The Black Shingle Fiasco

[Marlowe]

Avita, biting back a touch of irritation, gives Sycarus a nod, and steps around to help the gnome lower the rope and pull the Dwarf up. She's a little tired to care about being hypersuspicious at this stage.

[YossarianLives]

A gnome throws down the rope, and holds it while the dwarf shimmies up. Once he has caught his breath, the dwarf sits up, smiling behind a thick, black beard. "My name is Duhlmil Blackaxe. Pleased to meet ye'." There is a second of silence, as the gnomes size up the newcomer, and the dwarf, Duhlmil, takes in the people surrounding him. A drow, a demonspawn, a woman who looks slightly more skeletal than is entirely natural, an aasimar warrior and, of course, Sarim. "Hello brother," the dwarf says nastily. "It's been too long."

[Bartmanhomer]

A gnome throws down the rope, and holds it while the dwarf shimmies up. Once he has caught his breath, the dwarf sits up, smiling behind a thick, black beard. "My name is Duhlmil Blackaxe. Pleased to meet ye'." There is a second of silence, as the gnomes size up the newcomer, and the dwarf, Duhlmil, takes in the people surrounding him. A drow, a demonspawn, a woman who looks slightly more skeletal than is entirely natural, an aasimar warrior and, of course, Sarim. "Hello brother," the dwarf says nastily. "It's been too long."

"Hi. My name is Eric Spade. Nice to meet you Duhlmil."

[Marlowe]

Avita hands the rope to the pikeman, mutters a quiet thanks, and quietly pushes the table back into position. "Blackaxe", she says tonelessly. And then, in a low voice; "been an excessively eventful day. Good to see you."

She flicks a glance to Sarim, to the newcomer, and back again.

[YossarianLives]

Duhlmil shakes Eric's hand heartily, head bobbing, a greasy smile spread across his face. The dwarf exchanges a long, silent, look with Sarim, before plopping uninvited onto a stool. The gnomes shuffle their feet, clearly consternated at the stranger's boldness. Ygor still hasn't woken up. "So, why'd ye' leave us ta' die??" says Duhlmil, as if politely inquiring as to why you were absent from dinner. The dwarf hasn't noticed Brin, and the young demonspawn seems intent on keeping it that way. He squats quietly in a corner, immensely interested in his fingernails.

[Marlowe]

Avita counts to ten inside her head, glancing down at her quiver where four arrows rattle in a lonely fashion, then looking around the wounded Gnomes in the room. Then says quietly; "I'm not entirely sure if the -what is it? Five of us? - that are unwounded would have made much of a difference, clambering down the wall on a rope into THAT frustercluck. If there was anything meaningful we could have done, we would have done it."

She takes a step forward. "And how did you make it here? Past the little horrors? And do you think there any others out there?" And how did YOU survive, is what she wants to ask, but decides not to be too accusatory right now.

[Kushina43]

"Brother Duhlmil.." Sarim says, doing his best to keep the mildest disdain out of his voice. "I never expected t' see you here. Last I heard ya'd been makin' ends meet as a sellsword.." He tries to think of where he'd heard, then shakes his head "I dunno, somewhere 'cross th' continent." He crosses his arms. "What brings ya, then?"

[YossarianLives]

Duhlmil the dwarf shakes his head, hands on his knees. "Don't change th' fact tha' I lost close on a hundred comrades today." Another shake of his head, a sigh. "Played dead, I did. Wretched creatures ain't very bright. "Spose it'd be on account a'them not havin' eyes. Waited 'till nightfall, then crawled over 'ere." He slumps in his stool. "It's good ta' see you to, brother," says Duhlmil, though his heart does not seem to be in it. "We'd 'eard the City States, Senra, paid well, an' needed 'elp. Didn't think it'd end like this - thought we'd be battlin' bandits or rebels."

He pauses to scratch his beard. "Wha's ta' stop tha,' whatever brought those creatures 'ere, from appenin' again? Wha' if they appear in this tower?"

[Marlowe]

Avita raises her eyebrow. "They did appear in this tower. Lower floor. About thirty seconds after we wrecked the ladder. Good timing there. Now-" She drums her fingers together in front of her chest, skeletal right digits clicking against gauntleted ones. "I shan't interrupt this family reunion. And if we're to have a chance of breaking out tomorrow I'm going to need some sleep."

