Out of the Abyss IC

[purepolarpanzer]

Borthan Zuek Half-Drow Ranger AC: 16 HP: 29/29 PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: The last strip of Borthan's prison shirt, already torn previously for bandages, bindle, and bindings, covers up the wound on his bicep, red blurring the dull fabric with crimson stripes. Now all there is between his chain shirt and his body is a thin plate of leather. But that was ok. He could get more shirts a lot easier than he could get more blood. He looks up when Faedryl approaches, sitting next to a small pile of his meager belongings he'd set down so the others could find him. He also noted that the drips of blood he'd left across the cavern floor eventually became visible to his darkvision. That was something to remember. You done doing... whatever it is elves do when they sit with their eyes closed for four or five hours? Good. I could sleep for a week, but we ain't got the time. Once everyone has had a chance to close their eyes for a bit we start making the plan to go back and get Nilvae and our gear. In that order, if possible. Some time later, he saw Faedryl's eyes flick towards the bridge and cast his own eyes in that direction as well. It took a few seconds for what had caught her attention to come into his shorter range of darkvision, but when it did he kipped up from his sitting position and lifted his blades from the ground, both of them going from visible to invisible in a split second. Either the priestess is very stupid or they'll be live soldiers behind the zombies. Drow sometimes send em out like hunting lizards to find the prey and pin em down for the real troops to destroy. While speaking, Borthan was looping his pilfered rope around the central cable of the bridge, tying a formidable knot so it would be easier to restore the bridge if they needed to cross it again. He looked in her direction before adding apologetically Look at fool me, telling a drow spell caster drow spell caster tactics. Either way, you get back and wake up the others. I'll hold the bridge until the last second, cut it down and send as many of them into the drink as I can. Scoot. There's a small chance I might screw this up and we have a real fight on our hands.

[Amnestic]

Faedryl Melad Drow Hexblade/Evoker AC: 17 HP: 17/22 PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted "I have a plan, or the beginnings of one at least." She confirms. Whether the rest of them would go for the plan was another matter. The twins especially were a problem. How exactly she would convince cowards to go back to their one-time prison she wasn't yet sure, but one thing at a time, and she had plenty of the night to worry about it. When the undead appear in her eyeline she's not particularly surprised. That might explain how they got so much distance ahead of the other drow. Shuffling undead weren't as fast as the living, and the delay had bought them valuable rest time. "Try to get the priestess talking. They probably sent the apprentice instead of Ilvarra. While I don't think we'll be able to convince her to switch sides, we could get her to stab her 'mistress' in the back for us." Backstabbing was practically a national pass time for the drow after all, and she had no reason to believe the outpost occupants were any different. With her advice offered, she moves back into the cavern to rouse the others, nudging them awake with her mage hand as she goes. She has no need to touch them directly, nor get close and risk a potential sudden strike from someone still half asleep. Least of all Sarith, who is already awake. "Recovered? Good. Undead are on the bridge, probably the guards we killed in our escape. Help Borthan with the defence." The instructions are, as ever, to the point, and she's already moved on to awaken others.

Sarith Kzerkarit Drow Fighter/Rogue AC: 16 HP: 23/23 PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted His skin is crawling as he awakens from his trance, as if he is engulfed in and made up of innumerable tiny writhing tentacles each pushing and pulling in a different direction, as if he's not even drow anymore, but something else wearing the facsimile of a drow's features. So lost in his thoughts of this is that he barely hears Faedryl's instructions, catching merely the last words "-p Borthan with the defence." Borthan. She deigned to name him properly, as if he were equal. She had moved away before he could retort, so lacking any other options he does as he's bid - moving towards the bridge with handcrossbow in hand, spotting the undead for the first time. He attempts to recognise any faces, pick out features through the rot.

[Spore]

Stool Myconid Druid AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28 PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12 Conditions: - Concentration: - Faedryl: Other dark elf kidnapped me. Stool want to return. But cannot leave friends. Am tiny. Chances to return are slim. Want to become large, have children. Chances better in group, in swarm. he says as he rips out a few parts of his "flesh" turned blue. Slimy mold grows back, in the usual grey color, more moist now. Faedryl feels reminded of small wet infants right after their birth. Borthan: Stool hums with glee. Is good, is great. Your kind is very picky with food. Needs clean food, needs clean water. Stool can have leftovers. After the rest with Sarith: The small myconid leans over Sarith's bed stead. A voice in his mind appears. It is less grating but nonetheless as confusing, until he hears the childish ring of Stool: Looks like blessing of Psilofyr. Maybe is curse and blessing? Maybe not that. Then, for the first time in recent memory, Stool's "voice" turns more sinister, as dark as a child voice can get. If you continue to help, no one has to know.

