Re: Chapter Three

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Osvald Hale' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 20

--------------------------------

#2 'D20' : 5

[Artimus DeLonde]

The heat of the hurled plume of flame warmed Artimus' face as it sailed by, a stern warning of this infernal beast’s power.
A daunting flood of adrenaline gushed through his veins as every inch of his skin became taught and hyper sensitive.  His pupil's dilated fervently as they begged the blackened attacker with the fiery eyes to come into focus
It refused.

The Devil resisted, it was not of this place. It vilified the very air around it.

It needed not conform to the will of man.

The flame pushed his footing back from an advancing pose, his left foot rolling from toe to heel and his right shifting back in tandem.
The Mariner was already cursing his hasty charge, he was like a hunger stricken man who's bitten off more than his mouth could possibly masticate.

Before his boot could find its new footing the otherworldly shifting of the winged demon shifted in his direction. Artimus moved to defend and the Demon moved in-- impossibly, without respect to laws of space time.
Con check. Passed!

Artimus' edge danced desperately deflecting the swipes of the creature, each cleave narrowly missing it's mark, stifled by the ebony rapier. Until one swipe made it's mark on his forarm. He winced hard as his vision went all white, his mind reeled as his flesh challenged the demonic vengeance.

Artimus wheeled back one step after the next attempting to disengage the pitched battle against the onslaught. He had not even felt the flames when the douse of water cooled his skin. Kellar's rally embolded Artimus in the face of vile darkness.

His senses begged him to turn and run.  Steeling his will Artimus fought with a purpose---- not best the creature, but to bring it to a standstill.
===================================

Expend swordsman dice to attempt reaction parry as bonus action,
1d20+3 to parry (1d8+6dmg)
1d20 CON +2
1d20+0 to hit (1d8+6dmg)  I'm not sure if there are any rules for defensive fighting , I propose I give up the plus 3 for some AC,  I leave it up to AO

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Artimus DeLonde' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 11, 18, 10

[Ao]

Shorjahl’s magical missiles sizzle through the smoke and falling tinder, crashing into the face of the old, red-robed mage. His wide-eyed expression betrays bewilderment and fear, as the elderly wizard is flung backward into a bookshelf, a cascade of thick-spined tomes and leather-bound scrolls flying into the air.

He lands upon the ground, motionless.

The demon extends his enormous bat wings, obscuring Osvald’s allies from the rangers view as another ball of flame materializes at its fingertips. It flails its head about, seemingly randomly, firing the searing-hot projectile toward the door-way.

[Hurl flame vs. Custer; missed]

The halfling just barely manages to evade the inferno, as a searing wave of fire washes across the entrance in which he seeks cover.

Now, the flames catch upon the woodwork doorframe, creating a burning, violent wreath that enshrouds the entryway.

[Custer, the doorway (to downstairs) that you’re taking cover in is on fire! If you stay this turn, you’ll take 1D10 fire damage. You can either head back downstairs, or come into the main room without cover!]

The beast groans devilishly, the sound of a hundred different screams echoing across the demonic plains. Its tongue laps from out its mouth, as it turns to Kellar from whence the lance sprung.

With a shudder, it leaps towards him.

[Devil snare vs. Kellar; missed]

The devils mouth closes upon Kellar’s sheild, it’s monstrous arms coming round to rend his flesh…

The fury in its eyes is both burning, and distant.

=================================

Ok guys, the demon turned its attention to Kellar this round. Typical bad Ao rolls -.- a “2” and a “6”? Wtf is that shit? Seriously? DEMONS, man. Gragh.

Artimus, get your character sheet up before I have to keel you on an abstraction

Custer, get out the doorway bra. Or suffer D10 damage per turn, mang.

EXP: +20 to each of y’all dirty apes

[Dwan Bolduum]

Sweat grows on Dwan's brow as he is taking cover behind his shield. He waits a few moments, as flashes of orange and red illuminate the walls of the tower. A cry cuts through the whooshing of flame and Dwan looks up to see the Artimus retreating back as his shirt sleeve appears to have singed off and deep rends of cauterized flesh show in the absence. The wounds appear as if glowing coals on the fire and are slowly spreading across his arm.

Artimus! But before Dwan is able to vault over his cover to get Artimus out of harm's way Kellar jumps to Artimus's side to help cover the retreat. The water that he pours on Artimus's wound steams and quickly evaporates but it appears to have extinguished the glow from Artimus's wound.

A few more shots sink into the demon but the bolts bolts and arrows catch flame nearly the moment they touch the fell beast. The flames grow hotter, Dwan sees the beams above and the top of doorway where Custer has hidden are fully ablaze. The upholstered chair he has hidden behind ignites from the radiating heat.

TAKE IT DOWN! Dwan calls to his comrades as he rolls away from his chair to a flanking position of the demon. Dwan moves the beam of light once more to focus on the demon, engulfing it in pale flame.

As the beam falls on the demon once more, Dwan is able to see Shorjahl pummeling the unconscious mage with more magic. Shorjahl! Dwan shouts across the room What are you doing? This demon is going to kill us if the flames don't first.

[Custer Thickett]

Custer dives forward through the door away from the flames.  He rolls forward on the floor, and darts past Kellar and Artimus straight for the broken window.  [Cuss uses Cunning Action to disengage as moving.]

