Chapter 5.22: The Sightless Citizens of Saal

(19 versus AC) (Perception 20)
Mero is overwhelmed by anger. A fire burns inside of him, one he has felt few times before, but always when experiencing something unpleasant. He felt it when he was talked down to as a slave, put back in his place and cast out by those who couldn't see past his former straw body.
Now, he feels that same sensation of fury boiling inside of him. These Blackstar hellions have been torturing his uncle’s children and cursed one of his few friends. But there’s a different warmth inside him as well, one he discovered only recently after Oanoa showed it to him. He can feel all that heat building up in his hand as a big sphere of fiery magic appears.
“You’re going to pay, fake wizard.”
Mero lets out an angry roar and hurls the raging fire at the cloaked demon. It hits him right in the chest, ember flying everywhere. Peculiarly, his clothes don’t catch fire. They don’t even blacken. Instead, his skin turns red like a ruby and ripples. One heartbeat later, it’s like nothing happened.
(17 versus AC) (DC 15 versus wisdom 10)
The demon seems unbothered by the flames and keeps his focus on the satyr and half-elf in front of him. He pulls back his right arm again and launches his pseudopod hand right into Bruq’s face. He hits hard. The sound of bones breaking echoes throughout the corridor and blood pours from the hunter’s nose. He blinks a few times and takes a step back. Everything is spinning. It feels like he’s standing on a ship during a heavy storm. His vision narrows, black spots blur his gaze. He leans on his glaive to maintain his balance.
The imposter Phenilias turns his head to Oslando. His eyes glow red and he sluggishly opens his mound. His jaw dislocates with an unpleasant squishy sound and his mouth becomes a gaping maw. The way he inhales air sounds like a man on his deathbed, a hollow gasp and fluids gurgling from deep within lungs.
A noise quickly fills Oslando’s head, like he’s stepping into a blizzard and the snow is raging all around him. He cringes, squints his eyes and grinds his teeth. Images flash in front of his mind’s eye. He sees a female staring lovingly at him and then shift her caring glare to an elderly human being. She holds his hand. The man coughs. Oslando blinks. The image has changed. He sees a family of elves and a family of humans shouting at each other, making angry gestures, most of them into his direction. Those are the main scenes that keep repeating, passing by faster and faster each time he sees them. The details fade, however. Their expressions, their emotions, the context, the meaning, it all dies down, deafened by the noise. This is no time to recollect distant memories, but the half-elf feels like he couldn’t even if he tried to. A part of him is missing, but he can’t seem to recall what exactly is missing. What was he even thinking of?
In the meantime, Dargothoth lifts his right hand, trying to feel who is in front of him.
“What is happening?” He sounds somewhat concerned. “Tell me, Mero, what can I do?”
The sorcerer moves his head from Oslando to Bruq and decides the latter needs their help the most.
“Bruq got hit twice, pretty badly, it seems. You should try and heal him.”
Mero guides the cleric two steps forward and Dargothoth feels the hunter’s leather hide beneath his hand. He can feels the satyr’s heavy breathing. With fleeting focus a light blue glow envelops the cleric’s palm. Bruq’s breathing steadies, becomes deeper and less rushed, but a lot of the pain remains. For now he seems steady enough to pull through, but this thing in front of them isn’t even what they came for and with two hits he already nearly killed one of them.
(Spell save DC 15 versus constitution 9) (Perception 11)
Lyssa hums. She remembers what Cyrzana taught her, back in Oanoa’s plane. It was the same spell the gnoll shaman almost killed her and her allies with back in the Enochian Tower: the shatter spell. An intense rumbling sensation builds within her chest. It feels like the air punches her lungs.
She spreads her eyes wide open, focusing on the space just behind their enemy. She hopes she estimates the distance correctly and none of her friends will get hurt. Her humming grows louder and she opens her mouth.
A piercing burst of sound explodes behind the imposter breaks the stones on the wall and sweeps up the dust like black smoke rising up from a smouldering campfire. The wave of force crashes into the demon’s back and pushes him away. Without any stumbling or imbalance, he slithers forward in the exact same pose as he’s currently in.
His movement moved the shiny strand of red slime connected to him as well. There is something attached to it, at the end. A blob of ooze, same size as Phenilias, was hiding around the corner, but is revealed now. The sulphuric smell intensifies. It has vague images of faces floating in its gelatinous body.
“Hells!” Bruq raises his glaive. “What in the name of Baalzebul’s slimy snail trail is that?”