Chapter 2.37: The Enochian Tower

(9 versus AC) (19 versus AC) (Natural 1 versus AC) (Spell save DC 15 versus wisdom 11)
They are covered in Hadriel’s scalding blood and things are not looking good for them. Usually when one of their foes starts to bleed, it means they are on the winning side of combat, but the Seraphim descendant weaponized his blood.
“Hopefully this will cool him down”, Mero says and he shoots a cold beam of freezing magic upwards. With the distance between him and Hadriel, the angel has plenty of time to evade the frosty ray.
Oslando makes a risky decision, trusting his ability to aim with improvised ranged weapons, and throws his recently acquired sword at him. As it moves throughout the room, the air around it cools quickly, just like the angel’s flesh when it pierces his abdomen.
“Nice one, Oslando.” Lyssa compliments him loudly. She tries to aim her gun at the constantly moving target, but it’s difficult.
Bruq tries the same thing, pulling back the string of his bow. As the satyr keeps pulling back further the arrow further and the tension builds, the bow fails him. The string snaps at the top of his weapon and renders the bow useless.
“Not so nice”, she remarks to his annoyance.
“Well, you haven’t hit him as well, have you? Go make yourself useful. Don't use bullets against a flaming being.”
With those words of wisdom she lowers the gun and quickly comes up with something to sing.

“Failed celestial, inferior seraph’s spawn,
self-proclaimed high and mighty, merely just a pawn
in a game to toy with the prophesied heroes five
and failed to do so, now fearing for his life
for when your childish chest will finally stops heaving,
seeing this loud linguistic, lovable Lyssa laughing and leaving.”

Hadriel grabs his head as her torturous words create the images of failure in his head, feeling an inexplicable painful sensation resonating with every beat of his heart.
Dargothoth sees the chance to return some of his vitality. He hangs his sceptre on his belt and presses his palm against the scales burnt by the angel's blade.
(DC 14 versus dexterity 22, 7, 15, 15, 16) (20 versus AC)
“You will not abuse these holy powers to fulfill your wretched needs”, Hadriel exclaims as he observes how the blue glow heals the painful cut across his chest. He quickly spins around his own axis and sharp needle-shaped drops of cooking blood rain down on them.
While only Bruq and Mero were able to evade the red shower the first time, almost everyone of them sees the assault coming from afar. They all are focused enough on him to get out the attack’s way, but the monster hunter is too occupied with trying to fix his bow. When he looks up, he is met with boiling liquid across his face that he quickly tries to wipe off.
“No”, Hadriel shouts again, “you will not get away that easy!” His demeanour is terrifying. With every words he screams white flames escape his eyes and mouth. A bright orange ball of fire appears again in his right hand and three thick flames leap towards them, encasing the worn down cleric, the already burning hunter and the panicked sorcerer in all-consuming fire.
(20 versus AC) (17 versus AC)
In retaliation, after shaking the flames off his worn and ragged cloth, Mero gathers all the power left inside his small scarecrow-like body and blasts the purple energy upwards to hit him across his entire body.
In the meanwhile, the half-elf has pulled out the trusty dagger he had when he started this adventure. With the same accuracy he throws the dagger, penetrating the angel just below the neck.
Lyssa, out of lyrical inspiration, decides to fire the blunderbuss now that Hadriel isn’t moving as much. Her bullet buries itself in his left wing and sets some of his feather ablaze.
“Dargothoth, can you aid me, please?” The satyr walks up to him with his back hunched, limping with pain. “I really can’t take another hit and I’m not dying in this godforsaken tower.”
The cleric looks at him and sees his burned fur, the soot on his skin and the weariness in his eyes.
“None of us will die by his wretched hands”, he answers and lays his claw on Bruq’s face. As the blue glow breathes life into his body, the satyr lets out a satisfied gasp, while a warm and pleasant feeling rejuvenates him.
“Foul corpse eater!” Hadriel looks down on the draconian. “Observe how a true divine being uses the gift of gods!” He raises his hand into the air and a more vibrant aquamarine glow envelops his whole body. The blades Oslando threw at him are pushed out of him and the wounds heal completely.
“Insolent creatures”, his voices chortle while the hole in his wing closes as well, “I can do this forever. Let’s see how long you can last!”