Cuss eyes the table beneath the broken window.  Too far...  He turns his head and glances back to the demon.  Can't make it.  

Cuss stops over the body of the fallen Wizard, and turns back to face the fight, his feet set to dive away from another fireball.  [Cuss moves 25 feet and then uses dodge.]  

Cuss yells over his shoulder to Shorjahl, "Throw em out the window, yeah?"

====
Moved to the fallen Wizard en route to the broken window.  Room is 30 feet so I assumed my 25 speed wouldn't get me there without dash.  Used dodge instead. Attacks against Cuss have disadvantage.

[Shorjahl]

Shorjahl looks incredulous at how easy it was to dispatch the old wizard. Chest heaving, he sees Cuss dive to the man and ask whether to throw him out the window. The young arcanist has an insane, zealous look on his face, mouth agape, ragged breaths emanating from him as swirls of fire and energy surround him. "What?! No! I need him!" He turns his attention to the demon, running to a position so that Bargerohn can see his former apprentice.

"Master! I will free you from this curse! But you need to fight! Fight it!" He points a packed bullet of energy at the medallion draped around the creature's neck and muscular shoulders, hoping to knock it off and potentially free Bargerohn from his demonic attunement.

------------------

Cantrip Force Bolt at the thingy. I'll roll twice, assuming I have disadvantage.
14 Attack to hit the medallion, just trying to "disarm" him with it.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Shorjahl' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 13, 9

--------------------------------

#2 'D10' : 3

[Artimus DeLonde]

Artimus eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped as the projectiles conjured by Shorjahl slammed into the defenceless red wizard. He himself was no conjurer, but he knew that spell rarely missed it's mark.

"Zweet Zeven EyeZ of Zelune!" He exclaimed in shock.
"What in the nine hellz are you doing? Are you in league wizh zhiz beazt! Zhiz Zhing iz not your mazter!"  Artimus shouted the tone anger and confusion clear in his exclamation.

Artimus executed a Balestra pattern of foot work. Circling the hellion, placing the devil between himself and Shorjahl as he searched for a reason to this lunacy.  Had the darkness that loomed over the frail man taken his mind, had he cracked under the pressure? Was he sided with these dark forces in earnest... no  Artimus wouldn't allow that thought of betrayal guide his actions.

There might be a reason for this irrational behaviour, The mage had been the difference between victory and failure before. He had bought himself some good will.

As Cormyrian swordsman moved the the abominations back he beat a pattern of strikes, to the back it's neck , knees and armpits hoping strike a vital blow on this strange adversary. the devils flesh ripped and reared at the serpentine strikes.

The Mariner searched the room for a carpet to beat out the flames that were climbing the walls, or water to douse it.
======
1d20 to hit HIT
1d20 perception

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Artimus DeLonde' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 18, 12

[Osvald Hale]

Another burst of infernal heat leapt from the demon, and the ranger leapt back into the hallway. Cuss disappeared in a roil of flame, and Osvald was again forced to shield his face against the heat pouring from the room. The temperature differential was causing a back draft of wind to whip up the stair well, and Osvald's cloak billowed around him in the shimmering, intense light.

He was cut off, the flames engorged the doorway completely in moments--fed into roaring life by the gaining wind, growing exponentially under their own momentum.

Osvald spits a curse at the demon, flecks of his spit incinerating to nothing before they hit the floor, sweat dropping in torrents from his forehead. His feet began to burn through his boots. The flames grew higher.

The ranger turns, Sprinting up the stairs toward the third floor--looking for something, anything, to help his friends.

Between deep, gasping breaths, the ranger prays...

=====

Okay, Ao, I had pictured Osvald having remained in a firing position beside Cuss, So I'm rolling with the Demon's fire attack on the Door affecting both of us.

Osvald is going to book it upstairs looking for anything that may help before the whole tower goes up in flames. Specifically, any magical looking implements (be they weapons or otherwise), windows, tapestries, a pitcher of water beside a bed, anything. If you want to paint a quick first impression picture of what he see on the third floor in your post, I'll move forward with that.

Rolling perception to help! 9 + 4 = 13

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Osvald Hale' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 9

[Kellar]

Kellar struggled with the Demon leaping toward him and gnawing on his shield. Blasted Demon! he shouted as felt the arms about to close in on him. He adjusted his positioning, dropped his lance and grabbed for the Demon's arms!

Actions:
Kellar attempts to grapple the Demon Grapple Roll= 10+5= 15; Contested Result!

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 10

[Ao]

As Custer sweeps across the room, Kellar lunges forward to grapple the Demon.

The lancer can feel the heat pulsing through the fiends flesh, see the fire burning in its eyes as it levels a searing gaze and opens that unrepentant maw.

[Kellar, grapple check failed]

Kellar’s muscles ripple as he seeks to put the beast down, but the devil is too strong. An infernal, unearthly show of force rebukes Kellar backwards towards the flame, and it flaps its wings in fury, preparing another spell at its fingertips…

Just then, Shorjahl’s spell finds its grip around the pendant, wrenching it from the devil’s neck.

The charm clatters to the ground, a dulled chink against the hardwood floor.

The demon turns its head towards Shorjahl, the flames on its fingertips growing bigger…

[…]

Osvald sprints up the steps, sweat pouring from his brow.