Nilvae Half-Elf Warlock AC: ?? HP: ??/23 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) Conditions: - Concentration: - As soon as the half-elf can steady her mind, and stay awake, she rolls to the side of the cell and tries to sit up against a wall. Oh Donk, what are you doing? she whispers, confident her companion might even know what she is saying without the interference of Puck. I think it is too much to ask you where Muttley is, huh? The sadness in her voice couldn't betray her feelings, and she knew at worst the dog had been eaten, at best he would be tortured by those vile drow spiders. She lamented her late fianceé's disappearance. Oh Lambert. I only I had married you. I would have had children with you, on your boring farm, with your boring animals. Someone ever told you how BORING it is to talk to chicken? she shouts at no one in particular. The damn things are as thick as lizards, and only half as relaxed. You're different, Donk. She tries to approach the spider-donkey, in hopes at least his fur could provide some comfort amidst all of this. Her ramblings could not betray her feelings. She felt lonely, she feared for her life. With no one around, she started crying, and loudly.

[RandomWombat]

The Fungal Campsite

Thinking quickly, Borthan ties another rope around their end of the bridge, that there may be a chance to salvage it should it collapse. The undead are not advancing swiftly, giving them ample time to act and prepare.

After a few steps around the corner, Faedryl can see Jimjar lying down beside the water of the first spring, a stupid content smile on his face. Not far past him, the two twins are resting in an alcove. The orc, Ront, is lying in a heap in another alcove on the opposite side of Jimjar.

Spoiler: Initiative

Show

Sarith - 18
Borthan - 15
Stool - 11
Faedryl - 4
Zombies - -1

[Amnestic]

Faedryl Melad Drow Hexblade/Evoker AC: 17 HP: 17/22 PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted With the stone and water, and distance, from the attackers she doesn't need to worry much about keeping her voice down. Not that she shouts, mind you, but she doesn't whisper as she calls to Jimjar. "Wake up, and then wake everyone else up. Outpost guards have found us. We might just drop the bridge, but if they have some way over the gap we need everyone awake." She doesn't need to gesture to summon the invisible manifestation of her will beside the slumbering orc, but it nevertheless manifests unseen and unheard. She definitely wasn't getting close to him when he wakes.

Spoiler: OOC

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Action: Summon Mage Hand beside Ront. Turns out I can't use it on the same turn I cast it? The more you know.
Move: Further into the cave.

Sarith Kzerkarit Drow Fighter/Rogue AC: 16 HP: 23/23 PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted He wouldn't wait for them to take closer. Taking a moment to muffle his steps, he prowls forwards with crossbow in hand, loosing a bolt over Borthan's shoulder at the closest undead before diving back into cover.

Spoiler: OOC

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Bonus Action: Cunning Action - Hide (1d20+6)[13]
Move: Out to behind Borthan, shoot hand crossbow, move back.
Action: Attack (1d20+8)[24] Disadvantage due to range if he sucks at hiding: (1d20+8)[17] Damage: (1d6+4)[8]

[purepolarpanzer]

Borthan Zuek Half-Drow Ranger AC: 16 HP: 29/29 PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: Borthan holds position, invisible, waiting for as many of the zombies to get on the bridge as possible. He squats directly in front of the bridge, blocking anyone from passing over, with both blades in hand.

Spoiler: OOC

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Holding action till we get a bunch of zombies on the bridge. Once it is loaded up, attack and bonus attack to cut the supporting ropes.

[RandomWombat]

The Fungal Campsite

Sarith's bolt sinks into the zombie's chest, the corpse continuing forwards until it trips and stumbles over the missing board. It takes some time for it to regain its stance, as the others behind it continue to march. Once they've all moved upon the bridge, Borthan slashes the ropes on either side of him with his blades, sending their end of the bridge plummeting down - only to stop, as his rope catches it before it dips into the water.

The undead begin to clumsily tumble down the slant of the bridge in a ball of flailing limbs, and hungry growls. All the way down into the river below, where they are swept away on the current.

In the tunnel beyond, neither Borthan nor Sarith can see signs of more drow or undead behind these few.

Spoiler: Perception DC 12

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There is, however, a trail of fetid blood and gore trailing back down the path.

