Once the boat was out of her way and she'd been spoken to, Peony sighed. This was not a recommended name. "Peony. I'll forgive you this time. Easy mistake to make. It's a type of flower, not some otherworld currency." She waved her hand dismissively at Yvah. "And I'm not a little kid. That joke would have been funnier a decade ago. Or it would have scared me. It is the arm of someone who died already, after all." She shrugged.

As the rest of the group rested, the false cleric stood watch. Not of the paths, like she made it look, but of this new group. They were strange, to say the least. Way too grim for successfully killing skeletons.

When she heard the chanting, or rather the translation, she shuddered. She'd heard a similar chant before. But that was different. That was...not watery. "So, how are we going to handle this? I could go up and cook a few of them. Make us a nice dinner" She dramatically flicked her flaming blade.

With the skeletons having finally collapsed back into their coffins, Ulor's attention turned away from them and back to the room itself. The presence of these necromantic creatures went to refute what he thought to have observed before; they could not have been lying there by sheer chance, for they had remained in their tombs in the wake of whoever had placed the latest newly released prisoner in the disappointingly harmless saltwater tank. No, they had lain there to serve a purpose; and whatever purpose could have required the presence of battle-ready undead - somehow, Ulor thought first of holding sacrificial victims in place, and only then of guarding something - it was certain to be an interesting one. Unfortunately, neither he nor the octopus could see much past the others as the chamber was searched, and had to resort to craning necks and flattening heads to even e certain that it was being searched at all.

The blooming of the enchanted boat was, however, visible enough from the corridor, and he was satisfied enough with it that he thought little of clambering into the vessel when it was lowered onto the murky water. After all, it had been there for the use of those very acolytes who now were chanting more and more audibly somewhere not too far. Ulor caught himself thinking that the fact that the boat was here and the acolytes here might have been strange, but by this point they had already set sail, so it did not matter much.

The chant grew more and more in volume, and Ulor was irked that he could not understand what something with such a curious cadence meant. That is, until the gnome, about whom, along with most of the party, he had all but forgotten, helpfully translated the sinister words. The mage frowned, alternating a few squinting glances between Eilina and the shadows ahead. "Now? Impossible. No single ritual could be sufficient for this," he rasped in what was ostensibly his usual hollow voice. But he did not sound too confident. In truth, not even he could properly guess at what a sufficient force could accomplish in so little time. What he did know was that an event of that sort was certain to have repercussions through worlds known and uncharted alike, ones that he, for one, had no intention of experiencing firsthand.

Holding up a hand, Ulor whispered something inarticulate, and the octopus, which had been clinging to the side of the boat, slid almost noiselessly into the stream below. The filthiness of the water worked to its advantage as its pale body grew dark to match its surroundings, so that only a suspicion of a bulging eye could be occasionally glimpsed cautiously peering out before vanishing again. And that eye was enough for Ulor's mind, stretched and twisted into otherworldly forms of spirit, to see through. Some moments passed as he sat with his own eyes closed, after which he shook himself and turned towards the group. "There are but five adherents of the cult there, intent on their captive's sacrifice. Yet a fiend of malice and the dark spawn of the Queen preside over their rite. We must keep them at bay as we dispatch their followers, for facing all at once would spell our doom."

Ulor's whispers echoed throughout the tunnel off the surface of the water, carrying out into the large room. The chanting halted suddenly, and the scurrying of feet could be heard before a voice spoke up, booming deep and harsh over the murky water. "Who dares interrupt our rituals? Show yourselves, so that we may add your number to our sacrifices and rid the world of your stupidity!"

As if bidden by the voice, the current increased, tugging the boat forward into the open room. To the west, a devilish figure sat on a throne, glaring as the boat entered view. Before him was a man bound to a pillar, stripped of his gear and nearly naked. A sahuagin priestess guarded him, and a kuo-toa was to his north. On the other side of the river was a black dragon child who seemed to be the source of the voice, along with a pseudodragon minion and an undead skelton. The group seemed organized into a specific pattern for some ritual.

As the boat pulled into view, the dragon snorted, perhaps expecting an easier prey. "Didn't we already capture half of you?" it asked with annoyance. "Bah, you humanoids all look alike, especially once you have been destroyed! Kill them!"

21 - @Oraculum - Ulor
20 - Black Dragon Wyrmling - KO'd
17 - @Oraculum - Octy
16 - @Cao the Exiled - Auro'pol - KO!
16 - Kuo-toa - KO'd
16 - Sahuagin Priestess - KO'd
15 - @JBRam2002 - Eilina
13 - @corneredbliss - Ary
11 - @Ms Ravenwinter - Yvah
9 - @LovelyAnastasia - Solglia
8 - Pseudodragon - Dead
7 - Spined Devil - Defeated
7 - Skeleton - KO'd
6 - Sahuagin Guard A - KO'd
6 - Sahuagin Guard B - KO'd
6 - Flying Sword
2 - @Ermine - Peony

@Oraculum - Muttering something about reckless fools and blind oxen, Ulor precariously stood up from his position in the boat and, having obliviously and rather roughly jostled his way to the fore, gracelessly hopped from the vessel onto the western embankment. Moving a step forward, he raised his left hand in the kuo-toa's direction, whispering his indistinct chant. Spectral flames flowed towards the creature as the shadows around it formed into thrashing, amorphous shapes that were cast by no body. [Ulor steps out of the boat and onto the western shore, where he moves a square forward and down. He then Hexes and Eldritch-Blasts the kuo-toa. He hits with a 21 for attack, dealing 6 force damage and 5 necrotic damage.]

The Wyrmling approached the boat, chuckling menacingly as it flapped its wings, and summoned a gout of acid breath, spewing it in a line across the bow of the magical vessel. Ulor, Yvah, and Peony must make a Dex save or take 11 acid damage (half on success). [I rolled terribly... four of those dice were 1s.]

@Oraculum - With the party's arrival exposed, there was no further need for the octopus to remain concealed. Rising out of the water, it shed the murky hue it had assumed in it even as the filthy liquid trickled down from its twitching tentacles, regaining its usual spectral colouring. A quick survey of the chamber, along with Ulor's silent prodding, was enough for it to determine that it was safer not to personally engage any of the foes yet. It thus swam through the air a few paces towards its master, but cautiously remained clear of where the dragon's corrosive breath had struck. [Octy moves diagonally up and to the west by two squares.]

@Cao the Exiled - Auro'pol narrowed his eyes on the priestess as he tried to remember any knowledge on the Sahuagin abomination. Only recalong the fact that they were amphibious. Annoyed by the lack of info that he could recall, the Bladesinger would take the rope that bound him, wrapping it around his knuckles. Auro slowly crept up to the priestess, attempting. As the Sahuagin dodged his attack, Auro instantly took a defense position. [Attempted a history check to remember weaknesses, rolled an 8. Then attempt an athletic check to grapple and strangle. Rolled a 14, but failed to beat contested roll.]

The Kuo-toa sees the escaping prisoner and charges, striking at Auro'pol with his spear for 9 damage! The Sahuagin Priestess flanks with the Kuo-toa, scoring a Critical Hit for 3 damage on Auto'pol. She then casts a spell on herself.

@JBRam2002 - Eilina suddenly poofed off the boat, disappearing in a cloud of mist before appearing just behind the Kuo-toa. "You look like you could use some help!" she called out, conjuring a Ray of Frost to hit the frogman, but he dodged. Eilina moved closer to flank the kuo-toa, drawing her dagger in as menacing a manner as the adorable tiny gnome could muster.

