“He knows we are coming, doesn’t he?”, Lyssa whispers softly.
Oslando nods. “Be ready”, he says as his grip around the newly acquired ebony sword tightens.
As they silently approach the room, the chanting stops and is immediately followed by a swirling sound, like the growl of a violent whirlpool at sea, ready to swallow any pirate that comes within its all-devouring reach. “How can I serve you, Father Simion?”, they hear a deep male voice mutter.
(Perception 21)
Even though there is still at least twenty feet between them, the heroes can hear someone else in the room, someone that wasn’t there before.
“You are here to help me postpone something. Look down the hallway.”
Their eyes widen as they hear how the command is followed by slow footsteps, undoubtedly coming in their direction.
“Fuck, shit, arse, fuck, fuck”, Bruq keeps repeating in an almost compulsive manner and picks up the pace. The others follow his example immediately, but two seconds later they all stop moving.
In front of them stands a demonic humanoid with a deep purple skin and two small horns sprouting from his skull. He holds an axe in one hand and a short metal chain in the other, connected to the other source of sound. A three foot tall hound starts barking at them, breathing small flames with every growl he makes. The beast is skinless, showing off his pink, muscular anatomy, and his eyes are as black as ink. He looks just as vicious as his master. Both Rowynna and the cult’s leader, Simion, join him.
“These vermin are here to take the Enochian Mirror”, Simion shouts. “The angels will not have it!” He clenches his jaw, spitting these last words from behind his grinding teeth. “Listen, puppets of those who call themself divine, this relic is not yours to take. It belongs to us, to him!” He makes a wild hand gesture to the summoned demon, whose thumb is stroking the handle of his double bit axe. The light of the mirror reflects off the cutting edge, showing the signs of previous battles. If the weapon could speak, it would beg for replacement, to be laid to rest.
“What do you mean? It is an angelic artefact, not something infernal.” Alexander points his sceptre towards them, but they don’t seem to back down.
“This object was stolen from my homeworld”, the horned demonic warrior says, holding back the jolting hound, who is eager to sink its sharp teeth into the appetizing meals in front of it. “The angels cursed it so we couldn’t travel between realms, making it impossible for us to escape when they attacked.”
(Insight 10)
“I don’t know what to make of this”, Oslando says to the others, looking over his shoulder to make sure the cultists can't overhear him.
Lyssa nods cautiously. “I find it difficult to believe the statement of thieving, bloodthirsty fanatics over what Hadriel told us. If I wanted to trick us, I think I would serve you the same goblin shit story.” She clears her throat, making sure she is prepared to use the hexing effects of her siren voice if needed to.
“But even if that were be the case”, Mero says as he takes a few steps forward, “you shouldn’t have stolen it. You could have asked for it. You don’t have to use all this violence. That’s just - well - not nice.” His naive words silence them all for a second.
(Spell save DC 13 versus constitution 11)
The black gnome takes a step forwards. “I’ll show what it would look like if we were not nice”, Rowynna exclaims and she stretches her arm out, fingers spread and her palm facing the ground. Her hand grows cold for just a heartbeat, right before it emits a serpentine-like ray of a sickly green light at the sorcerer. Before Merodius can act to try and deflect this foul and toxic beam, he is hit straight in the chest and falls backwards, making a dull thud as his weakened body hits the stone floor.
“These vermin are here to take the Enochian Mirror”, Simion shouts. “The angels will not have it!” He clenches his jaw, spitting these last words from behind his grinding teeth. “Listen, puppets of those who call themself divine, this relic is not yours to take. It belongs to us, to him!” He makes a wild hand gesture to the summoned demon, whose thumb is stroking the handle of his double bit axe. The light of the mirror reflects off the cutting edge, showing the signs of previous battles. If the weapon could speak, it would beg for replacement, to be laid to rest.
“What do you mean? It is an angelic artefact, not something infernal.” Alexander points his sceptre towards them, but they don’t seem to back down.
“This object was stolen from my homeworld”, the horned demonic warrior says, holding back the jolting hound, who is eager to sink its sharp teeth into the appetizing meals in front of it. “The angels cursed it so we couldn’t travel between realms, making it impossible for us to escape when they attacked.”
(Insight 10)
“I don’t know what to make of this”, Oslando says to the others, looking over his shoulder to make sure the cultists can't overhear him.
Lyssa nods cautiously. “I find it difficult to believe the statement of thieving, bloodthirsty fanatics over what Hadriel told us. If I wanted to trick us, I think I would serve you the same goblin shit story.” She clears her throat, making sure she is prepared to use the hexing effects of her siren voice if needed to.
“But even if that were be the case”, Mero says as he takes a few steps forward, “you shouldn’t have stolen it. You could have asked for it. You don’t have to use all this violence. That’s just - well - not nice.” His naive words silence them all for a second.
(Spell save DC 13 versus constitution 11)
The black gnome takes a step forwards. “I’ll show what it would look like if we were not nice”, Rowynna exclaims and she stretches her arm out, fingers spread and her palm facing the ground. Her hand grows cold for just a heartbeat, right before it emits a serpentine-like ray of a sickly green light at the sorcerer. Before Merodius can act to try and deflect this foul and toxic beam, he is hit straight in the chest and falls backwards, making a dull thud as his weakened body hits the stone floor.
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