Spoiler: Know Arcana DC 10

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Zombies often have poor eyesight, tracking by hearing and by smell. Their sense of smell is keener than it was in life, but only to certain things like blood and rot. It could be the drow sent them ahead like bloodhounds, to follow the trail of the injured and leave a much easier to follow trail behind.

Eyes blinking open as if he'd only been dozing, Jimjar spins around and kips up to his feet, stretching in a smooth motion. "Yes'm, Jimjar is awake," the gnome reports with a wide grin. He starts strolling over to his kin to wake them, while Faedryl's hand lingers above Ront.

The Outpost

Blink.

The donkey calms as Nilvae's hands run along its mane, leaning in to bury her face in the creature and cry out her hopelessness. Against her face, the soft fur of the donkey becomes the smooth, cool hide of the spider, which reaches up and around her face. Nilvae soon finds herself wearing a silken blindfold - preventing further transformation from the arachnid form.

Two chitinous legs press down on Nilvae's shoulders, urging her to sit or lie down. What exactly the spider is planning isn't clear, but there is an intelligence in its actions.

[Amnestic]

Sarith Kzerkarit Drow Fighter/Rogue AC: 16 HP: 23/23 PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted "Well, that works," Sarith mutters, peering past the gloom. He can see the gore they've left in their wake. An easy trail to follow for anyone with working nostrils even if they're blind in the dark down here. "Can you do it more than once?" he asks the invisible man. If it worked a second time that would surely be something, though he expects the less undead of their pursuers wouldn't be so easily dispatched.

Faedryl Melad Drow Hexblade/Evoker AC: 17 HP: 17/22 PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted She hears the plop-plop-plop of zombies hitting the water, and can guess well enough what it means. There wasn't any guarantee that it was the only thing they had to worry about, and she wasn't about to leave herself unprepared. Gently, she uses her invisible mage hand to shake Ront awake, before moving further into the cavern past the twins - leaving them to Jimjar - to awake the rest of them.

[purepolarpanzer]

Borthan Zuek Half-Drow Ranger AC: 16 HP: 29/29 PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: They'd have to be pretty stupid. Anyone with eyes could tell the bridge is damaged now, and the trail of gore stops on the bridge. But hey, while I never count on my enemies to be stupid, I also never fail to take advantage if they are. Borthan sets to work repairing the bridge to the best of his ability, using strong knots to retie the supports. It was a shame to damage the bridge, especially after it had served them so well. Someone built this with good intentions, and he wouldn't let something as rare as good intentions in the Underdark go to waste if he had a say. I'm bushed and I need to sleep. You want to watch the bridge for a while, Sarith? You're not invisible, but you're about the closest we'll get besides me, I imagine.

[Spore]

Stool Myconid Druid AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28 PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12 Conditions: - Concentration: - Stool gleefully gurgles as he sees the vile zombies being washed away. The tiny myconid was no stranger to rot and death, but he preferred for nature to eat the dead, not embrace it. He knew a few of Psilofyr's scions preferred to use humanoid intruders as their vessels to venture forth into the underdark, but if the fungal race would wanted to expand their territory, they would simply spawn more of their kind rather than control other meat vessels.

Nilvae Half-Elf Warlock AC: ?? HP: ??/23 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) Conditions: fearful Concentration: - A sudden shock went through Nilvae's system. Mr Spide had an idea? She trembled on her whole body, fearing for her life, but somehow the body pressure from the spider so alien, yet familiar to her comforted her more than distressed her. She let the spider proceed. Soon the spider covered her head, then went downwards. Nilvae could not do anything but control her breathing and try not to break out in laughter. She entrusted her life to a magical spider-donkey, in a drow keep fitted with antimagical cages, guarded by two powerful priests and several dozen armed guards, surrounded by a demonic swarm. A moment of calm collectedness ran through her. Yes, that was indeed the most feasible response. To trust her friend, her ally. After all, the other options were exhausted fully.

[Amnestic]

Sarith Kzerkarit Drow Fighter/Rogue AC: 16 HP: 23/23 PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted Sarith's response is delayed. He considers simply declining, leaving them to whatever faces them in the dark, perhaps forcing Borthan to stay awake if he wishes to ensure no further attacks in the night, but any delays would keep him stuck in this dank cave scrabbling for mushrooms, and he wanted real food. Weighing up the options, he decides that, ultimately, he would rather expedite their destruction of the outpost than unleash a petty pain on those around him. "Fine."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Hide check to watch unseen, since he's not an invisiboy? (1d20+8)[16]

[RandomWombat]

The Fungal Campsite

While Jimjar nudges Turvy awake with his foot, Faedryl's telekinetic hand jostles Ront awake. The orc's huge arm swings at it, phasing through the apparition. Rolling onto his back, he gracelessly draws himself to his feet and looks around groggily.