@corneredbliss - Araerys inwardly rolled her eyes; jumping into yet more combat was probably not the best idea. The group’s morale was a little shaky and it sounded as if the room held a lot more enemies than they had yet faced - but here they went. The bard pushed her way through the boat before hopping out into the dirty waters, quick to spot the dragon to her side and instinctively shouting words of a spell that she had somehow come to know. Immediately, scores of parasites poured out from the ground beneath the creature and began to climb up its body, scuttling and squeaking until they covered its scales like moving skin. [Ary moves to just in front of Peony, casts Infestation on Black Dragon. 4 poison dmg if fail, moves him 5 feet north.] As she hops into the murky water, she feels a sickened feeling, and now has the poisoned condition.

@Ms Ravenwinter - Feeling rested after the boatride and particularly springy, Yvah leaped from the boat and planted her feet to the ground. Landing in a crouch beside the drake, Yvah sprang up in a flash of motion. Her staff flung out skyward in a wide, sweeping arc, completely missing the target. The weight of the weapon gave her balance as her leg thrust forward, heel connecting and denting a plate of adolescent dragonscale, dealing 10 damage. With a pivot on her toes, her fist lashed against scaled hide, only for the wrist to buckle against the tough natural plating.

@LovelyAnastasia - Solglia growled, her long wavy brown hair rustling around her shoulders. The heavy gold earrings she wore glinted softly as she moved her head, taking in every aspect of this new situation. Out of the fire and into the dragon's mouth, huh? What a splendidly horrible chance encounter. A dragon! Of all things, it had to be that! She could handle goblins, giant spiders, sneaky assassins, and most other atrocities, but a dragon? Come on! She was only a dwarf! Even if she came from far away, it didn't change the history. Most dwarves through out history were defeated and their precious property stolen by the horrid beasts. Even as she swung her heavy warhammer, of course missing despite her might, Solglia had to begrudgingly admit though.... The beast was the very image of destructive beauty. If she had forge fire, she wondered if her skills with metal could recreate such finest.

The pseudodragon darts forward and whips its tail at Yvah as she is distracted by the much larger dragon, piercing the back of her arm for 3 damage. Yvah must make a CON save. The spined devil sends one of its tail spines flying towards Eilina, but misses wide. Another tail spine flies at the same target and hits, dealing 5 piercing damage and 2 fire damage. The Skeleton near Yvah approaches, but cannot land a hit. Hearing the commotion, two sahaugin guards rush out from around the corner, brandishing their weapons.

@Ermine - With a roar, Peony, frustrated by the elemental facemelting she narrowly avoided the brunt of by contorting her body backward, muttered a curse on the creature that did it (Hex). She flicks her blade, and with a flash, causes it to hum with potential energy in addition to it's flames (Booming Blade on still flaming blade), and swings the blade at the creature, but cannot pierce its hide.

@Oraculum - Casting a backwards glance at the dragon, who was now dangerously close and eager to use its corrosive breath, Ulor hastily scrambled further from the boat by a few steps. That the scaled acolytes should be engaged with their prisoner and the gnome was, for as much as he was concerned, for the best. This allowed him to continue his assault from a safer distance, an occasion he was prompt to seize by unleashing another diaphanous bolt of crackling power. [Ulor moves to the southwest by two squares, and casts another Eldritch Blast at the kuo-toa, dealing10 damage and defeating it!]

Seeing the foes surrounding it, the Dragon turns its attention to the Blood Hunter in front of it and snaps its jaws towards Peony. The acid melts through the girl's armor as its teeth sink in painfully, dealing 11 piercing damage and 3 acid damage!

@Oraculum - After bubbling in place for some more moments, the octopus seemed to finally decide on its plan of action. Writhing and shaking off the last of the sewer water, it drifted towards the scaled priestess, who seemed to be at the same time surrounded by twisting shadows at her feet for a moment as Ulor had waved in her direction. The hovering mollusk spluttered and flailed over her, strangely but fairly clearly motioning at the elf with a pair of tentacles. [Octy floats up to the sahuagin priestess and Helps Auro'pol on his next attack against her, giving it advantage.]

@Cao the Exiled - The mage was perplexed as what to do with his current situation. Things appeared to look dire whenn he noticed the warrior fall behind him. With a grin, the ghost elf chanted something in what appeared to be a mixture of Elven and Infernal. A small orb jetted from his palms and past the priestess, which then burst into a large cloud of fog. The twenty by twenty orb soon engulfed the creature, allowing his escape to go unnoticed. As the elf zoomed passed the fallen guard, he would sweep up the spear that it had fallen, thanking the stranger that had slay it in the same bastard tongue. Leaping from the stairs, Auro would make his way to the alcove that held his prized claws. Unfortunately, before the elf could acquire them, a sword that laid before them would snap to life, rising with a strike across his chest. Surprised by the sudden assault, the elf determined that the blade was a type of construct called a flying sword. [Auro cast fog cloud four squares behind the priestess. On his way to clame his gear, he would equip the spear held by the Kuo-toa warrior. Approaching his gear, Auro was attacked by a sword, dealing 5 dmg. A successful arcana check determined it is a flying sword]

The Sahuagin Priestess steps forward, casting another spell that affects herself, the Spined Devil, and the Flying Sword. Eilina casts a spell on the Flying Sword in retaliation, and the sound of a bell can be heard as spots of rust form on the weapon, dealing 2 necrotic damage.

@corneredbliss - As soon as Araerys jumped into the water, a wave of nausea washed over her. Her face screwed up involuntarily as she dry heaved, only just realizing what she’d done in the heat of the battle. Immediately regretting the disgusting water that made contact with whatever skin she had exposed, the bard scrambled as quickly as she could down the line of creatures and heaved herself up onto dry ground just on the opposite side of the little red dragon that was beside Yvah. Leaving the water, Ary instantly felt much, much better. With an almost renewed sense of motivation, she unsheathed her rapier and made a slash at the pseudo dragon, which connected with a squelsh and dug deep into its hide. Pulling and pushing it until the blade nearly came out of the other side, the half-elf let out a half-laugh as the creature stopped moving, and she nodded at the feline as if passing on the baton. “One less for ya. Go get ‘em!" [Ary moves down the river three squares and east one square, so that she’s flanking the drake with Yvah. She swings her rapier and it connects (attack 25), dealing 15 dmg. She then grants combat inspiration to the kurjian.]

@Ms Ravenwinter - Just as swiftly as the flying lizard swooped in behind Yvah, the thing was dispacted with a satisfying squish of flesh and pierced scale. Seeing the near broken state of one of the rescued prisoners, Yvah leaped up with her staff. The hard edge connected under the umbral drake's neck, hearing some scales crack and bones give. Just before she was swatted out of the air, only barely avoiding a full impact from the dragon's paw. She managed to land gracefully, but lost her opportunity for further strikes.

@LovelyAnastasia - The dragon was moving away from the boat, obviously unthreatened by her entirely, so as it was chomping around, it had its back to her entirely. She couldn't miss this opportunity. Actually it was about as easy a target as hitting an old barn door. There was no way she could miss. So how could she resist? With a gritted tooth smile, she swung her hammer over her head, spun it magnificently three times but then she caught sight of Peon-whatever-her-name-was. Crap. The hill dwarf frowned. Guess she'd have to settle for being a medic. Very unlike her.... Ah no helping it. She'd try her healing then. How was that for being unthreatening? No time to be celebrating though. Solglia lifted up her sheild. Just in case. Rubbing her hands together, she grumbled the spell more than chanted or sang it. Maybe that was why it got a little curly and ended up so weak. She put her hand on Peony's back and let the spell end with a snort. [Lvl 2 Spell cure wounds on Peony for +6 HP]

The Spined Devil rushes towards Eilina, trying to bite her and pierce her with its fork, but the shimmering force of mage armor around her repels the attacks. The blessing from the Sahuagin priestess allows the Devil's bite to press through the arcane barrier, hitting for 5 damage. The skeleton swings at Yvah, but the feline is easily able to dodge out of the way. The Sahuagin Guards approach as well. The first hits Yvah with his spear and follows up with a bite for a total of 7 damage, while the second bites Ary for a CRITICAL hit for 5 damage, and CRITS AGAIN with the spear for 13 damage as it attacks with a frenzy from the fresh blood. Lastly, the Flying Sword swings again at Auro'pol, hitting for 4 damage!