He finds himself on the third floor - an elaborate bedchamber, decorated with the same taste and subtle opulence as the first floor.

A large bed upon a cedar frame sits looking out four enormous arced windows, where a soft, delicate light filters through pleasantly. Thick, heavy wool blankets are layered upon the bed in nearly comical density, as older men are fond of.

There are many framed artworks, and maps of Faerun hung carefully upon the walls. Two mighty dressers sit alongside one another, next to an ornate golden sphere with cartographically-styled etchings upon it.

From below, Osvald can hear calamity.

[…]

Dwan and Artimus watch as the demon turns its attention to Shorjahl, furiously summoning an enormous conjuration of flame upon its hands.

Dripping vitriol, the demon launches the flaming ball at the defiant mage, oblivious to his petitions.

[Hurl flame vs. Shorjahl; Hit]
[Shorjahl takes 18 damage]

The ball of fire explodes in Shorjahl’s face, tearing across his skin and smoking along his robes. Fire envelops the mage, burning white-hot and infernal.

With a smile, the devil turns towards Kellar and strikes out with his claws.

[Devil vs. Shorjahl, claws ; Hit]
[Kellar takes 7 damage]

The claws come down upon his breastplate, scraping across his skin as the burning-hot, demonic mark is etched across his chest in blood.

==========================================

Ok guys,

Shorjahl, you’re not still on fire, but you took a hell of a hit.

Kellar, you need to make a DC 17 CON save or take 10 damage from the infernal wound.

Artimus, you cannot see any water or a carpet with which to fight the fire.

EXP: +30 for total party post

[Shorjahl]

The roiling, molten flame cascaded over the young arcanist. His friends looked on in horror as - certainly - the mage would have been consumed by the hellish blaze enveloping his frame. Over the shredding roar of the fire and the snapping wind of the air gushing through the small keep, a high-pitched, clear ringing could be heard. The fire pressed inexorably forward, as if consumed by the desire to conflagrate the young wizard.

And yet he still stood, knees bent, arms raised and forearms pressed together, his bracer glowing brilliantly white, and a diaphonous, twisting, translucent shield emanating forth from it - a field of pure energy that was holding the flames back. Veins bulged in his neck and forehead, and the heat began melting and perforating holes in the shield like so much magical wax - tendrils of fire and smoke darting through and lancing Shorjahl's face, robes, and arms. Finally the shield evaporated and what remained of the demon's flame crashed into the wizard.

He began to scream, in pain, in fury, and in the terrible momentum of his abjuration.The sound and smell of sizzling, burning flesh crackled into their ears amid the ringing, but after a moment the flames began to recede and dissipate.

Shorjahl remained alive, forearms smoking as the flesh blistered and cracked, dozens of tiny kernels of flame burning pockmarks into his face and head, his robes nearly ruined. His arms dropped to his sides, hands curled into fists, and without a word he pushed his bracered fist forward, a pealing crack of sound and energy filling the room.

----------------------------------

My shield spell went off, I have +5AC (20AC total) until the end of my next turn. My abjuration focus gave me a bonus 11 HP that absorbed a lot of that damage, so I'm not too terribly wounded yet.

Casting Shatter, centered on the demon. Must make a Con save or take full damage, success is half. If the demon is considered something other than flesh (like stone or metal) then he rolls at disadvantage. 11 / 5 damage.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Shorjahl' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D8' : 5, 2, 4

[Custer Thickett]

As Shorjahl and Kellar step into the beast, Custer turns and hops over the Wizard, rushing for the table.  He drops K'Tesh's bow on top, and uses his free hand to brace himself and leap onto it.  He then collapses his left hand bow, and shoves it into his hip holster.  Hearing screaming in the choas behind him, he picks up K'Tesh's bow and turns back to the fight to observe Shorjahl smoldering and Kellar reeling from a blow across his chest.  With the burning archway as a backdrop, it made for a scene he would not soon forget should he live through the day.

Cuss uses his left hand to free the grappling hook and loop of rope tied to his bag behind him, while extending his right holding K'Tesh's bow.  He fires at the back of the demon's neck.  +6
26  Critical!

Cuss frowns. That shot would have fallen an Ogre, yet this one still stands. He yells to Shorjahl, "If ya need em, throw em out the window like the cliff, yeah?"

======
Cuss is making for the broken window.  He plans to repel down the outside of the tower if he can make the check.  Didn't have enough movement to do it and attack this round.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Custer Thickett' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 7, 20

[Kellar]

Kellar felt the claws dig in across his chest, he felt the flame spread through his chest, the flame beginning to burn...
CON Save= 20+2= 22; Success!

The flame faded from his chest and wounds, the dark blue hue moving from his extremities toward the wound and orange glow. The dark blue turned to black when it met the orange glow, his skin then faded back to its light blue hue.

Kellar rounded back toward the Demon and grabbed for the Demon's arms again, hoping to keep it from attacking the others! Grapple Check= 8+5= 13; Contested Result!

Shorjahl! was all he could manage as he tried to tackle the Demon, hoping the wizard was still alive.

Actions:
CON Save made like a Boss; Attempting grapple again, hope AO doesn't beat a 13...

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 20

--------------------------------

#2 'D20' : 8

[Osvald Hale]

Osvald grabs an arm full of the heavy blankets, dragging as many as he can behind him, throwing them down the stairwell towards the burning doorway.