Faedryl can hear Jimjar half-joking with Turvy over a bet on whether Topsy stabs him when he nudges her awake, as she rounds the corner to stir the rest of their party. Dworic is already awake, keeping watch over the other entrance to their little alcove in the dark.

Everyone remains tense and on edge after being awoken for the attack, but Topsy is soon looking more miffed over being woken up for nothing. "So you woke us up over the plan working and the problem being solved?" the she-gnome scowls and bitterly complains. "What now, then? We wait and see what happens?"

"Now, I think it's time we part ways," Eldeth says, looking at them all. "Not much left to bind us together after escaping, and I have important business back in Gauntlgrym." The dwarfess has enough tact not to outright express her distaste for present company, but it's clear she's not interested in hanging around for someone to backstab someone else in this motley gang - or going back to help a madwoman she barely knows.

"The slaves need an escort and they'd only slow you down," the gruff barbarian states, with less restrained suspicion than his comrade. "We'll do what we can to clear the path ahead and mark it for you," He reaches up and draws a finger down the stone beside him, in a demonstrative gesture. "Line for food or water, X for danger."


Meanwhile, Borthan hauls the bridge back up with no small amount of effort - it is not a light construction. But he is able to rebind the ropes. Not as sturdy as it once was, but it should hold. Ideally one or two at a time, depending on size.

The Outpost

Gradually, Nilvae finds herself turned over, and over, spun into a cocoon of webbing by the spider unseen. It is a nerve-wracking experience that leaves her feeling like she's about to be made a meal. But when it finishes, and she is bound, she finds that she has room for her arms to move within the cocoon, room to gesture. And the sticky side of the web does not face inwards. A web hood hides her head and face, and her mouth is covered by non-sticky thread allowing her to mutter behind it, or shake it off to speak freely. Enough to cast simple spells at the very least.

The spider's cracking, gnashing mandibles next to her ear let out a hissing sound like a gentle sssshhhh, shushing her. Then she feels a sting in her side. The spider has bitten her - but she feels no sting of venom, no numbing of poison, as the fangs are drawn back out. A little prick, barely enough to draw blood.

Then, the sound of its eight creaking legs crawling away towards the door.

[Spore]

Stool Myconid Druid AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28 PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12 Conditions: - Concentration: - Sad to see small man and beardy woman go. Stool hums into the air with the aid of smell. United we are stronger. But larger target. You take care. He tries to hug the dwarf, less as an endearing act of comfort, and more to taste his skin, his smell, to identify and track where he goes. Only if he allows it though. Stool is tired now, needs sleep to commune with Psilofyr.

Nilvae Half-Elf Warlock AC: ?? HP: ??/23 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) Conditions: fearful Concentration: - Struggling to keep herself calm for the process, Nilvae nontheless knows enough of spiders that they only expend their energy for webbing if they want to build a nest, or preserve food, not to eat immediately. The small sting was likewise extraordinary. Two versions of Nilvae existed in her head, the mad and carefree Nilvae everyone knows, and a remnant of her former self, the modest, cool and collected farm girl. She was wondering if Puck imparted some sort of intelligence into the donkey. See his spider form again, any doubt was dispelled. Yes, the beast might just be smarter than she is. Mpfould A yeww fo' he'p nao? she inquires of Mr Spide.

[Amnestic]

Faedryl Melad Drow Hexblade/Evoker AC: 17 HP: 17/22 PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted "If the problem was solved I wouldn't have woken you. They would not have sent four zombies on their own with no plan to follow up. Even if we were tired they'd have little chance given the chokepoints of the tunnels. If you'd like to be caught unawares by drow slavers again, by all means, go back to sleep. Maybe once you're again in chains you'll think back to this moment and see that I was right." Faedryl can't help but let out a deep sigh. They're not the only one who is tired. She didn't get to rest at all, while they've been snoozing away merrily for the last four hours. Her voice losing its edge to fatigue. "Just stay alert for an hour. If nothing else happens then you get to tell me you were right and go back to sleep." She has no words for the dwarves, leaving in the middle of their rest to...what, escort slaves that are in the same position they were? Perhaps expecting anything better from them was a mistake. That they wouldn't try to help with the rescue, or exact revenge is...she can't think of it anymore, other than keeping those she does have together.