@Ermine - Continuing her same tactic with much less yelling this time, Peony again swings her blade - which so far only contained her own blood - at the dragon, with fire and thunder backing up its power, though she was pretty sure it wouldn't be the greatest of buffs. Sadly, a 6 does not beat its AC.

@Oraculum - Had he had some semblance of pride remaining, Ulor would have congratulated himself for directing the curse that had been left afloat with the kuo-toa's demise against what appeared to be the most dangerous foe of the lot. As it was, he was simply glad he had thought of doing so. If the fiend and the enchanted blade were arms, the sahuagin was the heart, and removing her would leave the others weakened. Turning slightly to have a better sight, but remaining in place, he conjured a third bolt of arcane power, this time directed at the adept. [Ulor points his Eldritch Blast towards the sahuagin priestess, breaking through her sanctuary and dealing 12 damage, KOing her! As the priestess falls, her enchantment on her allies also fades, and Ulor's Hex moves over to the Spined Devil.

The dragon wymrling, intent on finishing off its prey, gnashes out at Peony with its maw and barely is able to connect through the armor. It deals 5 piercing damage and 1 acid damage, and the dragon laughs at her misfortune, a slow and deep chuckle. "Give in now, and maybe you'll be honored as sacrifices before the end of days!"

@Oraculum - Caught in the bank of fog conjured by the freed prisoner, the octopus considered itself safe enough from the foes it knew remained nearby. However, this came at the price of being as blind as them as to what the mist concealed. From what Ulor could tell it, there was some space to edge closer to the remaining enemy without showing itself; yet neither could say exactly how much. Opting for safety, the creature swam sideways but by a step, and was relieved to remain concealed. [Octy moves to the west by one square.]

@Cao the Exiled - Auro narrowed his eyes at the floating blade with interest. Holding his right hand up, he channelled the the magic energy around him to attempt taking it over. [Attempted arcana (int) to take control of the flying blade. Rolled 18 and failed]

@JBRam2002 - Seeing that many of the enemies had lined up perfectly for her, Eilina again dipped into the ethereal realm, poofing into view again not far from the Sahuagin guards. "Burn!" she called out, sending a line of arcane fire to hit both Sahuagin Guards, the Skeleton, and the Dragon, dealing 16 damage on a failed Dex save, half as much on a pass. The only failure was the northern Sahuagin Guard, but the Dragon Wyrmling collapsed under the flames. The smug grin lasted on her face only long enough for her to realize that she was now in danger, and she started to frantically cross the bridge back away from the Sahuagin.

@corneredbliss - A quick scan of the field told her that nearly half of their enemies were already incapacitated, and a delighted grin graced the bard’s face as she turned to the creature just beside her. With her rapier poised, she swung at it, perhaps too overconfidently - the blade missed, and she grunted as she stopped its momentum from spinning her completely around. Araerys cursed loudly and readied the blade back up again, brow furrowed as she tensed for the imminent attack. [Ary swings her rapier and misses with a gods-damned 11.]

@Ms Ravenwinter - As the bloodied beast fell to the ground in a clump of shimmering black scales, Yvah and Ary were approached by the swings of enemy weapons. The first swiped harmlessly by her side, the second and third stabbed and tore into her as she motioned herself away from the first strike. A cry of pain followed as her friend beside her was gouged by the enraged fishman. Before they could make another attack, Yvah dipped under the reach of the skeleton before her, just barely ducking underneath its grasping fingers. With a pivot of her body, she distributed her momentum around in a graceful swing of her staff. The end caught itself on the side of the sahuagin's skull from behind with a loud crack against his helm. The staff continued its arc just short of the skeleton beside the guard as he crumpled motionless beside the foul thing.

@LovelyAnastasia - Solglia was a bit salty (ha no both legitimately and figuratively) about this whole fight. Everyone was flipping and spinning and slicing and being rather heroic, and what was she doing? Standing there trying to concentrate on healing spells. The very spells she had neglected because she had always been awful at them. All this elf magic healing stuff was wearing her out. She was more of a crush-things-with-hammer sort of cleric, not some flittering gnome healing cleric. Grumbling once more about how she'd much rather stand with her shield in front of the wounded, she rubbed her palms together. "Bringers of day, brighter than night, pour into thee, the spirit of life!" She chanted, putting a palm on Peony. The magic swirled with a golden glow, brightened on the other's back and- Fizzled out with a pop. CRUSH IT ALL TO THE SEVEN HELLS, REALLY?! [Solglia heals Peony a measly 4hp and continues to be a failure]

Seeing the dragon fall incensed the Spined Devil who darted forward towards Ulor in a fury. Its jaws snapped towards the warlock, followed by a thrust from his pitchfork, but the devil was too angry to focus on his attacks, nearly biting its tongue off in the process. The Skeleton slings its sword at Yvah who expertly bats it aside, causing it to fall out of the skeleton's grasp and skitter along the ground away from it. The remaining Sahuagin, feeling slightly embarrassed at the poor showing from its allies, drives its spear towards Ary with both hands, barely hitting for 3 damage! The flying sword slices at Auro'pol, unaffected by the elf's attempts to subdue it, and the blade scrapes along the outside of Auro'pol's clothing, barely missing the attack by a fraction of an inch.

@Ermine - Peony, incensed by her blade's lack of usefulness at the moment - and having been attacked again, and having been touched in a way she didn't like, being too weak to fight at the moment, being defended against her will, and most of all having her quarry stolen from her - takes a breath and settles for just keeping herself alive. She pulls a potion from her belt and takes a swig (restoring 8 HP) before dramatically smashing the vial just before the corpse of the dragon. She spits at it and mumbles a curse before rushing to aid Yvah, standing opposite her next to the skeleton to flank.

@Oraculum - Ulor could not help but start half a step backwards when the devil came charging at him, but stopped when the beast's fangs gnashed wide. All throughout, his face had never lost its lack of a definite expression. "You should know better than to meddle with forces so far beyond you, underdweller," he rasped at the fiend, raising his hand to unleash a blast of unnatural energy directly into its hideous horned face. In almost the same moment, he sent out a wave of thought to the octopus, summoning it to his aid against the dangerously close foe, with whom the familiar understood he was now somewhat more uneasy than he would have cared to admit. The mollusk floated out of the cloud of fog, and, regaining its bearings, neared the devil, over whose head it began to circle in a harmless but rather irritating way. [Ulor Eldritch Blasts the devil at point-blank, dealing 5 damage. Octy then floats up to it and does its routine of Helping Ulor on his next attack.]

@Cao the Exiled - Annoyed by his failure to convert the construction. While chanting the incantations of Booming Blade, the ghost elf would clumsily swing the spear, attempting to hit the flying blade which caused him to miss. [Attack: d20+3 = (7)+3 = 10 ~ Missed]

@JBRam2002 - Seeing that the elf was having trouble with the Flying Sword, Eilina sent a dark cantrip to hamper the blade, and a dull ringing sound could be heard as the blade failed to resist her spell [Toll the Dead for 5 damage].