His breathing growing ragged, he descends the stairs four at a time. When he reaches the bottom, he kicks a large blanket to splay it out on the stairs as he slings his waterskin forward from its clip at his side. With a flock of his wrist, he slashes a cut into bottom of the waterskin with his dagger, sheathing it quickly. Standing over the blankets, he bites out the waterskins cork.

The water funnels out quickly and smoothly, Osvald does his best to saturate the blanket. Just before the skin runs dry he holds it above his head, Dousing himself before tossing the empty vessel aside.

Spinning, he sits on the stair--reaching behind himself on either side he draws the heavy blanket up like a great soggy cloak, pulling the top edge over his head like a hood and biting the corners to keep it in place and free up his hands. Breathless, Osvald stands, gathering up the other blankets in one arm, and pulling the wet protective one around himself with the other.

Another scream issues forth from the inferno, but the ranger cannot see beyond the sweltering wall of flame.

Already the blanket around him is steaming heavily. No time to hesitate. With a prayer and a curse, he crouches, and drives his body low through the flames and into the fray beyond...

=====

On my way! Ao, I'll let you determine the success/fail of the protective blanket.

OOC: Nice rolls guys!

[Dwan Bolduum]

Dwan feels the heat of the flame radiating from the demon's hand as it conjures another ball of flame. He squints away from the white hot light of the flame just as the beasts releases it at the unsuspecting Shorjahl. A wall of light glows as the wizard brings his arms up in defense.

For one untrained in combat, he does have good reflexes. Once again he hears a comrade cry out as the demon swipes its claws across Kellar's chest, the blow causing him to stagger back.

Kellar, are you mad? Get away from the beast before he cooks you alive in your armor.

Dwan resumes his focus to center the beam on the demon again. A bolt slams into the demon, seeming to sink in deeper than before, the bolt not catching fire like the others before it.

As the beam rests once more on the demon, Dwan sees a figure jump through the doorway at his periphery, its identity hidden in an amorphous silhouette. No time for distractions we must bring this creature down. The pale flames engulf the demon once more.

Shorjahl!

He must have gone mad... Dwan thinks as he sees Kellar gather himself and lunge once more at the demon in an attempt to grapple it.

==================

Dwan moves the moonbeam once more on the demon. Rolling save & damage in Lair

[Artimus DeLonde]

Smoke billowed up the wall where the stair had been. A fiery door now blocking their escape.

Artimus presse his attack on the creature unsure if if the deep wounds were even being registered by this unnatural outsider.

"Cuzz how high up are we. Can we ezcape put the window?

===============
Sorry guys. Pressed for time

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Artimus DeLonde' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D20' : 11

--------------------------------

#2 'D20' : 19

[Ao]

The flames burn hot behind you as Osvald comes barreling down from the third floor, smothering the smoldering wood in a dripping wool blanket.

Hissing steam and sputtering embers erupt, swirling around the fellowship as the press the attack on the demon.

Viciously, the devil spreads his wings and lunges for Kellar. Its red eyes burn with hatred, claws rending with malice.

Another flicker of flame appears at its fingertips…

And then -

Almost as if by accident, Artimus stumbles forward through the choking smoke and strikes with his sword, finding purchase through the black haze of the extinguished fire.

Osvald watches from the floor, hair dripping in his face, as the blade slips beneath the Daemon’s arm and nestles between a rib.

From across the room, Custer hears a smooth tear.

Dwan watches as the beast buckles atop Kellar’s shield, the blade driving deeper into its heart.

And suddenly, its face no longer expresses the venomous, otherworldly vitriol that it had a moment ago. Instead, a look of chilling terror, and doomed panic, spreads across its hideous visage.

It turns to look at Shorjahl, almost pleading. The wings collapse upon its back, fluttering and then disintegrating. The hardened, black skin peels away from its face and arms. Blood and muscle tumbles from beneath the eldritch shell, fading away.

And now, the fellowship stands in the smoking tower, watching as an elderly man with sunken features stands impaled upon the blade of Artimus DeLonde. An elderly wizard - whom Shorjahl can see plainly as his lord and master, Barjerohn.

He gasps, and then falls from the sword, landing upon the ground with glassy eyes and a pained expression. Pitifully, the he reaches for Shorjahl, whispering words that are nearly lost upon your ears.

But Shorjahl recognizes them. They are the syllables of his name, spread thin on the lips of a dying man.

And then, the life fades from his eyes, and he lays still.

====================

Ok guys. Barjerohn lays dead and still, blood pooling beneath him from the cavernous wound to his side.

The flames have been extinguished by osvald’s quick thinking.

The other elderly wizard lays still, but you can see his is still breathing.

EXP: +30 to all for total party post, +425 exp each for defeating the demon, +35 exp for Osvald's firefighting skills

[Custer Thickett]

Cuss was still, holding K'Tesh's crossbow in his outstretched right hand and his loop of rope in his left by his side. Where once he was staring at a towering demon cloaked in fire, he now saw a shriveled dying old man. As the man reached out for Shorjahl, Cuss looked up at his friend. The moment felt to last an eternity, time frozen around them.

====

Waiting for Shorjahl's post.