She darts a look at Andras. "Blue-Eyes, I hate to impose on you; but you're in the best shape out of most of us right now, so I'll have to ask you to take this watch. I should be able to relieve you sometime in the small hours. Adept Sycarus, I suggest you get some rest too."

Turning to the Gnomes; "I have no authority to tell you what to do." A brief look at Ygor's sleeping form makes it quite clear what she thinks of an officer who goes to sleep without setting watches. "I'm going to have to trust that you can sleep in shifts and be trusted to relieve one another. Sarim and our new friend seem to have some catching up to do. Cottonbud-" her gauntleted fingers flick outward, and her jaw briefly sets, "-does not matter."

She curls up on the upturned table, amid the bloodstained Hybrid leathers, setting her bow next to her. "I expect to wake up refreshed, fit for action, and not dead. Please try to arrange that this can be so."

[YossarianLives]

Duhlmil looks ready to make a snappy retort, but seems to realize that arguing will, at this point, achieve very little. He mutters a few words about having had a long day, then removes his armour and settles to the ground, not meeting Sarim's eye - indeed, he seems somewhat resentful when Andras casts a spell of healing on his brother the Dworc. Soon the others have joined him, all but Andras, who takes watch, making themselves as comfortable as possible. Which is not very, considering the circumstances. Soon, the lanterns are extinguished and you drift into an uneasy sleep, lulled by the endless beating of the Zaghifd's drums.

Andras takes the first few, lonely hours of the watch, watching the Children mingle below, and the fires burning in the distance. As midnight approaches, it grows steadily colder, a chill wind blowing in off the coast. It comes as a relief when one of the gnomes comes to take her place, and Andras joins the others in sleep. Your dreams are shadowy, indistinct, and when you are jolted from sleep by screams of pain, all memory of them slips away. When you have dragged yourself out of bed, you find one of the gnomish soldiers who was injured in yesterday's conflicts lying in a pool of his own blood, clutching at a fresh stab wound and moaning. Sycarus hurries over, muttering an incantation under his breath, and lays his hands to the wound. There is a flash of light, and the wound knits itself back together, the guardsman subsiding into sleep once again. The other gnomes shuffle around, talking in low, distressed, tones amongst themselves, trying to discover what happened. A few shoot nasty looks in Brin's direction, though the youthful demonspawn has not yet extricated himself from his blanket. Sycarus gives you a meaningful nod, raising one eyebrow.

When the blood has been cleaned up, you take stock of the situation. It is early morning, perhaps six or seven o'clock, and the Zaghifd outside have still not had the good grace to disperse. Perhaps twenty-five of them still remain, prancing ceaselessly around, banging their infernal drums. The corpses of countless more lie scattered around. The sun rises red and raw, shrouded by belching smoke from the fires, which fills the sky with shades of grey and black. Otherwise, the ruined city is still and quiet.

When you return to the second floor, Ygor and the other guardsmen have gathered in a loose huddle. Duhlmil stands awkwardly with them, not quite part of the group, while Brin seems happy to not be included. The sergeant waves you over, and you notice a small map clutched in his hands, which he shoves in your direction. "You've had your rest - we're cutting our way out of this tower whether you come with us or not. If the army's been routed, there's no point holding this place, and I reckon what we've seen here will be great interest to High Command". He starts to say something, notices Brin's presence, and falls silent. "Thoughts on our route?"

Spoiler: Ygor's Map

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Spoiler: OOC

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With another eight hours of rest, you all regain 3 more hit points and all of your lovely spell slots.

[wkwkwkwk1]

"Avita," Andras motions to talk to her in private, still shaking off the remnants of a poor night's sleep.

"That wounded gnome. Reminds you of a certain lieutenant Sayth with a cursed wound?"

[Marlowe]

"Of course it is the same condition", Avita purrs. "Which is why we need to break out of here WITH those runic spears. See that someone is carrying them. And as for cutting-" she snaps a glance at Ygor. "-I reck we can get rid of that lot a little more easily than that. It's a chance worth the chancing anyway."

She crosses to the parapet, looking down on the gaggle of Handymen below, and chants under her breath. Wings of the night? Teeth of the gutter? No.

Eyes of the Earth.

Spreading her arms, she summons a Spider Swarm as close to the Zanghrd as she can, and continues to concentrate as it hopefully attacks them.