@corneredbliss - It just wasn’t her time. She’d had her moment with the skeletons in the previous battle, but now Araerys just couldn’t seem to land a proper hit. She stabbed at the air with her rapier, quite off target after being too hasty from her last missed attack. A loud roar of frustration escaped her before she shouted at the little girl across from her, “God’s damn it all - if yer able to get a whack in, do it fer me!” [Ary misses AGAIN (6) and grants Bardic Inspiration to Peony.]

@Ms Ravenwinter - The bardic half-elf shouted across from Yvah to further rally their number. She seemed in dire straits, thrusting wildly through the haze of blood loss. Yvah wasn't doing much better, but sensing a victory nearly in sight, she steeled herself. With teeth grit, and muscles flexed, she swung wide with a deep step. The hard wood of her staff rattled the skull of Ary's attacker, who fell limp at the friendly charlatan's feet. She swung again, in the opposite direction, using the weight of the weapon to spin her body into a kick behind her. The many cracks of bones resounded through the echoing chamber as her leg shattered the autonomous corpse's ribcage. It's upper body clattered and splintered over the stone below as Yvah pushed herself into a ready stance. [Attack 1 hits Sahuagin B for 14 damage while Attack 2 hits Skeleton for 7 damage (x2 for weakness). Both are KO'd.]

@LovelyAnastasia - Solglia had been in the boat for mostly the entire battle. Well not 'mostly'. She had been in the boat the entire battle. Should she leave it now? It was almost over. What if it floated away after she left it? Nah. Should be fine. She coooooould go check out that dragon corpse. Those beasties were known for their love of shiney things. One of the things she could relate too. Buuuuut these guys had broken her out of a glob-making machine. She did owe her hammer to them. Clod-grind it. Solglia let out a heavy reluctant sigh and left the boat, half-heartedly lifting her hammer and swinging at the devil creature. She obviously missed. No battle could be done without heart. And her heart was currently gazing like a love stuck school maid at a big scales corpse across the way. Because how many changes did one get to examine a dragon corpse without being a knife blade cut near death? Arrrrrrgh.... Should have looked it over instead of dancing with a devil...

The Spined Devil was no idiot. He knew that he was outmatched at this point in time, and reincarnation in the seven hells was a painful prospect. But still, his pride would not allow him to withdraw without another parting shot. "You will see me again, I promise you!" he called out as he sunk his teeth into Ulor's shoulder, dealing 5 damage. The pitchfork he carried jabbed towards the floating octopus, but the attack went wide. With a snarl, the devil turned and flew towards the summoning circles near his throne. The flying sword jabs out at Auro'pol, hitting for 9 damage and knocking him unconscious!

@Ermine - The girl with no luck in melee ironically managed to be lucky that she was out of melee with everything but people who currently wouldn't ve attacking her...except the guy with the octopus. Oh, he would suffer ever so much later. But for now, she would worry about the bigger threat: the devil. If she could kill nothing else, that would be what would die by her hands...or...magic. whatever. She had seen it take a hit or two (she didn't have the best view of it), so her choice was obvious: Toll the Dead (in addition to transferring her hex uselessly, dealing 9 damage).

@Oraculum - It might have been an effect of - something to do with the half-elf (between the horrid countenance before him and other, more interesting things to busy himself with, Ulor had by this point forgotten what exactly), but he did not seem to feel the devil's bite as sharply as he would have otherwise. Still, while he was not left dazed, the creature turned tail and fled faster than he could react. There was, however, still time to strike it down. Gesturing in the general direction of his companions with a loudly whispered "Finish it while it is here!", he swiftly transitioned into an incantatory motion, conjuring another howling stream of power. The octopus, content with having eluded the fiend's blow, remained hovering nearby. [Ulor keeps Eldritch Blasting at the devil and misses. Octy doesn't do much.]

@Cao the Exiled - Auro'pol is KO'd and must make a Death Saving Throw.

@JBRam2002 - Seeing the others struggle to make contact with the devil as it ran away, Eilina held up her arcane crystal and muttered a few words, sending three blasts of pure magical energy towards her target. The missiles homed in on the spined devil, making contact and taking him down in a puff of infernal smoke just before it could reach the summoning circle. [Eilina casts Magic Missile on the Spined Devil for 11 damage, sending it back to the nine hells from whence it came.]

@corneredbliss - As the enemies fell by Yvah's strikes, the bard threw her fists into the air in triumph; if she wasn't having any luck this time around, at least one of them was. "Yes!" She nearly reached over and hooked her hand around the back of the feline's neck in celebration, but figured physical contact in a still ongoing fight might not be the best of ideas. Realizing that she had yet to see where the rest of the party had gone to, she straightened up and took a scan of the field behind her, only to find that someone had already fainted across the way. And then remembering the girl, Ary whipped her gaze around until she spotted Peony nearby, out of harm's way for the moment. She breathed a sigh of relief as she returned her attention to the sword that seemed to be the only enemy left. Soon she was singing a jumble of discordant notes that only it could hear - if only it could actually register what it was hearing. It was only after she'd cast her spell that Araerys understood the thing couldn't take any damage from it, since it was a gods damned sword. Still, the melody caused it to flee from the unconscious male until it was positioned in the top left corner of the terrain, and Ary, a bit miffed that she hadn't caught her mistake, simply acted as if that was all she had meant to do all along. To the party across the water, she nodded her head toward the hostile blade and exclaimed, "Last one! Go get 'em so we can take a breather fer once!" [Ary casts Dissonant Whispers at Swordy - no damage, but forces it to move as far away as it can.]

@Ms Ravenwinter - Just as Yvah pulled herself ready for a sprint at the spikey fiend, it slammed into the floor with the full force of its run with a set of arcane darts fizzling out of its hide. She turned on her heel as the metallic scrape of the animated sword drew her attention to the final enemy. She sprung toward it, dashing at it with a staggering speed as she immediately drew her staff against it. There was no anatomy to exploit, or pressure points to strike, and so the blow seemed to rebound almost uselessly. Only a subtle dent was dealt to the blade, its edge still keen and its movements barely staggered. [3 damage dealt (Resists nonmagic bludgeoning)!]

@LovelyAnastasia - Solglia didn't appreciate her passive part in this battle. She wasn't injured, she wasn't I'll and she wasn't lame, so how was it she stood in the background like some sharp-ear healer casting pretty spells instead of fighting? Grumbling and in a sour mood, she shifted the warhammer in her hands. Heavy leaden steps carried her to ever lasting Sword. It reminded her of the spiritual weapon she could call up form time to time. With a huff, she tilted her head back and squared her shoulders. And swung. This time the hammer shifted in the air, her stubborn will guiding it with more force than usual. It connected with the Sword, broadly against the blade. The she dwarf grinned like a wolf baring its teeth. Much better. (Attack: 19 Damage: 9 )

The Flying Sword collapses to the ground, the magical energy battered out of it.


All players gain 2700 EXP! Ulor will stabilize Auro'pol, who will be unconscious for 4 hours or until someone heals him.

Though the fiend had been blasted back to whatever foul pit it had crept out of and the animated sword, which seemed to be the last of the great chamber's more bloodthirsty inhabitants, put to flight - someone with more of a sense for humour could have taken the opportunity to quip about the half-elf's singing making even witless constructs run for their lives, but such jesters seemed to be in short supply - and finally hammered with less care than a smith would have used, neither Ulor nor the octopus did immediately relax their stances, still as battle-ready as the two could have them. The former looked suspiciously about the vault, almost visibly straining his ear for sounds that could betray any other lurking peril, while the latter swung and rotated over his head, thrusting out its eyes in a slightly unsettling way as it tried to observe almost all directions at once.

