Erastus 24: Night

  A thick, cool fog rolled over the streets of Goatshead, enveloping us in a faded globe of gray. The click of Sosima’s chitin boots echoed loudly in my ears, her rapid footsteps seeming to sync with my raging heartbeat.

  I was as blind as any of us, but Autopilot knew the way and maintained a brisk walk to Melku’s home. I led a chain of five people, who would no doubt have been lost in the fog if we weren’t holding hands. I was as surprised as anyone when the looming brick wall materialized from the grey.

  “This is the pce?” Syl asked, her whisper carrying far through the thick air.

  “Yeah.” Cog answered, checking the wall. “Only clean brick building in this part of town. Everyone ready?”

  He asked the assembled party, but he looked directly at me. My pn relied heavily on my own unique skills, so the process of breaking and entering was almost entirely on me. With a nod, I hefted a coil of rope and drifted upwards into the air. (Cast Levitate) The roof was angled to shed rain, but not so steeply that I was unable to find my footing and tie off the rope around Melku’s chimney. (Perform (Dance) 13+11=24)

  Thank you Shadowboxing, this would be so much harder if I needed to roll a real acrobatics check.

  I held the rope, keeping watch for Syl as she climbed up onto the roof, followed by Sandara, Cog, and finally Sosima. The fog slowly dispersed; Autopilot was more focused on helping me bance than any magical working, but we had several minutes before anyone could see more than ten feet. We crawled across the roof to a modestly sized window, which I was able to jimmy open with a long piece of wire. (Disable Device 14+6=20. Success)

  Fuck yeah. Keep the high rolls coming, please.

  We scrambled into a small room, with a wide, clean table that only held one chair. Portraits of austere rich people lined the walls, looking down at us through the gloom. The strangely mismatched faces and fashions shifted from monochrome to technicolor as Cog lit a hooded ntern behind me. I examined the paintings while my team filed in behind me, letting autopilot strain his ears for any movement in the hallways.

  Some kind of art collector? That one looks Chelish, but over there in the corner is someone who looks Asian, and that’s a bck catgirl. No way these are all retives. They aren’t even all the same artstyle.

  They do appear to be of very high quality, at least, and in excellent repair. (Hidden Perception Check)

  Cog covered the ntern when I peeked out into the hallway, which was also lined with portraits. There was no movement in either direction; as far as I could tell we had a straight shot to the sleeping chambers beled on Cog’s map. We wasted no time, rushing down the hallway with Sosima in the lead.

  I was almost disappointed that we didn’t run into any traps. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it resolutely refused to do so. On the one hand it made perfect sense that Melku hadn’t trapped his living quarters like a Hollywood ancient tomb, but I expected more security. I was on edge, but the pn was to get in and out as quickly as possible. My eyes darted around, but all I saw were the paintings.

  An older pirate with a girl on each arm wearing loose, low cut dresses, all smiling cheekily at the viewer. Several young men and women in poses that reminded me of school photos. A hulking figure in bck armor, carrying a wicked give with a helmet tucked under one arm. I felt deep in my bones that I was missing something important, but I didn’t know what.

  We ran into our first real impediment at that point: Melku’s fucking door. The thing was damn impregnable. I was unable to pick the lock, though perhaps I was overly delicate in my attempt. I was after all attempting to remain silent. (Disable Device 6+6=12) Syl’s hands were more steady than mine, especially after drinking her tonic, but she was also unable to get through. (Syl disable device: fail).

  Sosima growled deep in her throat when Syl stood up, and attempted to kick the door down with a single blow. It was more inspired by frustration than any real pn, and unfortunately accomplished little. (Sosima force door: fail.)

  Cog shot Sosima a dirty look at the noise, and tried it himself with better technique. At least, I assume it was better technique; he seemed to be aiming for a specific point, but it was no more effective. (Cog force door: fail)

  “Damnation.” Cog grumbled. “Internal doors aren’t usually this sturdy.”

  I cast detect magic, figuring that the door may be enchanted. Of course, Sandara stole my thunder by pulling a key from behind one of the nearby portraits. (Sandara Perception Critical success)

  “Aha! Under the mat. Every damn time.”

  My team smiled, but I was distracted. The door was indeed locked and reinforced with abjuration magic, but when I turned to look at Sandara I noticed that the paintings were too. Not only were they glowing with arcane auras, my darkvision was just barely able to sense movement on the canvasses. Darkvision didn’t work on completely two dimensional things.

  “Guys, I think-“

  Combat has begun, roll initiative.

