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Bastian nods his head, but his brown remains creased with concern. "Aye, but the wounds are slow to close. He may have been on death's door when I got to him." Bastian shakes his head a bit to clear his thoughts. "I'm not sure how I feel. Neither he nor I have fared well in the past hour or so."

Liri nods. "And I have not been faring well today either" she states flatly. "But I have hope that our fighters will be able to sort this out soon, as long as there aren't more coming out of any secret corners."

"My apologies, mi'lady. I had forgotten your own difficulties." Bastian replies with a slight bow of his head in her direction. "I hate to say it, but I am loath to continue this journey without a bit more preparation. For my own peace of mind, I wouldn't mind a stout scutum to hide behind!" Hopefully the jest translates well enough for Liri to understand. Bastian wasn't sure if Elves even use the Scutum shield.

"I could do with a drink..." Eldon mumbles, holding his head.

Bastian tips the bottle toward Eldon, "Sorry. Sacramental purposes only." A broad smile crosses his face as he continues. "Now, when we get out of here there is a shot of White Lightning waiting with Gertrude!"

"The battle is still going on!" Eldon mumbles, going for his weapons that aren't there. "I need to help...." he tries to stand and stumbles over.

Angel's shot connects, driving the grotdier into the wall. It rebounds and makes a desperate swing in return but misses.
Papa wades into the fight, but his slash goes wide of the mark.
The grotdier is visibly weakening, but not down yet.

======================

Standing, or even trying to stand, is not really in Eldon's vocabulary at the moment. In fact, talking is a bit of an effort, although the good news is that he has gone from mostly dead to mostly alive.

Init: 1d10+3=4

Attack: 1d20=11

Damage: 1d6=1

"Why. Won't. You. DIE!". Angel shouts, each word punctuated with a swing of her mace.

1d10=3, 1d20=15, 1d6+1=3
Hit AC 2 for 3dmg

Angel hears a quiet hiss at her left ear and feels tiny tug on her hair as an arrow passes over her shoulder from behind, taking a few hairs from her head in the passing. The arrow strikes the grotdier in its right shoulder. In her flurry of mace blows, one finally gets through, hitting the grotdier in the side of the neck and putting it down on the ground. She and Papa both swing again, to be sure, then look around the room to take stock.

The grotdier are all dead, or at least down and unmoving.

Eldon is down as well, although Bastian and Liri are working to bandage his wounds. Not one of your group is unwounded, and some of those wounds are severe.

Although mitigated considerably by the light from Bastian's blessed coin, the odd purplish lighting in the chamber persists - dim but at the same time creating harsh contrasts, and flickering or pulsing slightly.

To the left side of the room are a set of steps, leading to something like a pool, although the surface is completely still - not a ripple disturbs it. Above the surface is a wispy veil of violet mist. The strands of mist move at random, as if subjected to chaotic gusts of air although there is no breeze in the chamber. The source of the odd light seems to be the pool, or perhaps the mist itself.

The pool and the steps are finely made. The curb around the pool and the stair treads are completely smooth, carved flawlessly from the living rock of the cave. The face of the curb, and the stair risers, are decorated with strange carvings, as are the surrounding walls. But despite the fine workmanship there are signs of age - the steps are chipped at the edges, and two of them are cracked from settlement.

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[OOC]Sorry, folks - too lazy this morning to create a new illustration. Just consider the grotdier shown on this map to be grotdier corpses, okay? [/OOC]

(Click link above for full sized pic)

Falling to her knees, Angel lets the mace clatter noisly from her hand, "Can this place be defended?" She asks panting for breath. "Can you check...?" She asks the Ranger.

"Looks like," Maughus grunts, looking around the room, then turning the corner beyond the column. "But...hello. Who have we here?"

Maughus picks up a grotdier's fallen spear from the floor and walks back behind the column. "You all should see this," he calls.

Pulling herself up from the floor, collecting her mace and blade with some effort. "What, what have you found?" she hobbles over towards him.

Wearily, Liri picks up her gladius and follows Angel.

"Remember this one?" Maughus says.

There is a corpse propped against the wall - a heavily-muscled dwarf clad in a brigandine hauberk, his bald head covered in odd tattoos. A broken arrow protrudes from the front of the hauberk, and there are a few other cuts and tears in the armor as well, including a ragged cut just above the belt.








[OOC] Edited for typo. It was supposed to say "a heavily-muscled dwarf clad in a brigandine hauberk" not "a heavily-muscled dwarf lad in a brigandine hauberk". He's much older than a lad. And who uses the word "lad" these days, anyway? [/OOC]