It was thus probably the octopus that noticed that the sword had shed blood aplenty despite not being wielded by any hand, since Ulor's stare had become lost in the sewers' water when he turned, roused by a mental nudge. Still massaging the shoulder where the devil had struck him, which, while clearly not grievously, had nonetheless been burned along with the rest of the body earlier that night, he hobbled over to the fallen elf, the flesh-clothed spirit trailing close behind. A curious sight, if the word still held in here, between hellish emissaries and plane-shaking rituals. It was clearly an elf, but not of any sort he had ever seen before. His skin was uncommonly pale, and, when Ulor bent down and pried the lid of one of his eyes open, he saw nothing but a small reflection of himself. It might have been due to being on the brink of death, as Ulor was fairly certain was the case, but one could never know.

Should we leave him? It is unlikely he knows any more than the others we found.

No. This one saw more. Besides, more fleshbodies with us is better than fewer.

We could pry into his memories now without the bother of another-

You have mindhands for grasping, not claws. We will need to improve that. For now, having this one awake will be safer. In all senses.

If you say so.

Ulor crouched next to the elf and began to rummage through whatever unholy foulness had its nest in his backpack. After some moments, he produced from it a rather nondescript, filthy rag. It was unclear of what colour it had been before being reduced to its current state, if any, but it was fairly obvious that this must have happened a long time ago. He motioned with a finger, and the octopus, who had been hovering overhead, let some sort of translucent ichor dribble from its beak onto the strip of cloth. Though all this did was make the rag even dirtier, Ulor seemed to be satisfied, and, clumsily turning the elf over in a way that did not help his comfort, tightly wound and knotted it over the worst cuts. Hopefully, this would suffice to hold most of the bleeding until the freed captive was in better shape, or could be given over to actually competent medical care. Or both.

Still in her battle stance, flaming blade at the ready - there was no indication that they were completely safe yet - Peony sighed as she saw the fallen elf. He hadn't tried to do anything to ruin her trust yet, and alive, he was certainly better use to her than dead. Not like the...Okay, what's this all about?

She watched the odd spectacle that was Ulor performing an even more odd spectacle with his tentacled companion that she wasn't sure would do much good, if it didn't mke things worse. There was no way what he was doing was sanitary.

"Could you not try to ruin people's health?" Peony's voice was raised, though her tone was one of annoyance, but she continued in a grumble almost to herself, "Striking people with lightning, using the juices of ghost of a tasty lunch on a rag probably used to clean your face after eating that thing to treat wounds. Probably going to leave this place with filth fever." she walked over, sheathing her blade while she pulled her one remaining healing potion out of her belt. "If you want to heal people, do it right. Food doesn't heal wounds, no matter how tasty it is." She momentarily glared at the octospirit before presenting the potion to Ulor with a flourish, bending down to cradle the elf, and slowly pouring the liquid down his throat. "Like this."

When the elf came to, however, she whispered in his ear, "don't expect this generosity again until you earn it."

Chip, the squirrel who had previously tagged along with Ceria on the cathedral and sewer escapades, had retreated to a safe distance away from the rest of his elf-friend's round-ear-two-legs group that had tried to murder him. If he was anything but a squirrel and could vow, he would have vowed never to be alone with anyone in that party except his pointy-eared friend elf. Even then, maybe not the pointy-ears either.

No, Chip had had just about human companionship for the time being. His last act was to run after Ceria and reunite her with her round-ear-two-leg friends, the lot of whom he could still smell quite clearly. As he tracked their pungent, city-dwelling odor along with his elvish friend's more pleasant scent of crushed pine needles, back through the city to the warm-fire-lots-of-doors place where he had met the charming elf, he realized that the crushed pine needles scent extended far beyond the inn.

After running through the city for what seemed like an eternity to a squirrel, he finally came to upon the door of a house. As the first ray of dawn struck the door, the aforementioned elongated piece of wood opened to reveal his pointy-eared friend. He squeaked in delight and bounded onto her shoulder, not even noticing the new bright blue bad-bad-hunting-tool strapped across her back. Ceria's expression cheered up considerably as she beheld him. "Chip! Hey little guy!" Chip bristled on her shoulder, scratching her left cheek with a flex of his paw. "Sorry," she winced. "I mean, hey 'Destroyer of Acorns'!" The squirrel nodded, satisfied, and chittered again at her. Ceria's eyes widened. "My friends went through a sewer tunnel in a boat? I guess I'd better go wait for them. Thank you Chip! I've loved having you around. Why don't you go back to your den, hmm? You have food to go store." She offered him a finger, which he latched on to and nibbled affectionately, while she lowered him to the ground. He ran off away from her intended direction of travel, and Ceria smiled as she watched him go.

The elf did not deviate from her planned course of returning to the inn, but now she had the intent of returning to where the party had killed the gelatinous cube to wait and see if her companions were waiting for her or if there was another way she could reach them. If the water was shallow enough, Ceria considered the possibility of wading through the icky muck to reach her friends, but if Chip said he had seen them in a boat, they probably went further than one could feasibly walk. Rather than further sully her own already revolting ripped and burned attire, she decided it would be best to merely wait in the sewers for awhile for them and made her way hence as fast as elvenly possible.

As she ran, she tried to wipe the soot and other unholy grime from her face but only succeeded in smudging the dirt around a little. She was fully aware that she looked like complete crap and she hated it. Already, Ephola had dirty handprints on it's mottled blue surface from where it had been handled. She silently vowed that whenever she got to leave this accursed cityscape, there WOULD be time for her to find a stream or a hot spring to privately bath in.

A metallic clatter marked the final deathrattle of the incursion, an inert blade crashing to the wet stone at Solglia's feet. Yvah turned quick in her stance, snapping her gaze all around the room until it was clear to her that the hostility had passed. Her chest caved slightly as she sighed with relief. Nearly everyone stood, but to her side lay the bleeding body of a deathly pale elf. Another sacrifice for these aquatic cultists, it seemed. It almost looked as if they had came too late and done too little to save him, given a tense moment where she watched if his slowing breath would cease even after the bandages. They didn't, thankfully, and kicked back into full action again after another of the slated sacrifices poured a magically shimmering poultice down his gullet.

Again, Yvah turned, this time to Araerys. The bard seemed in dire straits indeed. With some effort, Yvah bounded over the tainted river, feet and palms planting on either side of the ruined corpse of the lesser dragonkin. Standing straight, with a flick of her tail, she wiped the grime of the floor off of her hands. Instead of a look of minor disgust at the mess of the place, she look concerned at Ary. Leaning from side to side, her eyes easily catching the torchlight as they flick around over the half-elf’s form, she inspects the extent of the damage. “Are you going to be well?”

Araerys, so very relieved that the fight was finally finished, resheathed her rapier in order to place her hands over her knees and double over as exhaustion finally sank into her body. While definitely better off than the unconscious fellow who looked to be a new member of their party, the bard was very much looking forward to a rest of any sort. She watched as a few of her party members tended to the male’s health, only tearing her squinted eyes away from them as Yvah approached. “Ah, yes, I think?” she replied, straightening up from her half-crouch to as best a standstill as she could. “Better ‘n that guy, fer sure. But a bit of a sit down wouldn’t be unwelcome.” She nodded her head at the feline in turn: “Are you doin’ okay?”

“I can still…” Yvah started to cough, covering her mouth to hack into her hand. A couple small spots of red dotted her palm when she pulled it away. She sighed, some grief tinging her belaboured exhalation. It seemed she wasn’t so used to seeing blood on her hands anymore. Looking back to Araerys, with some disappointment in her voice, she said, “I can still fight.”