  Surprise round! Emrys, Cog, and Sandara have succeeded on their perception checks.

  A long spear shed out at Sandara’s back, emerging from the portrait she’d found the key behind. Sandara cried out as the heavy blow pierced her coat, spshing blood on the wall. A hulking man in bck armor followed the spear, his face concealed by a helmet.

  Sandara has been sshed for 11 damage.

  “Surrender and you will be allowed to live, if the master wills it.” His voice boomed hollowly. “He does so hate being woken up to gore.”

  A few feet down the hall, the captain and his wenches leapt out of another painting, each carrying a cutss and a fgon. They vaulted over the bottom edge of the painting like it was the railing of a ship, cornered on a dime, and charged towards my team.

  Syl didn’t miss a beat, drawing her weapons and meeting the pirate’s charge. She swept the sickle in a low arc, biting deeply into the old captain’s leg. The initial ssh was surgical, precise, and followed by a geyser of dark red blood. The blood flowed for only a fraction of a second before the entire man dissolved into a sptter of paint that spshed all over Syl. She had already moved on, shoving a dagger into one of the two girls’s guts, who dissolved just as quickly.

  Syl used Open Vein. 5 damage. 9 bleed damage.

  Buccaneer Trompe L’oiel A has been disrupted.

  Syl has attacked Buccaneer Trompe L’oiel B. Critical Hit. 8 damage, 2 bleed damage.

  Buccaneer Trompe L’oiel C has been disrupted.

  Time stood still as my turn arrived. The spshes of paint had not yet even reached the floor. It was a good thing, too, as I needed time to process the situation. First I very firmly pushed visions of pale, distorted men and women coming to eat me out of my mind.

  The ghouls are dead. These things don’t even seem like they are as strong as a ghoul on average. I think Syl just took two of them down. We should be fine.

  I looked down the hallway. and as far as my eyes could see Every single picture was disgorging another creature as far as my eyes could see. The schoolgirls weren’t half as dexterous as the pirates, but they were still crawling out into the hallway and readying bdes. One of them was halfway through the process of manifesting, pressing against the canvas like a cellophane sheet on the edge of tearing.

  If every hallway is full of these paintings, there’s almost as many of them as the ghouls, and we don’t have anyone to hide behind but our friends. Are we going to sacrifice them?

  No. Not helpful thoughts.

  I tried to come up with a pn, but needed time to gather my thoughts. I tried to distance myself by specuting about the enemy, sorting through what I knew. I very firmly didn’t phrase my thoughts as a question; if autopilot thought I was asking him something, he’d roll a knowledge check and plunge me directly into combat again.

  Melku is an artificer, and a damn good one, so these paintings are probably some kind of magic item. Magic items need a masterwork item to serve as a base, something with a story. History. Something that feels special. He has so many different paintings because he probably couldn’t just commission a dozen paintings of a dragon and animate those.

  Picking apart the problem helped to calm me, a little.

  These things seem like they might be weaker than the subject. Jape has around 11 hp, and I don’t think anyone is going to make a painting of him. That captain guy went down in one hit; either the painting version is a cheap knockoff or that guy was just flexing. I don’t know if a rap music promo image would qualify as a masterwork item, so I’ll assume the former.

  Magic items tend to get geometrically more expensive to make as they get stronger, so it probably makes sense to have a bunch of chumps. They might even primarily act as servants. Armor guy, though; he seems tougher. At minimum he hits pretty hard and is wearing full pte. He was also the painting that guarded the key. So probably lots of mooks and a handful of heavies at key locations? Alright then. Pn is to knock out the heavy, and get us somewhere we can’t be swarmed.

  “Sandara, get the door open, then secure the room with Cog.” I ordered, “Syl, Sima, fighting retreat. Take down the knight if you can.”

  As I spoke, I drew in power, which I released with an outstretched hand. The painted Hellknight’s armor exploded off of his body, revealing a muscur green skinned man with small tusks. A half-orc, then. The armor, once corporeal, dissolved into sptters of bck paint. (Cast 2nd level spell: Disrobe)

  Sima’s AC is shit when she doesn’t have armor on, so hopefully this guy will be a hell of a lot easier to take down now.

  Sandara scrambled away from the naked orc, who was after all still armed and dangerous. Once she was out of his reach, she spped her own shoulder, releasing a spark of healing energy that danced down her back. Her double, an illusory copy she created as a distraction, covered her as she shoved the key into Cog’s hands. He, in turn, turned, unlocked the door with a resonating click, and charged through the opening.

  “Oh god damn it,” a voice from inside the room groused, more annoyed than scared.

