Paridon: The Dark Metropolis (Ravenloft)
- Thread starter InVinoVeritas
- Start date
industrygothica
Adventurer
Before entering the hallway, Darian takes note of the structure to see there is any obvious (or maybe less than obvious) place that the corridor may empty into, figuring that he can cut whomever it is off at the exit if there is.
InVinoVeritas
Adventurer
Torhan, Fr. Berman, and Calahan rush headlong into the flames. The corridor is narrow; the three instinctively duck and make their way down the passageway in single file: Torhan, Calahan, then Fr. Berman.
Darian and Ru hang back, trying to find some way around the flames, hopefully to figure out where they lead out.
The heat is intense. The fire billows into the faces of the trio that braves them. Armor grows hot. Hair singes. The brigade peppers with comments. "I can't believe it! Brave men they are." "Brave fools, more like it. Keep that water coming!" (-10 hp to Torhan, Calahan, and Fr. Berman) Past the initial inferno, the hallway gives way to an area mostly burned. The halls are black with soot, the beams charred through, and the sounds of raging torrent from the fire give way to creaks. The air here is bad, smoke-filled. The haze is dizzying. No one is quite sure whether the gnome ran into a side door--they are charred and shut, unlikely--until a glimpse down a hall to the left is seen. A staircase rises, and the sound of footsteps can be heard.
"Do you know anything about gnomish architecture?"
"Not really..." There is Little Diversions, of course.
Who would know the way around? Alek!
Darian muses a moment, an image of Alek emerging from the burning corridor, charred, broken, burned to a crisp, consigned to hell. The image is amusing. Yet...
A thought occurs to Darian. "Alek came out of that hallway earlier. And before that..."
Darian looks up. "He was on the balcony!"
The velvet curtains have since disintegrated. The railing is black and broken. Smoke issues forth from the hall beyond. Yet the floor of the balcony appears made of a stone pedestal, though, and would be able to support weight. And, since it is to a gnome's scale, Ru can jump and reach it easily.
The trio rush up the marble stairs, thankful that they do not give way. Smoke fills their nostrils, an odd, pungent odor. The scent of burning oak, the oakiness of a well-aged wine, the fruit of a fresh morning market, the fresh earth after a rain, the familiar sebaceous tang of waking next to the one you love... what could make that incense?
At the top of the staircase is a bedroom. The portal stands ajar, barely staying on its hinges. The stultifying aroma wafts forth, carried on the smoke. Inside, the room is lit--it has not finished burning. The bed and canopy are in flames. A desk lies cluttered, covered in broken vials, lamp oil afire, as a rosy syrup oozes from the flames. A door beyond remains shut. A window to the outside stands broken, wind howling through it. And in the center of the room, Alek. He stands, arms outstretched like some god, wearing his white mask and outfit, as Sasha, Kitten, and Marionette cling to him wantonly.
"Alek!" challenges Torhan as Fr. Berman and Calahan file into the room. The police level their weapons at him...
...and stop a moment, as Alek's unmoving form twists, bubbles, and cracks. An easel buckles, sending what is actually just a painting crashing to the floor, smoldering. Behind the painting, against the backdrop of the conflagration, stands someone else. In his hand, the bloody, messy masked heads of Ada and Temp dangle by their hair. He steps forward. He has the face from earlier. He is the gnome in the alleyway.
"Not Alek. Not Combledorn. Irrelevant. Time to leave."
His head begins to shake.
Darian and Ru hang back, trying to find some way around the flames, hopefully to figure out where they lead out.
The heat is intense. The fire billows into the faces of the trio that braves them. Armor grows hot. Hair singes. The brigade peppers with comments. "I can't believe it! Brave men they are." "Brave fools, more like it. Keep that water coming!" (-10 hp to Torhan, Calahan, and Fr. Berman) Past the initial inferno, the hallway gives way to an area mostly burned. The halls are black with soot, the beams charred through, and the sounds of raging torrent from the fire give way to creaks. The air here is bad, smoke-filled. The haze is dizzying. No one is quite sure whether the gnome ran into a side door--they are charred and shut, unlikely--until a glimpse down a hall to the left is seen. A staircase rises, and the sound of footsteps can be heard.
"Do you know anything about gnomish architecture?"
"Not really..." There is Little Diversions, of course.
Who would know the way around? Alek!
Darian muses a moment, an image of Alek emerging from the burning corridor, charred, broken, burned to a crisp, consigned to hell. The image is amusing. Yet...
A thought occurs to Darian. "Alek came out of that hallway earlier. And before that..."