Spoiler: Spider swarm

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Weapon immune.
Poison
Injury, Fortitude DC 11, initial and secondary damage 1d3 Str. The save DC is Constitution-based.


Distraction (Ex)
Any living creature that begins its turn with a spider swarm in its space must succeed on a DC 11 Fortitude save or be nauseated for 1 round. The save DC is Constitution-based.

Damage
(1d6)[5]
(1d6)[3]
(1d6)[1]
(1d6)[3]

[She could be at this for a while.

Ygor's map's not showing

EDIT: In fact, opening the map in a new tab got me this:
]

[YossarianLives]

Ygor looks doubtful, but nods and follows Avita to the tower's edge. As she works the spell of summoning, his expression swiftly changes to surprise, then approval, as thousands of tiny spiders pop into this dimension, crawling over the Zaghifd. At first, the little demons try to fight back, swiping at the arachnids with their head-claw, but the futility of this soon becomes apparent: for every spider squashed, ten more take its place. Panic begins to set in among them, some fleeing into the city while others continue to flail violently. Within the span of minute, all the Children have been buried under a mound of scuttling spiders or driven far away.

Ygor gives a tentative "Good work," clears his throat, and proffers the map once more.

Spoiler: The map, for real this time

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[Marlowe]

"Was kind of hoping they'd reinforce themselves until I'd killed every one in the city." says Avita cheerfully as she heads back down the ladder. "Wouldn't that be points for efficiency? Oh well, later business. Brin! you're coming back with us. Please help with Marion. You're both getting back alive or there'll be Words."

She gives a quick look around the loft. "As for the route, is there something wrong with "straight back the way we came?" Simple, direct, known hazards. If someone's got a new and exciting other suggestion then let's hear it."

[Bartmanhomer]

"Well that was quick. I can't think of any suggestions at this point. Maybe Sarin or Andras got some better suggestions. I wonder what happen to the rod-bearer demon?"

[Marlowe]

Avita decides the silence has gone on long enough.

"So if nobody has any brilliant ideas, we go back the way we came. And we mind that open drain we passed, now we know the enemy's coming from the underground. And we don't mess with or go near the patch of the square that went all organic.

"Now, has somebody grabbed those cursed spears?" The events of yesterday have convinced her that there are worse habits than repeating oneself.

Such as NOT repeating oneself when asking something important and then watching as everyone else ignores the issue.

"We'll be needing to get them back that somebody can figure out a way to undo their curse.
Adept Sycarus? If you could go in the middle with Marion, Brin, and the crossbows? Sergeant, please take the rear with the pikemen and keep everyone moving. I suppose we'll be taking the lead."

She sits on the edge of the hatchway down to the ground, swinging her legs over the edge, preparing to drop. "So unless there's something really urgent to discuss, shall we get going before trouble comes along?"

[YossarianLives]

Gathering your possessions - the cursed spears are carried between two gnomes - you drop down from the broken stairs and set off into Black Shingle, the rising sun casting everything in shadow. Though some of the soldiers were able to recover most of their strength after a night of rest, the wounds of others were too dire; rather than burden yourself with carrying the wounded, Sycarus elects to heal the three gnomes that were still unconscious. They are still far from peak, fighting condition, but even in their disorientated state, they can hold a sword. The unfortunate gnome with the cursed wound stumbles along in a daze, casting wild looks around him and jumping at shadows.

In Avita's suggested formation - your party in the front, followed by Sycarus, Marion and Brin, the crossbowmen, then Ygor and his pikemen in the rear - you pick your way across the field of corpses, careful not to trip on the slippery cobblestones or trip on dropped weapons. Carrion birds drawn by the ample supply of meat fill the air. The going is slow, but soon you break free from the battlefield and start along the road, back the way you came. The city is just as empty as the last time you passed through it, but bears all the hallmark signs of a furious battle: fresh corpses, both demonic and clad in the uniforms of Senrish Guards, discarded weapons, fires smouldering in the skeletal remains of houses. The gnomes are silent, soberly observing the devastation of their home. Yet, for all the evidence that points to yesterday's bloodshed, you are able to pass unhindered. The only demons you see are more of the colourful scout-demons, soaring high above the ruined buildings.

