite towers. Around the wall is a spiral pattern not unlike that of a drill, running diagonally in a ring. Pieces of colorful coral are hanging from the ceiling like chandeliers, with glowing spheres stuck to their tips. It features circular tables where kuo-toa are playing games of chance. Cards, dice, even a roulette table. More kuo-toa servers wearing scavenged surface noble clothes go from table to table bringing drinks and food. At the back of the room is a bar counter being manned by a rock gnome with a thick, dark eyebrows and a whiskery beard. A gold nugget is hanging from a cord around the bartender's neck. Another is held in a glass display case on the counter, with a strange white shimmer on the surface of the gold.

*"One of my many little haunts,"* Jimjar says over his shoulder, grinning up at the drow and drow-blooded behind him. *"We shouldn't be bothered here."* As soon as the door closes behind them, the shouting and panic in the streets vanish as if shut out.

*Spoiler: Religion*
Show

*Spoiler: DC 12*
Show

The gold nugget is a holy symbol of Garl Glittergold, gnomish deity of luck, protection and trickery.


*Spoiler: DC 15*
Show

As a deity of protection, there may be a form of warding hanging over the gambling hall that keeps the religious inquisition of the kuo-toa from sniffing it out for what it is - a strange sort of temple.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"It was not exactly as planned. Not at all as planned, actually. But it's done." She glances back to the town. "We should get inside and talk about next steps. There's a chance the guards will come here in search of the priestess - do you have a place to hide her for now? A secret chamber or the like?"




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith glances around the room, sizing it up for entries, exits, threats and secure positions. He didn't trust Jimjar, nor this place, but if it offered even a moment's of respite it would be worth it. *"We stick out in town."* He states, matter of factly. *"We may need to wait until they retire for sleep before moving."* Sitting around waiting was hardly his idea of a good time, but he didn't see much else in the way of options.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

*"That'sh not someshing we have, I'm afraid,"* but all the same, Sloop invites them inside out of clear view. Shuushar is, in fact, inside and drinking some tea by a cooking fire. He looks up and seems relieved when he sees the priestess alive - for now. He pours a few small wooden cups and offers them up to the three.

The dragonfly lands on the roof, where Spide eyes it hungrily but resists for now. 

*The Spiral Reef*

In addition to the door they came in through, Sarith can see a doorway at the back of the room which, from the look of it and of the wall, Sarith suspects leads into a stairway up to the floor above. As he looks around, the gnome at the counter (standing on a stool behind it to help reach) nods at him. *"You look nervous. Relax! Better yet, can I get you something to help relax?"* the bartender offers, holding a hand up at the selection of bottles behind him. There is nothing top shelf, but cheap wines and ales from all around the northdark. Sarith recognizes a few mushroom wines from drow wineries he knows.

*Spoiler: Perception DC 14*
Show

Behind the counter and in the corner, one can make out a hidden trapdoor beneath a small woven rug. There did not seem to be any entrances to the first floor of this kuo-toa spire, so the trapdoor must lead there.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:14/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

To Borthan, the room is a mess of faceless, fishy bodies, causing him to shake his head and look away in dizzying confusion. "Sarith's right. We stay as long as we have to, then we keep moving." He draws a rag from his belongings and uses it to wipe the blood from his lips and nose. When the bartender gestures towards a wall of booze, Borthan grins. Faceless as they may be, these fish knew how to have a good time. "I'll take an ale for drinking and a bucket of water for washing. Don't want to drip any blood on your nice floor."




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil may be large, but even he tired of carrying a man sized unconscious fish priestess over a wall and up a beach. When Shuushar and his master offer hospitality he is quick to move inside, not only because he wished to be out of sight of the settlement but because he wanted to put their captive down. Doing so inside, he made sure he bonds were tight, then smiled as he accepted a cup from Shuushar. "I won't say the entire affair was as non-violent as we hoped, but we secured the priestess. What next?"