The bard’s eyebrows furrowed together in concern, assuming that what she saw in her hand was not a pleasant sight. Her reply urged an involuntary scoff and a dismissive wave of Ary’s hand, though the half-elf did take a quick scan of their surroundings for any further signs of danger. It seemed they were in the clear for the time being, but these sewers had already proved nasty at every turn, and it wouldn’t do well to let the guards down just yet. Still, she said, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, there. Just get yer breath back.”

Given a moment to breathe, Yvah set out within this main antechamber. Pacing around the walls, searching for things of interest, she eventually made her way to one of the twin ceremonial pillars. Examining the column that the pale elf was bound to, Yvah found little of note, but could tell that something must’ve been important there. She just didn’t know what to look for. “Ay!” she called, “If either of you acolytes wants to take a look, I think there should be something here!”

Ary made her way over, wincing a little at the wound in her side now that the majority of the adrenaline had worn off, and took a peek at the throne. After a few moments of poking at it, it came to her attention that the seat could be lifted. “It looks like I can open this,” she said to Yvah, reaching out to do just that.

The cat monk turned from her examination of the ceremonial pillar toward the sound of Ary’s voice. Yvah had seen the throne there before, but didn’t think of it as much other than a fancy chair until the bard started prying at the seat. She trotted over, pulling her tools from her billowing clothes, and knelt before the throne. With a handpick, she start pulling up at any structure of the thing until she saw movement. Cautiously, she held the secret compartment open just enough to slide the pick inside, and felt around for any mechanism that could be a trap. All she found were the hinges at the back, and she pulled the seat open freely.

Yvah had only seen some teasing glints within the forbidden storage, but as the hinges made their dim squeal in protest of her plundering her eyes sparkled nearly as much of the fistfuls of gems inside. Stacks of coin all in a neat pile to a side, with vials and dusty parchments to its flank, and gems of many sorts and colors dotted atop it all. The thieving feline seemed almost giddy compared to the gloom cast over her throughout this cathedral delve. Furred fingers made quick work stashing the jewels in the same pouch as the others, similarly making no attempts to hide it. However, the coinage was in a rather heavy abundance, and she wasn’t inclined to carry it all with her.

Yvah turned within her crouch toward the party and waved her arm as the other held the distended cloth pouch aloft. “We just found the tithe, boys and girls!”

>Religion of 10 to examine the pillars
>Help action to Araerys, resulting in an Investigation of 14 on the throne.
>Short rest Hit Dice roll yields +6 to hp.

The blade-wielding contents of the third tank the party had opened (Ulor did not have much else in the way of references for her, and, having been looking another way during most of the latest battle, could not even say what she had struck down) had somehow seen the occasion as an opportunity to rebuke his mending methods. Ulor scowled, or rather half-scowled by contorting his face in a slightly concerning way, so that only the one side of it that was partly turned towards the girl was frowning. For all he was concerned, the spattered makeshift bandage was enough for the elf not to die from bleeding within the hour, and therefore all he needed to do there. Sanitary? For all he knew, this prisoner might have come from warrens churning with maggots and dipping with slime. He was quite certain he had once read of elves that lived in just such a place. Or was it goblins? Regardless-

It is astounding how many mortals see the food matter the wrong way around.

"Food doesn't heal wounds, but drink does?" was all Ulor had the time to reply between the octopus's commentary and the feline calling out from further down the chamber. With a grunt, he rose from his crouch, propping himself up with his staff, and began to hobble towards the throne the fiend had been sitting on. While the prospect of a "tithe" had sparked his curiosity, seeing as these people were likely to toss all sorts of this under such a name, whether they belonged there or not, he could not but stop to throw a glance at the altar and the pillars surrounding it. What he saw was apparently notable enough for him to turn as he walked, approaching to peer at the constructions more closely, scratching and rapping on the stone. The mouth of a god... There was an odd, unnatural tension in the air between the columns. For some odd trick of the magical weave, he could almost picture a thread running from the altar to its twin on the other side of the sewer channel. No, that one was the mouth. This was the hand that brought the meals to it. He could feel that the unholy maw hungered still, calling silently for the life of hundreds to be fed into it. And yet...

No one has been sacrificed here yet.

Not that we can see, at least. There might have been others before.

As satisfied as he could have been with his brief survey, Ulor put an end to the detour and joined the pair near the throne. Bending over the seat, he began to rather unceremoniously rustle through its contents. The gold would certainly be useful, if everyone in this city was as averse to haggling as that one man who sold... What was he trying to buy then? Well, not that it mattered any longer.

There were also scrolls inscribed with what seemed to be arcane symbols. He lifted them one by one, running a finger over the lines of the signs and muttering something that did not appear to belong to any language under the stars. As he set each parchment aside, he briefly turned up his head and called out in hollow tones: "There are an incantation of insight... One of elemental chaos... One of mire- No, of treacherous soil." He doubted anyone else in the group would have much use for the spells, or even understand what he was speaking of, but it was safer to inform them of his findings in the event he should forget them later. Indeed, maybe there already was something the scrolls would be needed for? All the better to announce them properly.

"That might become necessary for one of them" he added, without looking up, while the octopus pointed one of its tentacles at a glinting pearl held in the brawler's paw. Who knew, they might have been capable of selling the things.

Last in the receptacle were two flasks, filled with unusual-looking fluids. One of them, red and glimmering, he recognised as similar to what had been forcibly administered to the unconscious elf. A drop of it on the tongue brought a fleeting, but potent sensation of vigour coursing through his body. Well. Perhaps drink can heal after all. Not wounds, maybe, but... The other was dull and layered like a crystalline tower. Its taste was likewise one of strength, but of a far more focused sort, echoing through hands and feet.

"Life and power held in glass." Those were simpler, likely accessible to the rest, and he had little need of reinforcing his toes. Nonetheless, if none would take them - as he dimly hoped in choosing mystifying words - he would not pass the opportunity of performing some alchemical experiments. Small, of course, and perfectly manageable. As circumstances would allow.

Yvah glanced back down to the coins after calling the others over. It was quite a huge mound of them, and she wondered at how the fish-priests had come to acquire so much of it. For now, it was of little consequence. She could not carry it herself, and the sack of gems was clacking against itself almost too much as is. If she handled much more of the valuables, she wouldn't be able to move very quietly at all, and there seemed to be more of this place to discover yet.

After tying the pouch of shiny rocks to her hip beneath the folds of her robes, she swung her pack from her. Reaching into it, after planting it to the stone, she pulled out a lantern with a manual shudder. Once she lit the candle within, she poked around the darker corners of the room. Not much to it other than some extra water tanks. But while lighting one of the shadowed corners, she did spy upon something that caught her eye. Where one of the tunnels delved deeper, the other seemed to host a fountain.

As she gazed into the hallway, she idly closed off the shudder to her lantern, the candlelight then blocked. She stooped low as she often does, and stepped cautiously toward the sequestered fountain. There did not seem to be much to it at a glance, but there was a corner to turn across from it. Peeking around the bend, she saw frightened people in tatters, all barred from escape. They had not met her eyes, for they had not noticed her, and so she peeled back out of the room. Leaning out of the entrance and looking out to her party, she waved out to gather their attention. "Psst!" she hissed in a hushed tone, waving the others over one last time before stepping back in. She pulled at the lantern's mechanical cover as she poked her head from the corner this time, light shining faintly upon the apparent prisoners.

"It's okay," she whispered out to them softly, trying her best to look positive despite herself, "We're here to protect you."

As the party scoured the area and healed up their companion elf, Eilina had noticed the spellbook among his belongings as she helped gather them together. "A wizard, hm?" she asked, holding out the book for him to accrpt. "Explains why you got cut down so fast. You did well to last as long as you did without your focus. We should swap spells later, if you feel up to it."