Sarith Kzerkarit Drow Fighter/Rogue AC: 16 HP: 23/23 PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted Ignorant of the further discussions, Sarith maintains his silent watch.

[RandomWombat]

The Fungal Campsite

Reaching down, Dworic awkwardly pats Stool on the head when the myconid waddles up to hold onto his leg. "... Wherever you go from here, we'll make sure Gauntlgrym knows you're no friends of Menzoberranzan. Should at least keep you from being attacked on sight," he says, though Eldeth behind him has a look of skepticism.

She at least doesn't seem to have any animosity towards the mushroom. "Take care as well."

Waking the slaves, they begin making their way down the tunnels ahead.


Leaning on the wall with a curled lip, Topsy draws one of her daggers and watches the direction of the bridge. "One hour," she agrees.

Beside her, Jimjar looks up at Faedryl with a grin and raises an eyebrow. After letting it hang expectantly for a bit, he cracks a laugh. "I bet you were expecting me to make a bet, hey?" he jests, picking at some of the edible moss in his teeth from their earlier meal.


The wait goes by, with Sarith taking over watch duties at the bridge. But everything remains quiet, no signs of further pursuit.

The Outpost

Whether Mr. Spide understands or not, no response comes. Instead, the sound of a spider hissing and chitinous legs rapping at the metal bars of the door. Not long after, footsteps approach from outside and a donkey's hooves begin stamping on the ground.

"Well, that didn't take long. Guess you ain't a surfacer pet after all," a guard's voice says from outside, apparently speaking to the donkey-spider. He walks away, leaving the unwatched donkey in its current form. It plods back further into the room, pacing near Nilvae.

[purepolarpanzer]

Borthan Zuek Half-Drow Ranger AC: 16 HP: 29/29 PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: Once Borthan is done hauling bridge and tying ropes, he advises Sarith on the new weight capacity of the bridge before heading back towards the cavern the others had settled down into. He stretches, popping a knot in his back and beginning to relax the vigilant tenseness that had settled into his body. When he entered the area he looked around at everyone, focusing on the collection of dwarves that had assembled near the exit. You're leaving... He said it before he fully realized what that meant. Less strength. Less fighters. This was going to make things harder. But he knew from the determined looks on their faces that he couldn't stop them with a warning. So he smiled and approached Dworic. It was good knowing you outside a cell for all of five minutes, Biggun'. Fast travels and safe journeys to you. He looks up at the other dwarves. To all of you. Find a way to store water. It'll do you more good than those godsforsaken excuses for weapons. That said, he turns in place and strides over to the quaggoth, sitting down next to him. You're the Biggun' now, friend. Unless yon orcish fist fighter knocks you flat. Borthan follows Faedryl's advice, keeping vigilant for an hour, and silently yearning for sleep every minute of it.

Derendil Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer AC: 17 HP: 26/26 PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (0hp/8hp) Concentrating on: Biggun'? Derendil nearly spit the word from his mouth in distaste for it's regional patois. His heart had sank when the dwarves announced their parting, even more so when he realized that there was little chance that the more civilized members of this haphazard band would likely exclude him based on his hideous new form. But... after pondering this nickname for a moment, he realized there was at least some small nugget of comradery hidden deep inside it. Either that or malicious spite. For now, he would rather presume comradery. Speaking in accented high elvish, he responds I vastly prefer Prince Derendil, but I will take what I can get, I suppose... Borthan gave a small grunt of laughter before responding in his own brand of the fair tongue. Damn right.

[Spore]

Stool Myconid Druid AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28 PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12 Conditions: - Concentration: - Plan to rest and meditate? Stool asks Faedryl. She seemed not the leader of the bunch, but the brains of the operation, and the one most comfortable with telepathy. Or just short sleep? Powers have not returned to Stool, but body is good as new. he says showing off his slimy intact self. Please watch Sarith, his wounds heal like fungus. Like myconid. That not normal. the myconid adds in a conspiratory "voice". He adds a cheerful: If short pause, you can sleep now. not realizing the implications to the nerves of the drow noble.

Nilvae Half-Elf Warlock AC: ?? HP: ??/23 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) Conditions: fearful Concentration: - Nilvae removes her mouth wrap with a few exaggerated chewing motions. She wriggles towards and under Doctor Donk waiting for the spider form to pop. Then she gives him some sort of attack with a head butt for the spider to be surprised and possibly fight back. CURSE YOU VILE DROW AND YOUR DAMN ENCHANTED ANIMALS! GET AWAY FROM ME! she says encouraging Mr Spide to clatter, hiss and bear his fangs. Spoiler Show 10+6=16 if Mr Spide does NOT help, 15+6 = 21 if he DOES help.