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

*"I haff been conshidering traveling. My colleaguesh,"* Shuush's master touches his chest where the symbol of the Society rests on his robes. *"They may require my assishtansh. And wish the prishtesh' influence gone, I can worry lesh about Shloobludop."*

With a nod, Shuushar smiles back up at Derendil. "And you want to bring de priebstess wid us?" he asks his master, who considers her, still unconscious. The two begin assessing her wounds and ensuring that she is stable.

*"She would be out of your hair,"* Sloop confirms. *"Whatever the girl'sh fey ish planning. I do hope that my people will not become the butt of hish joke,"* he looks over at Nilvae and frowns uncertainly.

*The Spiral Reef*

The gnome behind the counter reaches back, and a glowing mage hand plucks a bottle of ale - dwarven, as most ales down here are - from the wall. He pulls a glass out of the counter beneath him and sets it atop, the floating bottle pouring into it. *"One copper for a glass. Ice in your drink?"* he asks as he slides it over to Borthan. Before the bounty hunter can answer, he snaps his fingers and winks. The sides of the glass frost up slightly as the drink is chilled by magic. *"Trick question. Magic doesn't water down drinks."*

Lifting up a finger, Jimjar twirls it around at the ceiling. *"We're the safest place we could be, Bort. Invitation only. Besides, our ship doesn't leave yet, where would we go?"* He takes a seat with Borthan at the bar and signals the keep for a glass of his own. *"My usual, Fizz. Put it on my tab. You know I'm good for it,"* the gambler adds with a wink and a tap on the side of his nose.

*"Always are. Feel free to be tempted by the tables while you're all here."* Bartender Fizz taps the display case and grins. *"Garl's guarantee, all games are honest and fair. Anything less would be an insult."*

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"That works for me." The priestess was a Kua-Toa matter to handle, and while it was - essentially - kidnapping on Shuushar and his master's part, Faedryl found she didn't really care. She was clearly too dangerous to be left here and alive, so it was either that or death. The priestess was likely getting off easy, all things considered. "Certainly better than bringing her with us."




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

He is no stranger to gambling - for soldiers it was often all they had to pass the time - but neither did he find he had much taste for it at the moment. *"Will the ship even take us now?"* Even if they didn't have a fully accurate description of their group, how many non-Kua-Toa were even in town? It had to be a short list, and shorter still were those who vaguely matched their descriptions. They were marked now, for all the troubles that would bring them. *"If the Captain refuses, what is the next step?"*

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Me too, old man. Me too. Nilvae says and shrugs. He is the source of all of my power sadly. Even if I wrestled control from him, I would just be stuck here, as a moderately tough surface girl, armed with a dagger and good intentions. Well, and a knack for talking. Nilvae smiles sadly.

Is there a way we could convince the town that this priestess meant harm and her deity was malevolent and destructive? Your people's mental abilities are strong enough to weaken the old demon that gave her power, and summon a new or old god again. Preferrably without Puck's aid, so I am not indebted even more with him.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

Taking a slow sip of his tea, Shuushar sets the wooden cup into the sand in front of his seated position. "You know dat we woulb radder dey wake up from dis fantasy."

*"Eashier shaid than done, my shtudent. Whatever you deshide, I ashk you not deliver them back into the bushom of Blibdoolpoolp."* For as much risk as there may be of any non-toa remembering or pronouncing such a name correctly. *"She ish a mad goddess, ash mad ash the onesh who made her. There can be no future with her but shinking deeper and deeper. Shure ash sherving a demon."*

*Spoiler: Nilvae*
Show

The feeling of a tiny pair of hands on her cheek heralds a vision of Puck stepping from beneath her hood to perch upon her shoulder. He looks up at her with a smile that doesn't fully reach his bright eyes, which carry a look she recognizes. One she's seen before on the old mayor, imperious and full of himself.

"You're saying some worrying things, sunflower. Not thinking of double crossing me are you?" the pixie princeling crouches down and sets an arm upon one of his knees, and jabs a finger into his opposite palm. "I've got a _lot_ riding on this. Mess this up for me and I can leave you _far_ worse off than a farmgirl in the dark, with a dagger and good intentions."


