PrP: We All Float Down Here
Log Info
- Title: We All Float Down Here
- Emitter: Lenore
- Characters: Virton (Art2)* Charity (Mnk2)* Raniq (Wiz2) Charlotte (Swb4)* Aya (Mnk4)* Landau (Clr3)*
- Place: Alexandria - The Sewers
- Time: Apr 21, 2016
- Summary: There's been an unexpected and torrential downpour lately, and the sewers are backed up. Folk in the Noble Quarter of Alexandria have begun to complain about the smell, and though the majority of the lower classes have just ignored it as part of spring, the guard has been harassed enough to put in a formal request to the Adventurer's Guild to dispatch some brave, fine, noseless diddies down there to see what's causing the issue. Are you adventurer enough?!
- APL: 3
- Encounter 1: 3 Otyugh, CR 4 (Each)
ST:
Ah, yes. Spring is in the air. The markets are glorious; alive with the bustling activity that had so recently been slowed by the cold weather, the streets filled with hawkers and the brightly-clothed ladies that answer their boistrous calls for the finest fashions and accessories newly arrived from Veyshan. Flowers bloom, the skies are nearly pure, only specked by the occasional fluffy, happy little cloud, street-meat vendors fill the space with the aroma of their spices and rich wood smoke in a varitable smorgasbord from nations aplenty, all now finding this place to be their home.
Until the group that has been collected turns the corner.
Into an alley.
Apparently filled to the brim with shit.
What was just moments ago a mid-class center of business and trade is now the backway 'round, the bits that remain hidden, with the people that the rest of the world wish would do the same. Peasantry and ne'er-do-wells huddle here and there on a ground run damp with backed up sewage, staining the blankets and hides they've cloaked themselves in, a cacaphony of coughs, hocking, spitting and other various signs of illness speaking well of just how divided the civilized nations can be.
"You tha' lot what they sent ova' on account'a them pishy twats up ra way?" A muck-stained, grey-draped figure hobbles forward in a half-crawl, half-waddle that forces the grubby little woman to use one of her disease-warped hands by way of bulbous knuckles like a support. One gleaming, milky bluish eye glares upward from beneath a cheese-cloth styled fabric that hangs from the lip of her cowl, mostly masking the deep jowls and horrid breath from truly being seen. With a grunt and a huff of fowl air, she sits back down in a squat that splashes up the murky puddle about the boots of those nearest, her breath labouring, wheezing in and out.
Before she awaits a response, that same gnarled hand is lifted as though to point down the dimly lit grime toward a yawning hatch that leads toward the literal bowels of Alexandria, her head turning to follow her own directing, the near toothless grin of hers glinting in the scarce light allowed in this cesshome. "Jus' tha' way, m'darlin's. Mind th'rats, ey? Awful 'hings, 'em, awful whit they does, m'lovelies, awful tha'." She mutters on, hunkering back down upon herself, pulling her ragged robe tight, her head and hand lowering at once until she looks like little more than one more pile of refuse on cobble street.
Perhaps that's all they are.
Raniq stops short as the stench smacks him like a brick wall. His ermine chitters and ducks under Raniq's cloak. Registering that they've been spoken to, Raniq says, "Um... yeah, that's us."
PLacing a hand over her mouth and nose, like that'll help, Charlotte turns the corner and.....coughs. "So glad I didn't eat." She says as she walks over to...and listens to the lady. "Rats huh? Something bigger than rats are down there if something's plugged up. And the fact the Otyughs aren't helping with it....something's up."
Aya puts a hand to her face before they even turn the corner. Afterwards, she clamps it tighter. She glances sidelong one way, then the other. "How much was the contract for?"
It's a glorious time to be able to not gag, because you lack the organs for it. Virton shifts his orange-eyed gaze around a few times, staring around the alleyway. If he could properly form facial expressions, you'd bet there'd be a bit of horror and a bit of interest. I mean. He just came out of a lovely marketplace into shit-city. The buzzing tone that escapes from Virton's vocalizer is probably his attempt at a sigh. "It don't matter none what the contract was worth, now. We accepted, an' we got that there duty to do." He buzzes.
"We are, ma'am. That'sa right." The Golem's gaze follows her pointing hand, and he gives a firm nod. "Much obliged, ma'am. You stick round these parts, away from the hole. We're gonna be headin' down to 'vestigate."