[Kellar]

Kellar sees the blade slowly draw from the former Demon's side, and an old man takes his place. He tries to ease the man down to the ground, who weighs practically nothing now that he's reverted back. Shorjahl.... I tried, I tried to restrain him, he said pleadingly. Orbaugh, are you okay? I fine, sad Orbaugh. Kellar stepped aside and checked over his own wounds sustained from the fight, he went near the window where Little One was at. He unfastened his armor and removed it slowly, feeling the blood act as a glue between his armor and skin. Ow, those went deeper into the skin than I'd like to admit, he muttered to himself. He set the armor down and felt the thick blue hue move from his extremities again, toward the wound on his chest.

The shake and shudder under the skin felt unsettling to Kellar, a warmth was moving from his heart toward the surface of his chest, and leaving a cold emptiness in its place. A small shiver and brief flex of muscles fought off the sensation as the wounds sealed shut, and the dark blue hue left four thin lines where the Demon had struck.

...

Do you think this one knows what was happening here, Kellar questioned as he pointed at the wizard laying on the floor. Kellar listened to what the others were saying and he put his armor back on and tightened down the straps and double checked his gear.

Actions:

Kellar uses Second Wind Roll= 1+4= 5 HP recovered.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D10' : 1

[Artimus DeLonde]

Artimus' honoured rapier fell to the floor, his grip loosened by the sight before him.

The tip fell from the once demon, now withered man, blood emptied lackadaisically from the fresh wound.

the blade clattered against the wooden boards and a sickly sweet tone rang otu as it came to rest in the pith and ash of the tower floor falling silent after a moments .

"I, ugh..I"  

Artimus stammered, lost for any words. He looked around at the faces in the room trying to place or order what had just transpired.

The Mariner found himself anchored to Shorljahl's grief racked expression.

He looked to the ground collecting his fallen sword.

" My condolencez... I did what I thought muzt mon amie."

[Dwan Bolduum]

No... Dwan thinks as he watches the demon's form slowly change into that of a frail man.  His wide shoulders give hints that this man was once powerful; not a force to be crossed by any means.  Its hard to see anything of that man with his skin hanging loose and his side bright red from the puncture wound left from Artimus's fallen sword.

Shor...jahl, barely a whisper escapes Barjerohn's lips before his his eyes close.

Dwan rushes over to the body, his thoughts telling him that there is nothing he can do.  He kneels down and looks at the wound, applying pressure after a quick inspection.

**Medicine Roll**
8+5 =13

He should have changed back! His mind frantically racing...   The moon always reveals one's true form.

Fuck sorcery. he mutters under his breath as he tries his best to bring Barjerohn around. Shojahl, I... I had no idea. If  I had known i would have.. He cuts off to silence.

================================
If Dwan determines that nothing can be done he will treat the body respectfully and arrange the wizard in a more dignified resting postition)

If something can be done and requires magical intervention Dwan will use one of his healing spells on Barjerohn.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Dwan Bolduum' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 8

[Shorjahl]

The arcanist, smoke and steam still pouring off of his ravaged body, slumps to his knees beside Bargerohn's corpse. He looks drained, empty, exhausted. His eyes stare unblinkingly at the frail old man as his blood soaks the floor, and as Dwan attempts to bring him back. Whatever was keeping Shorjahl's mind active, his body vital, and his demeanor optimistic, faded away into oblivion. He was a gray husk of a man, staring at... nothing.

After what felt an eternity, his eyes - gray and red like blood and smoke - slowly turned toward the other wizard, the Red Hand. A long, rasping sigh escaped Shorjahl's chapped lips, and he pointed a bony, vein-riddled, blackened finger at the man, his other fingers curling into a trembling fist. "Bring him to me..." his voice is a hollow whisper, a hiss of smoke.

--------------------------------

Sorry guys. ROL kept kicking me out.

[Osvald Hale]

Osvald shirks off the sodden blanket, covered with a grey paste of wet ash.

His expression dour, he circles around the wreckage strewn chamber and comes to stand near the cooling body of Bargerohn. Osvald swears under his breath, pushes his hair back and sighs. He rests a hand on Shorjahls shoulder for a moment. The woodsman opens his mouth as if to speak, but closes it again, unsure of what to say. He trades helpless glances with Artimus and Kellar.

Shorjahl extends his hand, pointing at the crumpled figure on the floor. "Bring him to me..."

Osvald nods, stepping through the smoldering mess and kneeling over the Red Hand. Osvald takes hold of the figure, rolling him onto his back. He was limp, semi-conscious dead weight. In addition to the wound still seeping blood from his chest, he had taken a severe pummeling from Shorjahls assault.

"He's nearly dead. I'll bring him back, and you can ask the questions Shorjahl. Cuss, give me a hand restraining him first."

The ranger had his own suspicions of what may have transpired in the tower, but will we on the side of caution. He will first search the Mage, removing any weapons or somatic spell components, tossing them crudely aside. He'll then uncoil a length of rope, and with Cuss' assistance they bind the mages hands and ankles, before dragging him forward and propping him into a sitting position before Shorjahl and the others in the center of the room.

Osvald circles in front of the Mage, and takes a knee. He extends a hand, and as his finger tips graze the mages forehead Osvald says a quiet prayer.

(Cast Cure Wounds)

The ragged wound in the mages chest begins knitting together, deep purple scars forming in its place.