As Nilvae looks distracted, Sloop watches her with a serious face, and Shuush looks upset. The master toa abruptly cuts into a conversation most weren't aware was there. *"I would preshiate not threatening guestsh in my home, fey."*

After a brief second, green lights glimmer on Nilvae's shoulder, taking on the outline of a tiny faerie with butterfly wings and a pair of green spots where eyes would be. Cheery laughter thinly masking insult rings in the small hut. *"Cojones on this fish! I don't 'preciate being told what to do."*

*"Was ashking, not telling,"* Sloop answers, calmly and smoothly. Puck holds up a pair of fingers and snaps them, sending off some tiny green sparks. 

*"You got me there."*

Looking down at Shuushar, Sloop makes a motion at him not to interrupt, and holds out his hands for a cup of tea, which is in turned offered up to Puck. *"Would you mind illuminating ush on what you have 'riding' on thish?"* Puck leans forward and drags his hand through the cup of tea, then licks off his fingers.

*"Sometimes I forget you fish can see things. And hear things, it would seem. I have a question, though - why should I go spilling my plans? The point of a servant is to do things when told,"* the fey responds, patting Nilvae on the cheek.

*Spoiler: OOC*
Show

Sloopidoop provides a Help action on any social checks vs Puck.


*The Spiral Reef*

Jimjar waits for some gnomish wine to be poured for him and takes a long moment to savor the taste. *"That's a good point. However,"* he holds up the glass and toasts to Sarith. *"I have no idea what to do about it!"*

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Borthan Zuek*
Half-Drow Ranger
AC: 17 HP:14/37
0 Temp HP
PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Sanity:12
Conditions: 
Concentrating on:
3 of 4 d10 HD.
Spell Slots- 3/3 1st

Borthan shrugged, dabbing at his lips and nose with the water and cloth for a few moments before sipping his ale. "We let the smooth talkers try to negotiate us into what we need from the Captain. If'n that don't work, the muscle makes sure we GET what we NEED. I don't need a lot of inclination to take from a slaver... who I don't.... I mean... I'll do what needs be done, you hear?"




*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 



Derendil scratches at his chin for a few moments, but ultimately keeps silent as master and student discussed how to handle the situation, not just because he had difficulty understanding them (he was adjusting, but only barely), but because as much as it affected them the fate of the priestess seemed like an internal matter.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Much as she would love to contribute to the discussion, there was every chance she would make matters worse. For good or ill, Faedryl opts to mirror Derendil's silence and allow Nilvae...and her fey master, to hash the situation out themselves. 




*Sarith Kzerkarit*
Drow Fighter/Phantom Rogue
AC: 16 HP: 29/29
PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8
Conditions:  
Concentrating: 

Sarith nods, slowly. *"Given the group's track record with words, we should expect that fighting is inevitable."* His words are flat, almost hollow, with disinterest. He hesitates, before uttering the most minor act of rebellion: *"Faedryl's magic may be notable but her diplomacy leaves much to be desired."*

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

For a brief moment, Nilvae's demeanor is similar to that of Faedryl. A genial arcanist surrounded by egoists and idiots. She rubs the bridge of her nose, closes her eyes and sighs ever so silently. She opens them and fixates at Puck. First of all, I appreciate your help in the past and present. Without your gifts I would be spider food about now. she opens.

But if you remember our agreement, or rather the lack thereof, you must agree that we never agreed on proper terms. Only that I serve you and help you advance your position this side of the fey portal. Which I am doing. Never did I actually agree to unconditional nor to blind servitude. In fact I never properly asked for your help, I merely pleaded for aid alone in the forest, and in your _infinite generosity_ you trust your magical gifts upon me in addition to me helping you.