[Amnestic]

Faedryl Melad Drow Hexblade/Evoker AC: 17 HP: 17/22 PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Interrupted "I will trance once the hour is up." It wouldn't do for her to wake everyone and then rest herself. That would make her seem very...drow. "Sarith will be fine on his own, we have bigger things to worry about right now." True to her word she leaves Sarith where he is. She wasn't adept at hiding herself, and if she gave away their element of surprise that would be all the worse. She half doesn't trust Stool has actually seen anything and is just babbling fool things, but regardless of whether it was true or not she didn't have the brainpower to care right now. If he'd got himself some myconid spore infection then...deal with that when it comes up.

[RandomWombat]

The Fungal Campsite

Dworic clasps Borthan's arm, a reluctant look in his eyes. "Sorry to leave you, Lit'lun," the dwarf answers, perhaps enjoying a little irony in calling someone taller 'little.' "These folks aren't cut out for crawling around in the dark or assaulting outposts," he nods back at the slaves, as Eldeth stirs them from their rest. "And we must bring word to Gauntlgrym, the demons we saw aren't the only ones around. Be careful of such fiends on your own journey."

Once the hour long wait is over, Topsy gives Faedryl a dirty, tired look and lies back down without another word. Eventually everyone returns to rest, and this time aren't interrupted by zombies or drow before they awaken.

Spoiler: Sarith

Show

Sarith may make a Perception check during his watch.

The Outpost

There is a pause in the footsteps leaving and the guard comes back, soon followed by more arachnid scuttling. "I see. Still alive, then," the guard taps on the cell bars and clicks his tongue. "Stay," he tells the spider, before walking away again.

Mr. Spider flops down on the floor.

[RandomWombat]

Spoiler: Sarith

Show

Some time after the zombies harried them, as the end of their rest draws near, Sarith can see movement down the tunnel. He recognizes the many-legged shapes of spiders crawling along the walls, moving away from them and back towards the outpost. With them is a taller figure, likely one of the priestesses.

[Amnestic]

Sarith Kzerkarit Drow Fighter/Rogue AC: 16 HP: 23/23 PP: 14 PIv: 11 PIs: 10 Sanity: 8 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Completed A priestess. As expected. Ilvarra, or Asha? He couldn't tell from this distance. The latter would be better, for a number of reasons. Either way his crossbow wouldn't reach into the gloom effectively. Faedryl...Faedryl would know what to do. Silently, he creeps further into the cave to the trancing Melad. "Enemies approaching. At least one priestess and some spiders." He gives her a light shake on the shoulder, only to have her jerk away from him instinctively. The question of whether it was because it was him or if she would have done so with anyone dies in his throat before he can voice such a childish notion. Following behind Faedryl, he takes up position out of sight in hiding, weapon at the ready.

Faedryl Melad Drow Hexblade/Evoker AC: 17 HP: 22/22 PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Completed Strictly speaking she'd had enough rest, but she can't deny that she would have liked more. Her eyes snap open at Sarith's whispered message. She'd bet it was Asha. Little chance Ilvarra took to the field so quickly. Drow loved delegating, especially when they could then claim credit for later even without active involvement. "Greetings Asha!" Her shout is loud enough that it will hopefully carry forwards beyond the river, but more importantly it will waken those at her back. She'd been early with her warning before, but they had come. Eventually. "As you are probably aware I am Faedryl, formerly of House Melad. I think we should talk." With how few of them were awake and aware, and the limited ranged options, the element of surprise was of little value. Instead perhaps she would be open to a dialogue. She wasn't foolish enough to believe she could make Asha switch sides, but playing on a drow's ambition was often a winning strategy. Siding with Faedryl and the rest of them? Unlikely. Trying to oust Ilvarra for her own gain? That...that might just work.

[purepolarpanzer]

Borthan Zuek Half-Drow Ranger AC: 16 HP: 29/29 PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: Borthan's eyes spring open. He was still tired, but he'd survived on far less sleep. Admittedly he was getting very tired of being tired, but he imagined this would be the way of things until he reached his cabin on the surface again. Every time he went down into the underdark, he missed the feeling of open wind on his face and the brightness of the sun, but considering he had been dreaming of both before the alarm shout went out the feeling of absence was particularly acute. Still, this didn't slow him for a moment. He kipped up from prone and stalked his way closer to the bridge, keeping some distance between him and the others in case any crossbow shots were fired.