Then, you reach the gates of Senra. They have been torn open as if by an enormous hand, and now lay on the ground, the thick metal bent into waves. Smoke billows from the now-empty archway, beyond which is another open square, and the city itself. Corpses cover the ground - some demons, but far more of the guardsmen in blue and gold. The wall is unmanned, but there is a small gatehouse just beyond it, which seems to still have its door locked and intact. A gasp of horror washes over the gnomes, and several draw their weapons, their eyes searching the nearby houses - perhaps due to their proximity with the wall, they are nearly untouched by fire and battle damage. Anyone, or anything, could easily conceal itself in them, and the gnomes seem to have realized this.

[Marlowe]

Avita runs a finger across her cheekbone and down to her jaw. "Don't like this. Need to get the wounded to safety before we start walking into trouble..." She gives the wall a dark look and shucks her backpack around to her side, then fishes out her rope and grapple.

"Sarim", she proffers the grappling hook, rope attached. "If you could, please cast this up to the wall and then get up there. You've got the strength to pull the rest of us up." She turns and points to the Gnome that helped up the Dwarf the previous evening. "And you're going up next, because you've got another rope. Then it's the crossbows to cover us, then the wounded, Brin, Marion,
Sycarus, Uncle Tom Codley and all.

The rest of us fit to fight go up last, just in case someone jumps us. And keep hold of those spears if you have to hold them in your teeth! Once we're on the wall, we can find someone with some clue what's going on"

[YossarianLives]

After tying the rope and grappling hook together, Sarim gives it good toss toward the wall... and misses. Nevertheless, he is able to recover it and after a couple more tries, the hook is firmly lodged on the ramparts. Using the wall for support, the Dworc is able to scramble up the rope, and he scales the wall in good time. After ten minutes, the rest of your party has joined him. From there, forty feet above the city streets, you can survey the situation; the wall stretches in both directions for half a mile or more, completely deserted, other than a handful of slain gnomes strewn across the walkway. There are no ladders, rams, damages to the wall, or any of the other signs of a siege. The city beyond the wall - Senra - is a different story. Much of the city is aflame despite the recent rain, and the streets are filled with demons, gnomish soldiers, and fleeing civilians. The terror and death is monumental, entire families run down in the streets by fiery, ravening hounds, the Guardsmen helpless to save them. In the clouds, what look like giant, metallic insects maneuver around ugly, purple birds the size of horses, locked in some sort of aerial duel.

Nearby, a stairway leads down from the wall, into the city. With the advantage of height, you can see the square in its entirety. Only one short day ago, it was the parade ground for Senra's finest - now it is a battlefield. A squadron of ten gnomish soldiers are fighting a desperate battle against nearly twice their number in hybrids, who are supported by a dog with flaming fur. Down an alley, you can see two more gnomes in street clothes fleeing from a squat, green demon with unnaturally long forearms. Most of the gnomes with you gasp in horror, though Sycarus seems to be only moderately anxious. Duhlmil draws his battleaxe, and raises an eyebrow in Sarim's direction, before looking eagerly to the ensuing battle below.

You remember that the Apple Bush, the barracks you have been staying at, is no more than a five minute walk away - however, the street leading there seems to have been blocked by some sort of massive steel contraption. It takes you a moment to realize that it is one of the insectoid aircrafts, the wings punctured in a dozen places and its windows shattered.

Spoiler: OOC

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Sarim failed his skill check to throw the rope, but since you aren't in immediate danger, I'm going to say you can just take 10. His bonus is high enough to automatically climb the rope.

Also, a quick map to make things more clear. The red dot to the left represents your party.

It may just be the sloppiest one I've done so far.

[Marlowe]

Avita grins, thin dark lips curling away from set teeth. "Right...it's like Knowledge Religion 203 all over again...well, we'd better get going and play heroes." She looks over the Gnomes of Ygor's squad, many of them still wounded. "Anyone not feeling up for a brawl, grab a crossbow and stay on the wall. Provide some cover fire. Brin, stay with them. Guard them. Guard Marion. Rest of us-"

She heads for the stairs. "Let's get down there and help out. Preferably not me first."

[wkwkwkwk1]

Andras grasps her glaive tighter, flexing her knuckles. "Let's do this."

She grabs her glowing holy symbol, and soft golden light surrounds the party. Then, she marches downstairs behind Duhlmil, glaive ready to strike.