The sitting girl stands up and puts a foot down towards Puck. I have no intentions of crossing you, if our mutual agreement stands. What I do have an issue with is you playing with my friends. Make my magic surge and create infinitely absurd results. Amuse yourself on my behalf. But I am not serving you the way another would serve a demon lord. It is true I have no way to bargain with you on a power level. But I have influential friends. We are at pivotal place here now that the demon invasion surges, and if you play your cards right, if you aid us in the correct way, your power could even eclipse that of the myconid's mushroom lord. 

Her eyes gleam as she catches Puck either loosing concentration or rolling his eyes in boredom. But it is not about power for you, is it? It is about fun. Grant me your aid, and more of your awesome magic when we will get behind all of this, and I can help you with stupid and smart fun beyond your expectation. Just imagine. Flying monkeys flinging poop onto drow matriarchs. An illusory image of you pulling down your pants and mooning Baphomet's cultists. Duergar enchanted by the smell of fresh apple pie. If fame and awesome stories are your thing, I will make sure the servant of the fey lord Puck is written into the annuals of history cited as "the first of the Feywild to actually insult a demon lord and survive".

*Spoiler*
Show

Persuasion (2d20)[*18*][*2*](20)+6
Pleasepleaseplease!

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

Lounging upon Nilvae's shoulder, Puck listens (barely) to Nilvae's impassioned speech. From time to time he makes a motion with his hand, as if it were a puppet blabbing on. But he wears a fey grin as the subject turns to lighter topics, such as pranking the denizens of darkness into submission. "I suppose it's hard to pull off a joke if you're not in on the joke. Sometimes. Not always," he admits.

Pushing off of her shoulder, he glides into the air, wings fluttering and casting green specks of light down onto the sandy floor like snowflakes. "So we'll do away with the _blind_ part for today." Holding out his arms, he alights on some of the structure around the hut's door. "I'm in something of a contest right now, you see. A little race. For demon lords walk the Underdark, lost and confused, and we are in an unprecedented position to _mess with them_."

Leaning forward, he holds up a finger. "But I only need to mess with one. For the goal of this contest is none other than to be the first to redeem a demon lord!" he announces, with the kind of smile on his face that says he's not kidding at all. "That's why I need to replace the Priestess, and convince the fishies that their new demon lord patron is actually benevolent and well-meaning. Their power will make it so, and I will win!"

Wearing a skeptical frown, Sloop keeps his arms folded and looks up at the fey with a shake of his head. *"My people are alsho chaotic and hard to predict, and their powersh often warp the thing they are worshiping in shtrange ways. Thish may not work out the way you hope."*

"You say that like it's not an equally amusing outcome," Puck responds in a deadpan voice.

"Bubd whad if id _does_ work?" cutting in, Shuushar seems intrigued by the plan. His own peace-loving nature clings tightly, perhaps naively, to the idea of a happy ending even to a dark story.

*The Spiral Reef*

There's no complaints from Jimjar about stealing the slaver's ship. For now, it seems, letting the situation outside cool will allow them to move around the toa town more freely later.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

I do already have a small idea, but this requires a little constant aid from your side. Nilvae is courageous enough to ask her fun-loving patron for aid. I have noticed some fish and amphibians follow light sources. And if there is something a fey lord can do it is illusory light sources. So basically your new demon lord is the Great Anglerfish, benevolent demon lord of feasting! We summon a bunch of fireflies for the festival, and permanently enchant the seaside to be rich of fish and frog. Your people will feast, they will not know hunger, and if this incident goes to plan, your people's innate ability to believe will keep the shore alight.

What do you think? Could this work? Faedryl? Do you think this works with the Weave? And on the plus side, Eyegore will HATE being enchanted with yet another orb of light. Which is a plus in my books.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl shrugs at the question, sincerely. "Whether it works or not depends entirely on your master's abilities and conviction, and the belief of the Kua-Toa. I'm not an expert on either. I only spent two years studying fey, they're not exactly a core aspect of drow education, even one as esoteric as mine. It's not impossible to do persistent enchantments or illusions but they're not exactly commonplace among mortal spellcasters. Certainly not of the level you're talking about." She side-eyes the fey. "But whether they can do it or not, and whether it would work?" Another shrug. "I don't have any alternatives, I will say that much."