Derendil Quaggoth Barbarian/Abjurer AC: 17 HP: 26/26 PP: 10 PIv: 12 PIs: 10 Conditions: Mage Armor (8 hrs), Arcane Ward (8hp/8hp) Concentrating on: Derendil released a massive yawn, his feline features split in two by his open, toothy maw. What time is it? He asked no one in particular. It took him several blinking moments to remember where he was. What he was. Who he was. He slowly climbs to his feet, waiting in the fungal cavern for word to come on whether they were fighting or not. His bulky, massive form would not be able to manage much in the way of stealth, but he made a formidable reserve.

[Spore]

Stool Myconid Druid AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28 PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12 Conditions: - Concentration: - Let elf witch come with her pets. Stool got present. Stool hums as the warning follows through in the resting place. Stool touches the bridge, and its wood begins to grow out spiky extrusions. The danger is well-hidden, with the same color and rough makeup of the bridge. Can you cover trap? Use dark magic. Stool asks both Sarith and Borthan mentally. Spoiler Show Spike Growth for the last 40 ft. of the bridge, creating difficult terrain, forcing a DC 13 Perception check to uncover the "trap". Failure means 2d4

Nilvae Half-Elf Warlock AC: ?? HP: ??/23 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) Conditions: fearful Concentration: - Nilvae sighs. She either ruined Mr Spide's plan, or the drow simply don't care about her anymore. So what exactly was your plan? Nilvae inquires of her friendly neighborhood spider-donkey. Instinctively she tries to evoke her fey magic to have a better conversation with the stubborn spider.

[RandomWombat]

The Fungal Campsite

"Anybody's guess, friend," Jimjar's bright voice chimes next to Derendil as the beast prince begins to wake up. "Down here in the Underdark, it may as well be whatever time you'd like! But the answer right now is probably 'morning' for us."

With everyone now rested, they begin preparing near the bridge. The close quarters have some of them waiting in rooms off to the side, the two gnome siblings lurking in the next room over near Buppido, giving the mad dwarf cautious looks that don't seem to bother him at all. Derendil remains in the next cavern with Shuushar and Jimjar, watching the rear and lurking in reserve.

Stool reaches out with hyphae, stretching spiny growths across the bridge just in case, as Faedryl calls out down the tunnels. Sarith can see the figure in the distance pause. A voice echoes back through the tunnel, "Is that so, Faedryl?" the voice's youth and energy is certainly that of the younger priestess.

"If you wish to parley, come alone!"

The Outpost

There is no verbal response from the spider, merely the tapping of hard chitinous legs against the stone. Eventually, she hears more footsteps approaching the door. The sharp clicking and clacking of heels, much like those of the spider.

"I hear you're feeling talkative," a dark female voice from outside says, as Mr. Spide can be heard shifting back into donkey form. "And that your... pet hasn't eaten you yet."

[purepolarpanzer]

Borthan Zuek Half-Drow Ranger AC: 16 HP: 29/29 PP: 14 PIv: 9 PIs: 14 Conditions: Concentrating on: Borthan tapped Faedryl on the shoulder as a way of letting her know where he was. If they're fool enough not to be carrying any actual light, you can go alone AND have back up, if you see what I'm saying. He would let her decide though. Her attempt at diplomacy, her life on the line. He was just foolish enough to throw his own life in the pot as well.

[Amnestic]

Faedryl Melad Drow Hexblade/Evoker AC: 17 HP: 22/22 PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Completed Faedryl steps up to the edge of the bridge, though doesn't step any further, a symbolic act that they can meet and talk from across the distance, without putting either side in jeopardy - and avoiding the spike growth trap. Even if she did have Borthan at her side, it wasn't worth it. "We can talk well enough from here. I'm not so quick to deliver myself to the spider's maw." A light chuckle follows from her, displaying levity despite her tense muscles. There's any number of spells that could bring her ruin, even at this distance. She gestures for those nearby to stand back - at least to move out of sight, even if they can be ready to pounce at a moment's notice. "Ilvarra sent you to recover us, I assume." 'Us'. It still felt weird. "When she takes credit for the success, or blames you alone for the failure, will you be satisfied with that? From what I gather she already tossed Duskryn aside. It makes me wonder how long until she does the same to you?" Asha must have considered it, given that she too was drow. If she didn't have a half dozen plans to overthrow Ilvarra then Faedryl would be sincerely surprised. "Our business is not finished at Ilvarra's outpost. I'm not fool enough to suggest you join with us, but perhaps we can find ways to help each other get what we want." She couldn't volunteer too much, but needed just enough of a hook to get Asha interested.