The discoveries soon drew her attention away, and Eilina joined Ulor by the altar. "Look... the altar itself is clean of blood, but at the edges, there's a few spatterings. That means either this altar was placed here on top of a pol of blood, or..." Before another word left her mouth, she had drawn her dagger, lightly slicing the palm of her hand and letting droplets of blood spill onto the altar. As they landed, the crimson immediately faded, absorbed into the altar. "Or this ritual drank the blood, giving the life energy to the other creature. If we were even a few days later, that wyrmling may have absorbed enough power to be as strong as a dragon youth... and that would have been bad for Bourgund."

The beckoning from Yvah drew the others' attention, and as she made herself visible to the apparent prisoners, they recoiled from the closed door for a moment. One elderly human pressed forward, staring at Yvah with distrust. "Protect us, hm? We heard you fighting out there. How did a mere kurjian girl take out a dragon and a devil? Or are you working with them?!"

"Hush, Gramps," came a feminine voice from a small halfling woman. "We've had just about enough of that ungrateful attitude." She pulled the older man aside and pressed her face against the barred door. "Thank you so much. One of the guards had the keys. They left just as the fighting started. I'm so relieved that someone came to find us. I thought we were all going to die."

"We were!" retorted the older man. "That was the plan, what with them altars and sacrifices and such. Now get us out of here! My old bones can't take the dampness much longer. What are ya waiting for?!"

Rushing to join Yvah, if for no other reason than to have a chance to kill something, Peony peeked around the corner. She wasn't trying to hide at all, and if anything wanted to draw any attention to her. But as it turned out, a conversation with other prisoners had already started. Unfortunately for her, she had nothing to add; she hadn't met these people, after all. But the least her group could do was let them out.

>Insight on the dead guys: 21.

They'd said the keys were on one of the guards, right? There were some fishmen who came from this direction when they'd arrived, and of those present, they were the only ones that made any sense to be guards. Peony did a quick search of their bodies for the keys, which gave results without much effort.

She hurriedly returned to the cell, holding the most likely key up in the air victoriously. "I hope none of you soaked too long in that water, or that you didn't soak at all. I'd hate to have ended up in a cell with the horrid smell of other...people." She inserted the key and turned in an overly dramatic hero pose, internally hoping it was the right key and that these people would idolize her.

At Yvah's 'psst'ing, Araerys made her way toward the kurjian and was probably not as surprised as she should have been to find even more prisoners. Because of course there would be more prisoners down here. Why not? For all she knew, they'd find a whole civilization of fish-people prisoners around the next crap-filled corner.

She was getting really tired of the underground, really quickly.

The bard hung back a little by the fountain as Peony successfully unlocked the cell with the key, eyes speedily darting over each of them as they passed through the door to check their person with her arms folded idly over her chest. There was a lot of them - too many, actually. Eight, she counted. How were they going to get this many people to safety if they keep running into fights like they've been doing? Concern colored her tone, perhaps for a different reason than would be expected, as she asked the group: "What happened to you all? How long have you been in there?"

As they answered, Araerys stepped through the now crowded hall to enter the cell for herself, and suddenly there appeared on the ceiling of the room a few twirling, dancing lights that cast visibility on whatever else was in there with her. Wasn't much; just two empty tanks and a drainage grate, which looked as if someone had tried to pry it open to no avail. Her eyes lingered on the grate for a few moments before turning back to the bodies in the hallway, her shoulder finding purchase against the door frame as she once again took count of them all with her eyes.

> Minor Illusion for a disco ball.

All things considered, Ulor was not quite surprised that the gnome's theory about the functioning of the altars had not occurred to him before. He did feel there was a link or a throat between them, and, now that he thought of it, the juvenile wyrm had been crouching over the second one when the party surprised it. Nevertheless, it seemed amazing that not all rituals should, after all, have been directed towards something outside the material planes, nor the energy of sacrifices consumed only by gods and their likes. Were these dragon-worshippers, even advised by a devil as they had been, truly so mad as to have spilled hard-gained blood not for their divine or infernal patrons, but for a terrestrial creature, of all things?

Can you believe this? With all these people, they could have summoned much more than a dragon!

Perhaps, but they might have not known how. Or not dared risk conjuring something they did not know as well as their dragon.

If their goal was to wreak havoc on the city, that would not have mattered, would it? But I cannot see how that would further their plan, unless that was to be the true sacrifice...

However, either Ulor could not voice his thoughts out loud as clearly as that, or he did not think anyone would find them as useful as the octopus did, because his answer to the gnome was merely "It would have been bad, yes. But why would it have been good for them?", followed by a pensive grunt.

Being done with both altar and trove, he finally became aware of the rest of "all these people". Although his eyes soon wandered away from the cell's direction at first, he seemed to be struck with some sort of idea after a few moments. Stowing away the scrolls and flasks lest they be forgotten due to not being shiny enough, he made his way towards the newly freed group, passing over the boat with a clumsy display of acrobatics that prematurely called a sphinx's riddle to mind. Once he was close enough to them to be within earshot without need to shout - something he was not certain his throat could have taken - he pointed a finger at none of them in particular and, still slightly out of breath, wheezed broadly in their direction on the heels of his companions' more amicable questions.

"More importantly, what have you seen and heard down here?"

The small crowd of commoners were led out into the wider room, past the bubbling fountain to the somewhat bloody mass of corpses that had been left after the party's attacks. Eight in total, seemingly with no pattern to who was captured. There was a mix of men and women, and although most were human, mirroring the largely human demographic of the city, there was a half-elf, an elf, and a dwarf among the captured. One of the men nearly fainted at the large amounts of blood pooling from the dragon's corpse, but the majority either looked away or were otherwise less affected. The old man continued his grumbling and griping as he was led from the cell, seemingly less than grateful to his liberators.

In his stead, the female elf spoke up, pulling back her hooded cloak to reveal her flaming red hair. "We were all grabbed from the streets," she replied to the bard's question. Most of us were grabbed from behind while walking alone in alleys, and a sack tossed over our heads. When we could see again, we were here with those fishmen guarding us. They took anything sharp or valuable from us, and we've been here since. It's hard to hear conversations over the noise from that fountain, but there was a lot of chanting going on."

The dwarf nodded and stepped forward, looking damp and sullen. "Aye, she speaks true. I was the first from almost a month ago, and I tried to pry up the grate, but couldn't get it open. Probably wouldn't of done us much good though; it smelled of sewage in there."

"We just gonna stand around jabbering, or are we going to get out of this shithole?!" cried the old man. "I've got a life to get back to, assuming they haven't held my funeral yet, the damn ingrates." He stepped forward to the boat that gently tapped against the bridge with the flow of the current and stepped down into it, no longer willing to wait.

"There is still more to explore," Eilina countered. "We coukd send someone back with the majority of the prisoners while the rest of us try to learn more, or we could just leave this to the authorities for later." It seemed as if she had no stake in it either way, but a gleam in her eye showed that she would likely volunteer to stay if that option was chosen.

Peony follows behind the prisoners, not taking her eyes off of them, as they leave the cell, slamming the cell door behind them with a look on her face that reads "not even a thank you?" at first, before transitioning into a "if this old man says one more thing, his family will at least have a body to bury." She draws her sword as the man steps into the boat, almost as a promise to do as her expression commanded. She took a deep breath before stepping closer to the boat herself and shaking it with her foot while he stepped in, whispering to the old man (trying her best not to be heard by anyone but him) "You are no more important than anyone else here, and my master would want your head for your baseless pride."

As she turned to walk away from him and to the rest of the survivors, raising her blade to be in front of her face, its flames now glowing white, she muttered a prayer.