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

Puck clicks his tongue and wags his finger. "Careful how you word things with them, now! Or you'll find yourself making a new demon lord, instead of making this demon lord into _not_ a demon lord." The sense comes through that he wouldn't care overtly, save that it would not win him his little 'race'. "As long as they know that they are praying to their _Leemogoogon_, and not something else."

*"Ish there any way to pershuade you not to do thish?"* the still wary Sloop addresses the fey, retaining a passive posture to avoid commanding or offending.

"Well, if you have a better idea for me to win, I'm listening," turning to the side, Puck cups one of his ears.

The meditative fish-priest lets out a sigh and shakes his head. He looks at the others in the hut as if searching for signs of possible help and then relents, *"I leave thish to you, then. Jusht remember, my peoplesh' future ish in your handsh."*

"And it will be bright, I'm sure."

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

What are we doing with her? Nilvae points at the unconscious priestess. I am unsure if you are familiar with interrogations, but I am kinda argumentative, but I am bad at tryin' to aim for goals. Is there something we want to know? Do we even want her to see us? Nilvae checks the fish lady for any spell components and holy symbols.

*Spoiler*
Show

Helping Faedryl with Investigation to find any and all spell components.

----------


## Amnestic

[QUOTE=Amnestic;25660713]
*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"I doubt she could tell us anything we didn't already know, unless you're planning on robbing her residence and want to know where she keeps her most precious items." And now that she said it out loud that didn't sound like such a terrible idea. "It would be safer if she didn't see us though."



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


I guess I'm searching for spell components?
(1d20+4)[*18*](1d20+4)[*9*]

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

Actually that would not be the worst idea ever. We can always use anything we pick up, and I say a staff, an orb, even a magical fish that can cast divine spells would aid me in selling my priestess disguise.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

A more thorough search of the Priestess' belongings, now that their party is out of the fire, turns up some valuables. The shock scepter she wielded, like the others used by the toa priests, doesn't seem to work for other species. But hers' is clearly of much better quality, and holding it imparts a sensation of certainty that was not there before, marking it as magical - beyond its purely imaginary zapping powers.

Around the priestess' neck is a bronze medallion emblazoned with the same jagged symbol they saw carved onto the back of the ixitx cleric they rescued from the vrocks. A downward crescent struck through with a sharp line, with four horned protrusions on either side of the crescent's curves. Holding the amulet conveys a vague sense of unease.

There are two glass vials of water around the fish priestess' waist, along with two spell scrolls stored in waterproofed cases.

*Spoiler: Search Loot*
Show

1 Unidentified Kuo-Toa Scepter
1 Unholy Symbol
2 Vials of Water
*Spoiler: Religion DC 12*
Show

The substance inside of the vials is Unholy Water. If an undead, an abyssal aberration (including ixitx) or a fiend (including tieflings) drinks the contents, they receive a combat high that grants them Advantage on their attack rolls for 2 rounds. It can also be used as a component in the Protection from Evil and Good spell, in place of Holy Water.
Celestials splashed with the water take 5 damage, and their Resistances are nullified for 1 round.

1 Scroll of Mass Cure Wounds
1 Scroll of Shield of Faith


"Abfter you ask her anyding you need to, we will blbring her away from here. She won'd be able do indterrupt your plans," Shuushar reminds from the sidelines. Blindfolding the priestess would be as simple as a piece of cloth, should they wish to awaken her and question her.

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

Faedryl quietly files away the in her bags for future reference - no doubt they'd have time to investigate them later. Taking a moment she tears off a piece of cloth from the priestess' clothing and binds it tightly around her eyes, before doing the same with a portion of (generously donated) rope from Shuushar's master. "Derendil, you may wish to hold her in place, and be ready to strike if she acts up," she advises, before nodding to Nilvae - the wordy half-elf could do the talking.