  I didn’t hear the rest of his words, because a few military officers down the hallway were packing heat. They didn’t bother coming fully out of their paintings; instead they leaned out as if from behind cover, aiming their revolvers down range. They aimed at Syl, but she leapt to the side after the first shot grazed her shoulder, dodging reflexively.

  Syl has been shot for 5 damage.

  Sosima drew her cutss, an enchanted bde formerly owned by Plugg, and a light shield. She stepped in close to the naked half orc, and flicked her bde across his chest, drawing a thin line of blood. Her voice cut through the air, overwhelming the senses as she filled it with bardic magic.

  “Your doom comes, and it comes through me!” She sang, “Gaze not upon lesser foes, die with dignity.”

  Sosima has used Boast: Distracting Dispy.

  Rippling Boast: Hellknight Trompe L’oiel has taken 3 sonic damage

  You have made a reflexive stealth check (2+9=11) Fail.

  Syl has succeeded a reflexive stealth check. Syl is hidden from all enemies for one round.

  Sandara has succeeded a reflexive stealth check. Sandara is hidden from all enemies for one round.

  Cog has succeeded a reflexive stealth check. Cog is hidden from all enemies for one round.

  I heard a booming roar like a lion from beneath my feet, a feral counterpoint to Sosima’s song.

  We gotta get out of this hallway.

  The st remaining pirate charged Sosima, seeming to forget about Syl entirely. Syl hooked her in passing with her bloody sickle, nicking an artery as she did. The pirate wench put her full weight behind the blow, striking Sosima’s armored side with a resounding crack, then defting like a pricked water balloon. The blood turned to crimson paint as it fell, spttering Sosima and the floor alike.

  Syl has struck Buccaneer Trompe L’oiel B

  Buccaneer Trompe L’oiel B has struck Sosima for 6 damage

  Buccaneer Trompe L’oiel B has succumbed to bleed damage

  The knight was reeling, reflexively trying to hide himself for a moment before snapping back to the task at hand. His next strike was clumsy, allowing Sosima to deflect it with contemptuous ease and respond with a swipe of her own. He was used to relying on his armor, and barely even tried to dodge. Grey and red paint spttered the wall, but he didn’t colpse like the pirates immediately. Instead, his body shuddered and distorted as his painted skin shifted to cover up the injury. Syl stepped into his blind spot, sickle and dagger raised to strike. By the time she finished him off, he was a faceless grey smudge, the painter’s afterthought, worthy of only a few vague flicks of the brush.

  I took stock of the situation on my turn; our initial wave of assaints had gone down easily enough, but more were on their way. The dozen schoolgirls had their knives drawn and ready to go. Behind them, further down the hall, a man in a duster with a wide brimmed hat was stepping around the corner. In the other direction, four gunmen were shooting at us from cover and I heard the echoes of distant combat punctuated by vengeful roars.

  I wish Rowe were here. She’s great with crowds of enemies.

  “Into the room! Double time!” I yelled, and matched deed to word.

  My shadow remained behind me, rising from the floor to hold the line while my girls retreated. (Shadow Puppet Companion summoned)

  Melku’s bedroom was richly appointed, the walls decorated with tapestries and a single painting of the night sky over Goatshead. The moon in the painting glowed faintly, releasing barely enough light to allow my eyes to see color. A pair of wooden dressers stuffed to overflowing with clothes took up two of the walls, with a tall undry basket nestled between them.

  Cog loomed over a small, blue-green figure in striped pajamas sitting up from bed. He wasn’t wearing pants, as his legs were a tangled mass of octopus tentacles. Melku was a Grindylow, and from his slight pout he was mostly just annoyed with us.

  “So, what is it this time?” He asked in a reedy grumble, rubbing sleep from his eyes, “kidnapping, extortion? Might as well hear the demands up front.”

  That's a bad sign. He’s not taking us seriously.

  Honestly he lives in Goatshead, he probably just gets kidnapped a lot. (Secret Sense Motive 18+1=19)

  Probably not. People who are constantly attacked get more anxious, not bse, right?

  Water goblin.

  Oh, quiet you. I’m going to work on the assumption there’s something we don’t know.

  “Just hoping to talk to you about an idea I have.” I said, “I tried going through proper channels but you didn’t seem keen on it.”

  Outside, I heard the crack of several gunshots. I received the mental feedback of a few shallow cuts from my shadow, stinging lines shooting down my arms. Uncomfortable but not too distracting. Sosima staggered through the door, her armor dispying a tracery of faint cracks from the gunshot it absorbed.