Spoiler: OOC

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Casting bless on the whole group. +1 attack for everyone. Yay for area spells!

[Kushina43]

Sarim follows Andras, starting to pull out his own glaive, but then glances at Duhlmil and grunts a bit before putting it away and instead pulling out his mighty axe.

[YossarianLives]

Drawing weapons, your party marches down the stairway and heads for the ongoing conflict below - Ygor and four of his gnomes join you, along with Brin and Duhlmil. The others remain back on the wall, the four crossbowmen sending disciplined volleys toward the gaggle of demons.

As you charge across the square, dodging corpses, feet pounding on the cobblestones, the hybrids turn to notice you. A cheer goes up from the beleaguered gnomes, and for a moment, the demons seem uncertain. Then, you come crashing into their battle lines, and such sentiments are lost in the chaos of war. The hybrids themselves are much as you remember from previous engagements; lithe creatures that combine insect and reptile, they come at you without hesitation, swinging curved swords, clacking their mandibles hungrily, compound eyes bulging in what you can guess to be rage.

At first, your assault goes as smoothly as one could hope - the hybrids are caught off guard, compelled to divide their forces to stave off both your party and the embattled Senrish squadron. Two pikemen go in hot and suffer minor wounds, but they hold fast. Then the flaming hound arrives. Standing taller than the gnomes, it is a loathsome being, resembling a terrestrial dog on only the most superficial level. Its claws are long and sharp, its malicious eyes a deep red. As it disengages from gnomes and bounds across the square towards you, fire dances along its ragged fur and sparks fly from its paws. It leaps through the air, over the gnome's lowered pikes, and lands right in front of Sergeant Ygor - the man barely has time to draw his sword before the hound is upon him, tearing chunks of flesh from his arm with its teeth.

Spoiler: OOC

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Sorry for the long wait, been busy.

There are 18 hybrids, supported by a single doggo. 9 of them and said doggo are attacking your party, while the others work to finish off the gnomes you are trying to rescue. The enemy won initiative, attacked, and it is now your turn.

Don't forget the +1 to hit from Andras' bless!

[Bartmanhomer]

Drawing weapons, your party marches down the stairway and heads for the ongoing conflict below - Ygor and four of his gnomes join you, along with Brin and Duhlmil. The others remain back on the wall, the four crossbowmen sending disciplined volleys toward the gaggle of demons.

As you charge across the square, dodging corpses, feet pounding on the cobblestones, the hybrids turn to notice you. A cheer goes up from the beleaguered gnomes, and for a moment, the demons seem uncertain. Then, you come crashing into their battle lines, and such sentiments are lost in the chaos of war. The hybrids themselves are much as you remember from previous engagements; lithe creatures that combine insect and reptile, they come at you without hesitation, swinging curved swords, clacking their mandibles hungrily, compound eyes bulging in what you can guess to be rage.

At first, your assault goes as smoothly as one could hope - the hybrids are caught off guard, compelled to divide their forces to stave off both your party and the embattled Senrish squadron. Two pikemen go in hot and suffer minor wounds, but they hold fast. Then the flaming hound arrives. Standing taller than the gnomes, it is a loathsome being, resembling a terrestrial dog on only the most superficial level. Its claws are long and sharp, its malicious eyes a deep red. As it disengages from gnomes and bounds across the square towards you, fire dances along its ragged fur and sparks fly from its paws. It leaps through the air, over the gnome's lowered pikes, and lands right in front of Sergeant Ygor - the man barely has time to draw his sword before the hound is upon him, tearing chunks of flesh from his arm with its teeth.

Spoiler: OOC

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Sorry for the long wait, been busy.

There are 18 hybrids, supported by a single doggo. 9 of them and said doggo are attacking your party, while the others work to finish off the gnomes you are trying to rescue. The enemy won initiative, attacked, and it is now your turn.

Don't forget the +1 to hit from Andras' bless!

"Really?"

Eric used his shortbow and attack the hybrid.

Attack: (1d20+4)[14]
Damage: (1d6)[2]

Critical:

Attack: (1d20+4)[24]
Damage: (3d6)[10]

[Marlowe]

Avita's right hand seethes black as she tries to land a blow on the dog's flank. "OUT, damned Spot!" she shouts obscurely.