----------


## purepolarpanzer

*Prince Derendil*
Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer
AC: 17 HP: 32/32
0 Temp HP
PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Sanity 10
Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp)
Concentrating on:
HD:1/1 D12, 3/3 D6 
Spell Slots- 2/3 1st, 2/2 2nd 

Derendil nods his head in agreement with Faedryl's analysis, placing firm hands on the priestess' arms and locking them to her side, ready to administer a painful clawed squeeze should she prove trouble. "I believe I have her held securely. A blindfold would be an excellent idea. If she cannot see us, she cannot cast divine demonwrought spells on us. Or atleast, conventional wisdom indicates this. You can never be quite sure with kuo toa worship and chaotic demon energies involved."

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

Restrained and blindfolded, the fish priestess is shaken awake. She makes groggy, pained burbling noises. Once some lucidity begins to return to her, she pulls against Derendil's grip, resulting in a press of claws against scales to remind why this is a bad idea. *"Cretins!"* the kuo-toa shouts at them. *"You bwill suffer bbrl wrath obf my lord!"*

Bound, blinded and divested of her unholy mark there is little that Blopp can do to them with her demonic magic save shout barely coherent threats. Her initial bluster falters when continued attempts to break free from Derendil's iron grip fail, and her god does not smite them dead before her. *"Whadt do you wand from me?"* she finally asks - or rather demands.

----------


## Spore

*Nilvae | Eye-Gore*
Half-Elf Warlock | Lamp Blighter
AC: 15 HP: 29/29| AC 13 HP: 12/12
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) | PP: 11 PIv: 10 PIs: 13 
Conditions: Beast Speech 
Concentration:  -

You just have to vanish for a time, idiot. The Underdark is overrun with demons, so you joined them, huh? Why replace your old gods with new demonic overlords, idjit? Nilvae snarks.

----------


## RandomWombat

*The Beach Hut*

Bristling at being derided as an idiot, the fish woman bares her sharp teeth, frills flipping open and quivering. *"You spbleak width the tongue obf a foreigner. The one who sbilled butter all over my head lige a giggling hadchling. How I tire blubf ledding your kind walgk all over us, tread us like less dan peoble. And my fadder jusd bends obver and led it happen."* Blopp does not speak with the same religious devotion and energy with which she shouted before, and in front of the crowds in Sloobludop. Her words are steady, in spite of the bizarre kuo-toa vocal quirks making it hard to take her seriously.

Raising her head, Blopp 'looks' in the direction of Nilvae's voice through the blindfolds. Her mouth curls into a defiant sneer. *"The Planes of Chaos are malleable. The more dere energy profuses de Underdark, bluh more powahful my peobles' ferbor becomes. When demons destroy bloor sociedies, I will guide my peoble to rule de ashes."*

*"An all too common delushion of demon worshipers,"* Sloop speaks from behind her, and the fish woman's head twists around to try and look at him, making an angry hiss.

*"The smardt one. Knew bloo were too clever do led live. Now you blbring foreigners to do de dirty work and deblose me?"* Blopp spits back at him angrily.

*"On the contrary. My apprentish and I advocated for them to shpare your life and leave you in our cushtody,"* he answers calmly, remaining seated in his place. 

"Our peobles' future is importandt to us, blbut dis is all wrong," Shuushar shakes his head in disappointment, despite her being unable to see it.

Turning her head back forward, Blopp snarls at the ground. *"I'll slit your blamn droats, traidors."*

----------


## Amnestic

*Faedryl Melad*
Drow Hexblade/Evoker
AC: 17 HP: 28/28
PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 (10)
Conditions: --
Concentrating: --

"You have no power, no weapons, and are at our mercy - threatening to slit your captors throats seems a bit empty." Faedryl offers. "We would be rid of this town and leave your people in peace, but it seems only fair we receive a reward for your life. Tell us what valuables you own and where they are kept, and we will allow you to leave with these _traitors_ you do despise - your life intact."



*Spoiler: OOC*
Show


There's no way Faedryl's charisma rolls stay bad, right?
Persuasion: (1d20+1)[*9*]

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