As his spell works, Osvald steps away to stand near the others, leaving a wide berth around the Mage. Not taking any chances, he again takes up his bow, arming an arrow and taking aim at the Mage--awaiting Shorjahls interrogation.

=====

Binding the Mage, searching him (anything cool in him Ao?), casting Cure Wounds to stabilize/revitalize The Red Hand.

3 + 2 = 5 hp regain

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Osvald Hale' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D8' : 3

[Custer Thickett]

Cuss lowers his crossbow and loops his rope over his belt. He begins folding up the crossbow as he replies to Kellar, "We'll soon find out, no?" Cuss then helps Osvald tie up the old man, and pull him over to Shorjahl. He sits on the floor behind the bound man, leaning back against him to hold him upright. While Osvald heals the man behind him, Cuss fetches Elderro's ornate smoking pipe from his belt pouch, and sets to packing it with Halfling's Leaf harvested from Mountain's Root.

Once the pipe is lit and smoking, Cuss puffs on it while staring at the corpse of Barjerohn, thinking, Was it that a man became a demon, or that a demon became a man? I wonder if he knew the laughing Halfling? Or the Ogre that rides Dragons?

[Ao]

Dwan looms furtively over the fallen body of Barjerohn, staring into his open eyes as the fellowship binds the unconscious red-robed mage.

[dwan medicine roll]

The Druid runs his hands a foot above the body, feeling the dead energy of the elderly wizard. A thick tangle of a beard, nearly all grey, rests on the unrising chest of the man. The wound at his side continues to weep blood.

He is most assuredly dead.

Dwan turns to depart, but suddenly a cold dread washes over him. Something hot, like a mans breath, bristles the hair on his neck. The body of Barjerohn twitches, and the corpse takes an exaggerated breath.

For a moment, it seems as if the wizard is saved. But the elongated breath does not stop, and his chest continues to rise up toward the ceiling unnaturally. His back arcs impossibly, until the sickening crunch of bone and spine begins to crackle audibly in the room with a disgusting series of pops and squelches.

And then, as this macabre performance continues, you watch in horror as Barjerohns jaw opens in a wide-mouthed yawn, expanding so violently that the flesh at the corners of his mouth begins to tear, those piercing eyes rolling back into his head.

Suddenly, the corpse convulses in a crescendo, blood raining down from its mouth as an enormous black spectre ruptures forth from his throat, rising up into the air with burning red eyes.

For a moment, your every nerve stands on end. The shadow looks directly at Shorjahl, standing over the tormented, disfigured body of his former mentor. And, in mockery, it whispers the same two syllables into the ears of the young mage:

"Shor-jaaaaahl"....

And then, as lightning, it disappears in an electric blur that shatters the remaining windows in the tower, the spectre tearing out into the courtyard and leaving your sight...

[...]

The red-robed mage suddenly comes to, Osvald healing him from the brink as Artimus looms over them both.

Custer can feel the Wizards muscles tense in panic.

"What..." He says, his voice raspy and confused.

The elderly man stares into Osvalds eyes, furrowing his brow.

"Who are you-"

And then, he looks beyond the woodsman to the fallen form of Barjerohn, and a look of fear, and then deep despair becomes his face.

"Barjerohn. BARJEROHN!" He yells frantically, the reality of the sundered corpse becoming apparent.

The wizard struggles against his bindings, screaming with deep defiance that begins to wind into a fever pitch. The wizard shouts, tears streaming down his face. He shouts again, calling out to the deceased as his voice rises into a shriek, like a child in absolute terror.

===============•••••••

Ok guys. The ethereal demon is long gone, and you are alone in this tower with the mangled corpse of Barjerohn, and the bound, hysterical wizard

Exp:+30

[Shorjahl]

Shorjahl's eyes are open so wide they look as if they will explode out of his head - red tendrils of blood and the hollow grayness showing that he's on the brink of slipping into madness. They darken, brow lowering, face twisting into an enraged scowl.

He shoves the old wizard in the chest with both of his burned hands, the skin still flaking and cracking audibly. The force of the blow is hard enough to topple the chair over backwards, and the young arcanist sits atop the mage, his coiled palm inches away from his face, the bracer glowing and chiming frightfully. The sound is unnatural, painful, and Shorjahl's chest heaves with barely contained contempt.

"Tell. Me. Everything." his voice reverberates with otherwordly arcane energy, blood dripping from the fresh cracks in his badly burned forearms.

-----------------------------------

Questions:
- Who is this guy
- What happened to Bargerohn
- Why did this happen to him
- What is his knowledge of Keisan / Cyricists / Shadowcant
- Basically I'll threaten violence on this guy if he's a bad guy, but if he turns out to be a good guy Shorjahl will pull back and just try to talk / learn from him. He's pretty hysterical right now
- I assume Bargerohn is maybe a lich now? And if so, where is his phylactery? (or whatever undead he is)
- Anything else that the party wishes to know about the city or the forces at work here, involving our entire campaign pretty much up to this point

The way Ben (out of character) is hoping this goes is that we're equipped with a lot of exposition and knowledge that provides clarity and structure to who and where the bad guys are, and kind of clear(er) quests on what to do and where to go.

[Osvald Hale]

Osvald lowers his bow, so as not to take aim at Shorjahl.
However--a change had happened in the Wizard. Osvald could sense a deep well of rage barely concealed beneath the surface, that was clawing to get out.
Shorjahls distress and anger were certainly understandable, Osvald only hoped he could control himself.