Spoiler: Charnal Touch

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She'll try to get a flank but if it's not possible it's not possible.
To-hit (touch)(1d20+3)[17]
Damage (1d8+1)[6]

Spoiler: Crit confirm if required

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Confirm (1d20+3)[21]
Extra Damage (1d8+1)[9]

[YossarianLives]

Avita dodges around the hybrids, and moves in for a flank, hand bristling with dark energies - she strikes true, and her target recoils, hissing in fury, then turns to face the necromancer, sword singing. Avita's duck is too slow, and the curved blade bites into her shoulder. Sarim, wielding an axe almost larger than himself, gets stuck in, splitting a hybrid in half with one mighty swing. Andras is not so lucky, she charges the nearest hybrid, glaive lowered, but it notices and raises its shield in time to deflect the blow. The demon gives her something approximating a smug grin, before striking back and subsequently missing. Seeing their leader in danger, two of the pikemen detach from the hybrids and run to Ygor's aid - only for one to take a sword to the back and go down, bleeding. The other spares hardly a glance for her fallen comrade and jabs at the flaming hound, missing. The other guardsmen hold fast, slashing with their short swords, with little result. Brin squares off with one hybrid, neither achieving a hit, while Duhlmil joins his brother in the thick of combat. Only, his axe ends up buried uselessly in a hybrid's shield. Growling in frustration, the dwarf braces for a counterattack which proves even less productive than his own swing. Recovering from the shock, Ygor lays about the hound with his sword, driving it back with a series of determined blows.

Eric, standing back from the wild melee, adds his arrow to the crossbowmen's barrage. While he does not hit, the gnomes are not much better, scoring only a single hit on a hybrid.

Spoiler: OOC

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Avita takes 4 damage, accounting for DR. Your turn.

[Marlowe]

Avita feels a strange moment of uncertainty, as though someone had and at the same time not hit her with a sword, but she continues her attention on the Hellish-Flaming-Dog-Thing. "Heel!" she shouts, striking out again with Charnal Touch.

Spoiler: Charnal Touch

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I'm pretty sure I can get a flank now.
To hit (touch)(1d20+5)[17]
Damage (1d8+1)[4]

Spoiler: Critty stuff

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Confirm (1d20+5)[9]
ExtraDam (1d8+1)[9]

[Bartmanhomer]

Eric get his shortsword while he was holding his shortbow. Eric attack the demon hybrid with his shortsword.

Attack: (1d20+4)[9]
Damage: (1d6+2)[3]

Critical:

Attack: (1d20+4)[19]
Damage: (2d6+2)[9]

[YossarianLives]

Ygor, Avita, and one of the gnome's surround the hound, whittling away at it with a combination of swords and magic - soon, it falls to the road with a whimper, dead, its fire heading in the same direction. Ygor gives a nod of thanks, then turns to join his soldiers in battling the hybrids.

Meanwhile, Eric draws his sword and runs forward to join the melee, missing, but drawing a hybrid's attention, it snarls and stabs it's blade at his chest, making contact, but not penetrating Eric's chain mail coat. Sarim flows into another swing with his axe, claiming the life of another hybrid, just as Andras removes the fingers of yet one more. Disarmed and bleeding, the maimed demon tries to retreat, only to be thoroughly perforated by a volley of bolts. Driven on by his brother's feats, Dulhmil fights like a madman, but still fails to achieve a hit - indeed, the dwarf slips on a pool of blood and nearly drops his axe. Brin, still locked in a duel, gives his opponent a good slash across the chest, only to have Ygor sneak around to the hybrid's side and sink his blade into it's rear.

The hybrids strike back, recognizing Sarim as the greatest threat in such close-quarters. The dworc suffers a slash across the forearm, then a shallow jab to the hip. Neither are life-threatening, but they certainly sting - seeing his younger brother's predicament, Dulhmil reluctantly begins work his way over to Sarim's side, doing everything he can to stave off the demonic assault.

Spoiler: OOC

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Sarim takes 12 damage! It is now your turn.

[Bartmanhomer]

"Sarim! You pay for that, demonic scum!"

Eric attack the demon hybrid with his shortsword.

Attack: (1d20+4)[8]
Damage: (1d6+2)[8]

Critical:

Attack: (1d20+4)[17]
Damage: (2d6+2)[6]