[Spore]

Stool Myconid Druid AC: 15 (bucket armor + pot lid) HP: 28/28 PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12 Conditions: - Concentration: - Stool couldnt do much at this distance that would not result in immediate warfare, so he stayed alert, even though his usual hum reverts to a more primal growl.

Nilvae Half-Elf Warlock AC: ?? HP: ??/23 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) Conditions: fearful Concentration: - Nilvae noticed the voice. That was the woman who fed her dog to their vile spiders. She was struggling not to wail out in anger, but kept herself calm. At least my spider-donkey is sensible enough not to become an arch-demon's little bitch like you and your disgusting purple brood. How can you still be salty about being exiled from the surface? You followed them down here.

[RandomWombat]

The Fungal Campsite

The priestess takes her time, cautiously strolling back towards the end of the bridge, her spiders in front of her, holding a screen of web between them to help catch projectiles fired across the gap. One of the two spiders looks different, its husk pale and marked with injuries. Like the drow soldiers, it is undead, its exoskeleton moving under fell power, and a purple gleam in its eyes. Faedryl's own entourage backs off, save perhaps for the unseen Borthan lurking nearby.

Asha peers out at the bridge, clearly taking note of its condition. But she spares it any comment. "So here we are, Melad. Two of the new guard, meeting outside the eyes of the old. How scintillating," the priestess' grin is as malevolent as it is genuinely friendly. A servant of Lolth knows no other kind of friendly, than the kind where you've a knife behind your back.

"I know what I want, but what do you want? You wouldn't be parleying with me if you wished only to leave and never look back."

The Outpost

"Keep watch of the thing. I don't expect it to be stupid enough to interfere, but I would rather avoid the effort," the drow commander speaks to whomever is with her outside of the cell. Likely some guards posted there. The clink of the lock opening follows, as she steps inside and approaches Nilvae.

"It would do you well to remember who is in control here. I can make use of your death as readily as I can make use of your life," she raises her foot and pointedly - and pointily - presses her shoe's sharp heel into Nilvae's leg, driving it down hard enough to cause pain, perhaps even draw blood. "But there is a world in which you walk free, little fly. Would you like to hear about it?"

[Spore]

Nilvae Half-Elf Warlock AC: ?? HP: ??/23 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1) Conditions: fearful Concentration: - Going free? This of course must be a lie, but Nilvae yearned for her days in the wilds, surrounded by chatty animals, before she met Borthan. The kick into her leg was enough to bring her back, to make her focus on the here and now. The half-elf smiled. You need me alive, don't you? I won't press my luck any further knowing your lot can be cr... she eats her words as the heel digs into her calf. ...that I won't take my life for granted. Do you really think I would have resisted your acolyte so readily, leaving myself behind on the frontline only for me to betray the others? On the promise of the words of the supposed queen of betrayers? Isn't that just like covering yourself in honey, trusting the old bear not to crack open your ribs and eat you? I will hear your proposal, just know where I stand in all of this. Nilvae says with a tone as noble as one can lying in the dirt, covered in cobwebs and bleeding from a leg.

[Amnestic]

Faedryl Melad Drow Hexblade/Evoker AC: 17 HP: 22/22 PP: 12 PIv: 14 PIs: 12 Sanity: 11 Conditions: -- Concentrating: -- Eighth Day, Rest Completed She hadn't immediately called an attack, but whether that was just to aim at Faedryl's physical weakpoint, or probe for her emotional one...she couldn't be sure. Still, if Asha had half a brain in her skull then she could work out what Faedryl was after quickly on her own, the question seems less actual curiosity in the answer and more probing for honesty, at least by her estimation. "One of the prisoners was left behind when we...left." 'Fled' almost passed her lips, and though accurate it would only undermine their position. "Though I don't expert her unharmed, especially by now, we would see her returned to us. There's also my effects that were taken on my capture, and those of the other prisoners." Her spellbook chief among them. She gives a generous shrug. "It's not much, to you at least. One prisoner and some trinkets you have no need for in return for our help in acquiring you your own position of power. I'm sure the Matron Mothers would believe whatever story you told them - that Ilvarra had us killed for her amusement despite their wishes, that she was planning on using us as slaves in a bid for power against the Matrons and you had to stop her, that she planned sedition even at the cost of all those under her command." That last one had the benefit of almost certainly being true. "Once we have Nilvae and our things we'll have no reason to remain and will be looking to leave you to your new outpost."