=====

Just waiting to hear what the red hand has to say.

[Kellar]

Kellar listened to the hysterical Shorjahl interrogate the red hooded stranger. He moves toward Osvald and mutters quietly, I can't for your weapons, but my Axe did little to slow that Demon. Do you know of someone that can enchant our weapons?

Kellar then fiddles with his large crossbow and turns to look out of the window, keeping an eye out for further trouble. Orbaugh, lend me your eyes, please. the pseudodragon climbed up on Kellar's shoulder and peered out the window.

He says to Shorjahl, if that one needs further convincing let me know.

Actions:
Kellar and Orbaugh will continue to look outside while the red hood is interrogated.
Perception rolls= Kellar 16+2= 18, Orbaugh... not so much.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Kellar' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 16, 10, 14

[Artimus DeLonde]

"Well zhat waz unexpected"

Artimus remarked flatly as Barjerohn's mangled corpse fell to the group, like a banana peel having it's contently squeezed out..

His stomach turned and he turned the kind of green that a man on his first voyage tended to at the first swell that rocked the boat

While Artimus Queezed, Shorjahl flew into a frenzy and had mounted the red Wizard.

He considered interceeding, By his estimation Mazolath had been waylaid by Barjerohn or whatever it was that just sprung from his like an unholy butterfly bursting from a crysalliss. The fellowship had got there just in time to prevent the red wizards

The whole thing had been a blur.

Artimus stood near the two, getting his barrings.

Second wind
"Perhapz we give thiz man some room to zpeak. He haz juzt nearly met death and we are zharply in need of zome inzight. Let uz not alzo become devilz"

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Artimus DeLonde' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D10' : 4

[Dwan Bolduum]

As the dark presence leaves the body, Dwan places distance between Barjerohn. He is very hesitant to approach the body again.

What in the hells is going on here?

Just as Dwan takes a step towards the body Shorjahl starts his line of questioning.  Seeing that Shorjahl's questions are filled with hostility, anger and hate he decides it is probably best to keep an eye to make sure the wizard doesn't snap and kill the old man.  

Dwan focuses on the old man's responses to try to discern if he is telling the truth.

**Insight Roll**
15+3 = 18
==========================

Dwan watches the conversation take place using insight to determine the truth in the words.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Dwan Bolduum' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 15

[Custer Thickett]

As the corpse burst forth some dark spirit, Custer blows his pipe, sending embers of pipe weed up in a plume around him.  He chokes back a cough as he ducks, soon showered by the splintering glass of the windows as the spirit vanishes.  

Custer rises from his position at the Red Hand's back, and dashes to the window he thinks the spirit vanished through.  He uses his left hand to brace himself on the window seal as he leans out, trying to catch a glimpse of where it may have traveled to.  

[Perception Roll +1]
13

He uses his right hand to tap the smoking pipe out against the edge of the table, and stow it back in his belt pouch.  Hearing Artimus's comment on becoming devils, Custer sounds out a nervous laugh.  He then looks down the outside wall of the tower from his perch on the window, trying to decide if the fall would hurt should he decide to leap.

[How far of a fall is it?]

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Custer Thickett' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 12

[Ao]

The embers from Custer’s pipe flitter through the blown-out window, as the halfling peers through jagged glass at the courtyard below.

The ground is 50 feet below, perhaps. An uncomfortable height to fall, for certain - but whatever fled through this window was undoubtedly unbound to the laws of gravity,

Custer turns and watches as the fellowship assembles tensely around Shorjahl, who is interrogating the wide-eyed mage.

[…]

The elderly wizard speaks, spittle dripping from his lips as he gazes into Shorjahl’s eyes. The frail man sports a badly broken nose, and blood drips down the side of his wrinkled face, and onto his red robe.

“You…you are Shorjahl.” he says softly, a sadness in his eyes betraying his last tears.

“Yes, Barjeron spoke fondly of you, son. When he could, of course. Please, his death brings me as much sadness as you feel in your own heart. Allow me to sit, and…we can speak.”

[…]

The red wizard rises slowly, hobbling on his left leg, which must surely be broken. He moves to a bench, cradling his head in his hands and looking shakily out over the room, where the fellowship looks upon him.

Sadness hangs over his head as his eyes catch Barjerohn, and he hastily casts his hand across the room, causing Kellar to balk.

But the fighter can see the blanket that Osvald had used to smother the fire, slowly drifting towards the body of Barjerohn and settling gently upon it.

“So, this is how it ends.” the elderly wizard says quietly, staring at the body for another moment.

After a time, he looks up, speaking to Shorjahl.

“I am Mazolath, The Red Hand. I was once the war-wizard exalt in Baldur’s Gate, but that was a lifetime ago. Now, I whittle out my days appraising books and working cantrips for nobles. Barjerohn was my brother.”

He lets the words hang in the air, staring with apprehension at the young mage.

“He came to me, years ago. A short time after he cast you out, Shorjahl. The fel magics of the Manifest of Unlife had torn his mind and body apart, and he was a raving lunatic. I took him in, spent days and weeks and years trying to undo the dark marks he had placed upon his heart. But you know of this… he was obsessed with returning his young wife to this world with the evil of Shadowcant. But it is not right…not natural. It was an enormous burden on his soul.”