Darian looks up. "He was on the balcony!"
The velvet curtains have since disintegrated. The railing is black and broken. Smoke issues forth from the hall beyond. Yet the floor of the balcony appears made of a stone pedestal, though, and would be able to support weight. And, since it is to a gnome's scale, Ru can jump and reach it easily.
The trio rush up the marble stairs, thankful that they do not give way. Smoke fills their nostrils, an odd, pungent odor. The scent of burning oak, the oakiness of a well-aged wine, the fruit of a fresh morning market, the fresh earth after a rain, the familiar sebaceous tang of waking next to the one you love... what could make that incense?
At the top of the staircase is a bedroom. The portal stands ajar, barely staying on its hinges. The stultifying aroma wafts forth, carried on the smoke. Inside, the room is lit--it has not finished burning. The bed and canopy are in flames. A desk lies cluttered, covered in broken vials, lamp oil afire, as a rosy syrup oozes from the flames. A door beyond remains shut. A window to the outside stands broken, wind howling through it. And in the center of the room, Alek. He stands, arms outstretched like some god, wearing his white mask and outfit, as Sasha, Kitten, and Marionette cling to him wantonly.
"Alek!" challenges Torhan as Fr. Berman and Calahan file into the room. The police level their weapons at him...
...and stop a moment, as Alek's unmoving form twists, bubbles, and cracks. An easel buckles, sending what is actually just a painting crashing to the floor, smoldering. Behind the painting, against the backdrop of the conflagration, stands someone else. In his hand, the bloody, messy masked heads of Ada and Temp dangle by their hair. He steps forward. He has the face from earlier. He is the gnome in the alleyway.
"Not Alek. Not Combledorn. Irrelevant. Time to leave."
His head begins to shake.
Rhun
First Post
Torhan knows that he is no match for this creature, whatever it may be. It had mopped the floor with the group earlier, and they had all been there. Still, his instinct kicks in before rational thought, and his greatsword is suddenly in the paladin's hand and swining toward the monster!
HP: 30/40, AC: 18
Initiative +0, Greatsword +8 for 2d6+4 (19-20)
HP: 30/40, AC: 18
Initiative +0, Greatsword +8 for 2d6+4 (19-20)
(ooc: IVV, are you keeping track - what are our actual current hp?)
When the party is damaged by the heat, Father Berman begins to make liberal use of his wand, attempting to get the three watchmen back up to their full health. (1d8+1 per charge; will use at least 2 chg each, more if the wounds from before count. This should occur before the 'gnome' is encountered.)
"Torhan, no! We are not prepared for this. We need to go now!"
(If the party is still badly injured, he'll use the wand again on the most injured person. If not, he'll take a shot at the 'gnome'.)
When the party is damaged by the heat, Father Berman begins to make liberal use of his wand, attempting to get the three watchmen back up to their full health. (1d8+1 per charge; will use at least 2 chg each, more if the wounds from before count. This should occur before the 'gnome' is encountered.)
"Torhan, no! We are not prepared for this. We need to go now!"
(If the party is still badly injured, he'll use the wand again on the most injured person. If not, he'll take a shot at the 'gnome'.)
Ru Brike, human monk
Ru smiles. "Piece of cake," he says, doing his best impression of a gazelle. Once on the balcony, he reaches down to Darian. "Need a hand?"
[sblock=OOC]I think Darian has some rope, so whether gnome scale means Ru can reach down or needs the rope to do it, he should be able to haul Darian up, I think.[/sblock]
InVinoVeritas said:
Ru smiles. "Piece of cake," he says, doing his best impression of a gazelle. Once on the balcony, he reaches down to Darian. "Need a hand?"
[sblock=OOC]I think Darian has some rope, so whether gnome scale means Ru can reach down or needs the rope to do it, he should be able to haul Darian up, I think.[/sblock]
InVinoVeritas
Adventurer
kinem said:
(I can do it.)
Fr. Berman wields his wand, giving each of himself, Calahan, and Torhan a touch, but the magic only meekly gets through. (+2, +3, +3 hp to Torhan, Fr. Berman, and Calahan)
Torhan 32/40
Fr. Berman 23/30
Calahan 16/23
Darian 14/20
Ru 24/30
(Ru will be able to reach down and pick up Darian to both reach the balcony as a full-round action.)
industrygothica
Adventurer
Darian gives Ru a nod when he gains footing on the balcony. "Now let's find this monster, shall we?"
InVinoVeritas
Adventurer
OOC: Just waiting for Ivid.