"Those wishing to leave, please board the boat. I'm sure you'll have the protection of at least one of us while the rest of us make sure we clear the rest of this filthy place of any who would harm the city. May you be sheltered by Tymora's power, and ever safe from Beshaba's gaze." She pauses momentarily, before taking her knee, blade held downward, looking upward overdramatically. "O Tymora, please aid these people in whatever struggles they must overcome, that they may one day do so for others, with or without acknowledgement or recompense. May they reach their homes safely and be embraced by the loving arms of family. May they be granted your fortune in their endeavors, or act on your guidance to aid in your wishes." She stands, grasping the hilt of her blade and, with a flourish, resuming her prepared, but not hostile, stance toward the old man, winking, and blowing a kiss with her free hand.

>Thaumaturgy to slam the door to the cell shut.
>Thaumaturgy to make her voice sound more ominous, but not louder, for the threat (advantage on intimidation)
>Going Vox Machina lite and intimidating the old man (prepared to go all the way if necessary): 12
>Even more Thaumaturgy to change color of the flames on her sword (because thematic)
>Hopefully calming prayer: 10

The thunderous clang of the cell door's violent closure still rang through Yvah's ears as she slipped out of the hallway ahead of the others. Horrified prisoners started to flock toward the ready vessel still bobbing about in the infested waters. It seemed best to her for the party to have someone help the defenseless escape safely. Though, how much party was even left was debatable.

Yvah pulled at the staff upon her back, pressing one end firmly to the glossy, blood-stained stone beneath and strapping her lantern atop the opposite end. As she lofted the small point of light within the air, she spoke shakily but with some authority. She knew at least someone had to take the reigns of this mess. "Solglia, you seem the most ready to leave," she turned then to the dwarven cleric, "Why don't you help escort them safely to their homes? There's no telling if there are more scaleys in hiding."

Yvah stepped closer to the rest of the able-bodied fighters among the prisoners, the ones she had seen fight alongside her. "You all can go if you need. None of you have any obligation to stay at this point. Only me and Ulor do, now," she said the last point quietly, under her breath. She soon broke the momentary silence she had caused, nodding pointedly at Eilina, "But you can stick around if you'd rather."

Her assertion then dwindled, her shoulders slumping as she closely approached Araerys. "You don't have to stay," she said in a somber tone and with hushed volume, "None of this is your fight. You've already done more than enough. Leave now while you can." Guilt seemed to spell out in her eyes as she spoke, especially after examining some of the bard's injuries. "You don't owe us anything, Ary."

The air was heavy still, even with the old man's irritating gripes and Peony's prayer. It was almost a feeling of relief when Yvah stepped up to take the reins of the situation, finally filling the weird silence with something substantial. However, Araerys was quick to notice that it was ultimately a mere front; it wasn't like the kurjian was trying very hard to hide the fact. Or perhaps she was.

Regardless, the bard looked upon her with melancholy eyes. Indeed, her body was pleading for rest, and as the prisoners clambered into the boat, it nearly pulled her to join them. Yvah was right, and she had really no more stake in staying with the group, having paid off the previous fumblings with the ruffians above ground threefold by now. Gods, has it only been a day or so since their initial encounter? It seemed ages that she'd been with these people, and the half-elf felt it in whatever it was that kept her feet firmly in place, even as she was receiving her pardon. After a moment of silence, simply watching the excess of their party board the vessel, Ary gave a small shake of her head, resolution spawning from somewhere in her conscience.

"Don' be so dramatic," she said in a similarly hushed voice, though hers maintained a tone of finality to it as she continued, only looking to Yvah towards the end of her thought. "I didn't come this far with you all to not find any conclusion to whutever the hell it is yer after. Call it curiosity." Araery's face shifted into the softer expression she'd held as she played for them all in the cathedral, and her volume dropped just slightly lower as she spoke only to the lass now. Her eyes responded to the feline's guilt with an inexplicable, nurturing gaze. "Besides. I won' let your friend have died fer nothin'. We go on."

The old man was taken aback by the Peony's words, and the only thing further heard from him was quiet wordless mutterings under his breath as the boat rocked slightly. The prisoners generally seemed respectful, if not grateful, for the prayer, some even taking the time to bow their heads in reverence. When it was completed, they piled into the boat which barely seemed to hold them all.

"Well, I'm going back," came the response from the dwarven cleric. "Tossed in a goldfish bowl to rot, then fights like that? I've had about enough of this sewer." Solglia stepped into the boat along with the other prisoners, then looked back to Eilina and Auro'pol. "You coming with me?"

Eilina shook her head. "Professional curiosity requires me to stay," she said with a smile. "At least for now. It's not every day you see fishmen, devils, and dragons all working together."

"Suit yourself. I'll send the boat back with the current so you won't have to swim in... that." Solglia waited for the moon elf bladesinger to make his choice, then shoved off with the prisoners, paddling against the flow with the aid of one pf the stronger among them. They soon rounded the corner out of sight.

"All right. Let's go chevk out this other path, then!" Eilina suggested, almost giddy with excitement. Either she was feeling like stretching her legs after being cramped so long, or that "professional curiosity" she mentioned had her nearly hyper, but the gnome rushed towards the side passage as fast as her short legs would carry her.

As everyone eventually moved together, following the path behind the devil's throne, they came to a dead end with a lit brazier still smoking in the enclosed space. Other than the fire, possibly magical in nature, there was little else of interest asides from the scattered gems and coins on the floor. Another 20 gold pieces, about a hundred silver, and four bright blue sapphires greeted them. A king's reward this was not. After about twenty minutes had passed, the sound of the folding boat thudding against the bridge could be heard.

Motioning for the others to remain where they stood, or perhaps simply giving an inadvertent twitch of the fingers, Ulor advanced into the small chamber, eyes darting aside now and then, but mostly focused upon the flames at its center. The octopus had floated up to the ceiling and begun to slowly rotate in what might have been its equivalent of its master's inspection. Neither paid much attention to the coins; Ulor briefly shifted his gaze among the sapphires, tracing a line between them in the air with his finger (a line which rapidly devolved into some sort of abstruse scrambled sign), but soon lost interest when he ascertained that they were not lying in any particular order or shape, and began to circle the brazier with irregular paces, occasionally stopping to lean in and either smell or pass his hand over the flames.

There was an odd sensation about the fire. It could have contained traces of magic, and at one point Ulor was certain he could feel it in there, but it immediately occurred to him that it might have simply been the heat. Indeed, it could not be anything else than the heat. Or was this actually an illusion of heat due to the spells that lay on it? Yes, it must be this- He shook his head in irritation and began to examine the brazier itself. Though it was unclear if the flames had at arcane emanations, their smell, it seemed to him, was certainly unusual. He thought he recognised the smell of certain vaguely familiar ritual components, and, if this was true, the brazier itself was bound to yield further clues. Its shape was the correct one, as far as he knew, and were those symbols etched on its sides? Whether by accident or design, they appeared to match the rest.

"The hellspawn came from here." he called out to the group. "And might come again." He looked back at the fire. If it was still burning, there was a chance that the link to the nether planes might still have been open. The only way to be certain was by testing it - if only he knew how.

Asmod- Demog- Is that even the right one?

The octopus pirouetted in midair as if to shrug. The ones beyond had not told Ulor much about fiends, though he suspected they could if they wanted to. With these creatures afoot, knowledge of their invocations might soon become useful, or even necessary. He noted to himself that the matter was worth memorising for when They would speak again. Surely They would understand.

>Arcana roll of 6 to check if the fire is magical.
>Religion roll of 16 to get a feeling of its purpose and try to recall some definitely safe diabolic conjurations.