Mazolath looks out to the broken windows, kicking glass in its direction.

“We’ve lived together ever since. But lately…lately he had been worse.”

[…]

Mazolath guides you down to his kitchen, hobbling over to a kettle and placing it on an open flame. He pours tea into a cup, prolonging the experience in awkward pause as he stalls to finish the rest of his story.

He looks at you, exhausted.

“I know you must have been furious with him, Shorjahl. But it was not your master that cast you out. It was the darkness that grew within him, after that wretched ritual he cast.”

The red hand stops pouring, placing the kettle down.

“A demon grew inside him. The very same demon you saw tonight. It has been growing, for years. And slowly, it had taken over his body. I would find him - late at night - perched upon a scroll, writing secret missives and letters to correspondents that I could not decipher. These schemes were written in shadow cant.”

He rubs his temples.

“I would find him outside in the courtyard, naked, staring at the moon and speaking in tongues. I would wake up and witness a knife suspended an inch from my eye, as Barjerohn played a game of wits with the demon within him.”

Suddenly, something occurs to him.

“Did he contact you, Shorjahl? Did he ask you to come here? Gods - I’ve no idea the plan that he had…or that the demon has, for you.”

His thoughts seems scattered, and the old wizard suddenly seems very tired.

“Today - this afternoon. Barjerohn was in the study, and I heard him call for me. When I arrived, that red-eyed monster was waiting for me. He gored my leg before I could ensorcel him, and cast me down. I cannot remember the rest - something hit me hard, and I blacked out. When I came to, I found you six. In the end, despite my promise, I could not save him.”

Dwan studies the wizard, watching his body language for misstep.

[Dwan, Insight results]

But the druid cannot find fault with the wizard’s story. A genuine sadness truly pervades Mazolath, the Red Hand.

With a quaking hand, Mazolath lifts the cup to his mouth.

“It is morbid circumstance that has brought you here, Shorjahl. You and your company look, undoubtedly, on a mission. From this day, I will track this demon, and bring it to justice for the murder of my brother. Perhaps you are meant to assist me?”

[…]

Mazolath knits his brow together, as Shorjahl presses the mage with questions.

“Cyricists? In Amn? I’ve no connection or knowledge, you can be sure. But this cleric…Keisan, you said was his name? What book of Shadowcant did he have in his possession?”

As you reveal the dark book from Keisan, the old wizard startles and stares at it in contempt.

“This is a book of the oldest manifest of evil. From when the dark lords beneath the Anauroch whispered the secrets of Shadowcant into the ears of the Shadovar. It is a book written in the tongue of lies and murder - favoured by the mad god, Cyric. It is…curious. Curious timing…”

He clears his throat.

“I have long suspected the demon that dwelt in the heart of Barjerohn to be an avatar of Cyric. It would only make sense, given its manifestation through another dark ritual of Shadowcant. But…that you would arrive here, with this tome, today… it is too coincidental.”

The Red Hand looks at the book, frowning.

“I…I can read this book. It will take me a week, maybe more, to extract anything of import. Half of its pages will be lies and deceit, and the other half will likely drive me mad. But it must be deciphered. Mystra has brought you here, and this mystery we will unravel. For Barjerohn.”


============================

Ok guys, any more questions for the mage?

EXP: +30 for full party post.

[Dwan Bolduum]

As the red wizard regales the party with his information, Dwan busies himself by going to one of the still smouldering chairs.  Most of the upholstry is ruined but Dwan takes out a knife from his pack and starts tearing what is left off of the chair in strips.  He trims off the burnt ends of each strip and wraps most of the strips  into bundles and places them in his pack.  

As he secures the cloth in his bag Dwan draws his mace out and spends a moment admiring the interwoven dwarven runes along the head.  He swiftly swings the weapon down on the chair causing it to shatter into pieces. Dwan hides a small smile, happy to get his mind off of the recent events. He notices the story has stopped and everyone has focused their attention towards him. Placing his mace back in it's loop Dwan ignores the glares and looks towards the wizard, Continue.


Dwan gathers up a few of the longer lengths of wood and gathers them in a bundle under one arm, his other grabs the strips of cloth he has not stowed away. He walks over towards Mazolath and takes a look at his leg, Yup, definitely broken. Dwan takes a few of the lengths of wood and places them on either side of the leg. As he starts tying the cloth around the splint, his ears perk up as Mazolath describes how the demon had been manipulating Barjerohn and creating secret plans.  A thought crosses Dwan's mind that causes his whole body to tense up.

What if it wasn't Barjerohn that had compelled my body to grab the message?  What if it was this demon? Normally, magic does little to compel me but this... it might have been a possession.  He lets it hang in the air.

His fingers quake slightly as he finishes tying up the knots on the splint. Dwan walks over towards the broken window and sits on the ledge, trying to get some fresh air to clear his mind.

**Medicine Roll on Mazolath to try to mend his broken leg, rolling with advantage for using a splint**
12+5 = 17

As the conversation comes to an end Dwan looks back towards the wizard. What more do you know if the nature of this demon?

==============================

Dwan fixes the wizard's broken leg.
Gets spooked at the thought of how easily manipulated he was by the demon.  
Dwan asks the wizard a question.

[DiceMaster]

The member 'Dwan Bolduum' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D20' : 8, 12

[Sponsored content]