Chapter 1.13: A Reflection of Angels

“You are a sad excuse for a witch”, Alexander shouts and he clenches his fist. “I’ll burn away your pathetic eyes!”
(Spell save DC 13 versus dexterity 4)
A bright white and yellow flame appears out of nowhere and comes down on her, smoldering strands of her greasy hair as it starts to blacken her already dark skin.
“You kobold fucker!”, she screams at the top of her lungs as she slaps her face to make the fire go away. “Release the hound! Kill him!”
The warrior releases the chain and the bloodthirsty dog starts the hunt on his prey. His owner roars, making his violence echo throughout the corridor. He runs towards them, swinging his axe with anger.
(Spell save DC 15 versus wisdom 5)
The siren closes her eyes, seemingly ignoring the massive demon nearing her, as if he doesn’t want to rip a limb of her body or bury his axe in her skull. Her lips move rapidly, creating nigh inaudible whispers that shoot through the air, traveling faster than her blunderbuss can spit out bullets. The bitter tones enter the demon’s ears and fill up his brain. He stops mid-sprint, drops his axe and covers his ears with both of his hands, trembling.

“The ship, it sways across the sea,
It nauseates your head.
The sickening will never stop
And make your eyes go red.”

Her words claw at his brain as he runs away from her. The vertigo makes it impossible to walk straight. The cultists become distracted for just a moment as the demon stumbles their way with bleeding eyes.

“The ship is resting near the docks.
Just take an easy breath.
One more step and you are safe.
Just fall towards your death.”

And the warrior, disorientated and shouting to outscream the whispering voices, takes one more step and falls, stiff as a walking plank, on his head. His screaming stops and they hear the loud crack of a breaking skull. A small stream of blood leaves his head for his last thoughts to set sail on.

(6 versus AC)
The hungry beast, indifferent to the death of its master, leaps at the nearest piece of flesh it can find. The furry skin of the satyr remains unharmed as Bruq blocks the gnawing teeth of the hound, but it does not give up. It takes all the strength in his body to hold him down. Veins bulge on his forehead and sweat drips down his neck.
(15 versus AC)
As Bruq keeps struggling to fight off the monstrous pet, Mero gets back on his feet and comes to the rescue. He gets up to the creature and claps his hands together, creating a thunderous wave that crushes the body of the hound. As his body flings down the hallway, it leaves an almost unseeable trail of bits of its head.
Simion evades the flying corpse by a few inch. “That’s it! This just proves how worthless minions are if you want to achieve something!” With leaps he moves towards the intruders. With every step his red man bun shakes furiously and his muscles heave.
(19 versus AC) (17 versus AC)
With his weapons at the ready, the half-elf goes forward to meet this foe and give him a quick death, not caring if it will be painless or not. He expected Simion to strike him with fist, but he dives towards Oslando’s legs, ripping the skin of his right calve with the sharp, hooked spikes of the plates on his shins. Oslando falls on one knee, but doesn’t let Simion get away unharmed. Just before he gets out of reach, he lashes with the dark blade, creating a deep cut across his stomach and chest. His blood mixes with the redness of the painted symbols as a stream begins to seep from the laceration.
“I will tear you limb from limb, half-breed! Rowynna, strike this fool down!”
(21 versus AC)
But she is occupied with her own target: the heinous priest that nearly blinded her. “This one first!”, she shouts disobediently and a blue, loud crackling lightning bolt connects from her risen hand to Alexander’s chest. Just as he hurt her before, she returns the favor. The electricity jumps around his body and eats away at the white robes. She closes the distance between them, laughing maniacally as another zap of lightning hits him with every step she makes.
(16 versus AC)
With the little strength he has left, he grabs her throat and squeezes. “I’ll show you real power, witch!”, he snarls in pain and a black ripple crawls through her skin, just like how a stone would disturb a quiet pond. Her skin pales, her lower jaw drops and her eyes roll upwards. The lightning disappears as she loses all tone in her body and collapses. “Serves you right”, the cleric says as he falls onto his knees in agony.
(8 versus AC) (17 versus AC)
“Give up, mutineer”, the female captain shouts as she takes aim. Simion, moving around faster than she can follow, quickly dives forward, evading the shot. He didn't realize their satyr hunter has set his pitch-black eyes on him as well.
“Surprise, asshole”, he grins and he pushes the glaive through his chest. His attack is met with eyes wide open and a bleeding, gurgling cough. He falls backwards, sliding off the metal.

“Are you guys alright?”, Lyssa asks, still pointing her weapon at the cult leader to prevent any nasty surprises.
“I will outlive this flesh wound”, Oslando says, observing the results of the barbs on his mildly bleeding leg. “How are the others?” As he turns his head, he sees what the siren sees as well: a seriously wounded sorcerer tending to an even more damaged Alexander.
“Lyssa, can you bring the wand?”, he moans, his voice betraying his pain. “Before I faint, if you could.”
She shakes her head, making her long hairs wave as the unpredictable sea that cradled her to sleep during her restless nights. “With the immediate threats gone, I have some magical powers left in me to restore your vitality.” She produces the purest tones they ever had the pleasure to hear. A high pitched vibrato fluctuates through the air, clear as crystal and yet as soft as feathers. A pleasant warmth spreads through the electrocuted body of the cleric, making the pain slowly fade away. When she stops her song, he crawls back up and nods to her. “We can continue now”, Alexander says with a less pinched voice.
(Stealth 17 versus perception 14)
With their weapons still in their hands, they walk on to claim what they were supposed to retrieve. With the attention drawn by the shimmering mirror, no one notices the priest ripping off the amulet of Simion’s neck and picking up a scroll lying beside his body.