  “Ah. The pretty elf.” Melku said, squinting at me. “Oh, you’re a guy. Huh. Alright I’ll build your damn piano. Do you have everything here that you need for it? I hate working with people that aren’t prepared.”

  Sandara released a pulse of positive energy, sending a warm tingle through my body. Her own injuries closed up entirely, but Sosima was still moving gingerly.

  “What? No, I don’t have a thousand gold in raw materials on my person.” I asked, trying hard to keep my voice cool. “It seems like a bad idea to load myself down if I’m already extorting you. We can use yours. Now call off the paintings.”

  Syl came into the room and smmed the door behind her, taking long, steadying breaths. She was spattered with a vibrant scarlet that didn’t match the far darker red of her own blood.

  “No, I don’t think I will.” Melku said with a shrug. “I don’t think you’re going to kill me, and if you do, I have insurance. I’ll cooperate in order to get you to fuck off, since you aren’t asking for anything too extravagant.”

  He made a shooing gesture. I felt my Shadow puppet dismiss itself, full of holes and useless as a combatant.

  “Now go clear a path to my b.” He ordered. “I assume you know where it is, since you came right to my bedroom.”

  “Nope, sounds like a trap to me. Cog, don’t let him move. Cut him if you have to.” I said firmly. “Sandara, search the room. Something is off. Syl, Sima, watch the door.”

  While Sandara flitted about, opening drawers and sticking her head under furniture, I used my precious action to view the arcane auras around me. Perhaps unsurprisingly in the bedroom of a famous artificer, much of the furniture was enchanted. The chest of drawers, for example, had an extradimensional space worked into it. I aborted Autopilot’s analysis; he was focusing on the wrong thing. I saw a familiar aura.

  “Cog. Cut him.” I ordered. “Just a little.”

  Cog shrugged and did as I said, making a small nick along one of Melku’s exposed tentacles. The knife came away with a spsh of navy blue blood. As the knife came away, the tentacle rippled and stretched, painting over the imperfection with a dark smudge.

  “That’s not Melku.” I spat. “If we’re unlucky, this whole bedroom might be a decoy. Misinformation he leaked.”

  “Oh wow!” A shrill voice called from behind me, “Great idea, I’m definitely stealing that one.”

  I turned and saw Sandara lifting a shirtless grindylow out of the undry basket behind me. He looked broadly simir to the one Cog was standing over, save that he wasn’t wearing pajamas. Outside, the roaring reverberated through the walls, leaving my ears ringing.

  Whatever that is, it’s on the same floor as us.

  “Oh come on, master!” The fake Melku groused. “You could have at least pretended to be some kind of double fake.”

  “What good would it have done?” Real Melku asked, “I don’t want to get stabbed for verification! So, piano? Does it do anything fancy? If not I can probably knock it out by te morning.”

  “Call off the paintings first.” I ordered. “I’ve lived through enough sieges for one lifetime and I frankly don’t want to know what’s roaring out there.”

  “Uh… independent creatures. I can’t do it en masse.” He said, shrugging. “Hey, back in your frame. What DID I get that roars like that… did I finish the tiger painting near the rder after all?”

  As the real artificer muttered to himself, The fake Melku sighed and crawled back into the skyline. He crawled up onto the roof at the base of the painting and id on his back, creating a tableau of a grindylow in pajamas staring at the stars.

  Under the watchful eye of both Sandara and Autopilot, Melku shouted orders to stand down through the door. There was no magic involved; they were just naturally subservient to the little grindylow’s orders.

  “So I really do need to get to my b, or at least my supply closet.” He said apologetically. “Do you mind if I make it out of bear bones? I’ve got a lot of those. I made this thing that… never mind, not important, let’s go.”

  We walked in formation, Melku at the center. Unfortunately, as we turned the corner at the end of the hallway, a roar echoed behind us. Syl barely dodged out of the way of a silver dinner pte that embedded itself halfway into the wall right next to her. Cog gnced over his shoulder and bnched.

  “Very dangerous at short to medium distances.” He choked out.

  At the other end of the long hallway, a group of five people emerged: a man with a bck beard, a petite girl with light brown skin and a red jacket, an elf with a shock of bright blue hair to her shoulders, a rugged old man in a striped shirt, and a ginger catgirl in flowing skirts.

  “I’m very sorry, but I can’t let you take that artificer.” Captain Pepper Bck called, hefting another pte, “he’s a real pilr of the local economy, and I would hate to see him hurt. If you leave him behind, I’d be happy to let you flee.”