"You wouldn't have this sort of mess in Tashraan." Landau says dissaprovingly, his hooked nose wrinkling in distaste as he pulls a scarf over his lower face to try and assauge the scent,"Its too deccicated for one." he notes drily as his eyes follow and ears listens to the general opine of the problem, his personal hope of finding some remnant of the depper history on alexandria sinking even as the stench rises.
"Tashraan probably cleans their messes..." Aya offers off-hand. Yes, there is a task to accomplish. No, it will probably not be worth the compensation.
Unfortunately, oruch have pretty sensitive noses. Thankfully for her WILL OF IRON, Charity, a tall dark-skinned sort, she could bear it. Perhaps not grinning, but bear it. "Normally, evil has a stench, but this..." She grumbles. "This is beyond the pale - and it doesn't seem to originate in any vileness but that of a sewer. Why is there all this refuse outside?"
But then she is directed below, by a NICE OLD LADY. Well, that's all that THIS orc needs! Dragon Dad is her copilot.
Raniq says, "That sewer is DEFINITELY vile."
ST:
"Aren't my contract, hen, couldnae tell ye's." Muffles the now-lump of old woman, ruffling her fabrics like some musty old pidgeon getting ready to die. She snorts, hacks, coughs, wheezing and choking without bothering to lift that deformed appendage to cover it, shuddering as she gasps in a breath or two. When she's finished with her fit, that milky eye darts up and around to the group gathered once more, going wide. "Whit! Ye're still here?! Ach, awee!" She flails her one arm around, shuffling about in the sopping puddle that's now drenched her clothing, spraying it hither and yon in her aggressive motions. "Get ye goan!"
Seems they'll not get anything more from her.
The stench as the group nears the yawning portal into the unknown just gets worse and worse, a creaky, ancient looking iron-bar ladder hanging downward, the bars strewn with god only knows what -- it looks like kelp. Where is the kelp coming from?
Drip... Drip... Drip...
Once the entire party has descended the rusty ladder into the grimy underbelly, they might note the floating, bloated bodies of enormous rats that drift down an ever-moving river of a liquid best left to the imagination. The bits of garbage that float along like some sort of entourage or escort detail into the darkest places, some managing to slick-slip their way through large grates at the end mostly blocked up by the mounds of morbidity, causing the canals to backflow around the rotting furbags, washing up over what were once walkways to allow for the city workers to make their way through.
Venice sure has gone downhill.
The air is foul and thick, a choking stagnation that runs contrary to the distant howling through the endless maze of tunnels like some mournful beast in the night, lending an eerie ambiance to what would have otherwise been a clear choice for vacation destination of the year.
From one of the anals nearby, a splish-splash-splish can be heard, snarling and growling, a gluttonous snuffle-smacking that ends with several new 'voices' adding in, sounding very nearly like a common word in a very uncommon uttering:
"Mmmine?"
It's at this time that some sort of fighting breaks out around the corner, wild and uncontrolled, until a -massive- Otyugh drags its mangled, boil-covered, festering carcass out into the deeper darkness, completely ignoring the party. The other three beasties that chase it, mind you, seem very interested in you, indeed!
In a confined space filled with effluent what would be the best possible action to take? I know, a concussive explosion of sound that will send dung and rather more liquid wastes everywhere! grasping his holy symbol with one hand, the Cenrenzan priest chants a prayer that ends with him flunging out a hand towards the ugly biological waste disposal units catching them in a thunderous implosion and then explosion of expanding air that flings detrious up against the walls and roof of the sewer.
Charlotte had hoped to come here to help the Otyughs. When one lashes out at her and bites her leg, Charlotte has to defend herself. Landing on her feet, Charlotte drives her blade into the Otyugh and twisting it just a little. "I dunno what's the matter with you.....but I'll have to kill you if you keep this up."
The much on the ground is more than enough. The last thing Aya wants is some foul thing rubbing its tentacles all over her. She stays well away from the writhing blobs of ooze, pulls a vial from her belt, and quaffs it. This forms a brief flash of a barrier around her.
"What in tarnation?" buzzes Virton, mostly at the huge Otyugh that comes rumbling by, and then the three others that apparently decide they'd rather gnosh on adventurers rather than all the delicious refuse. The Golem shifts a bit at the sound burst, and as Charlotte rushes to meet the leader, the Golem promptly hauls up his thunderbelcher. He primes it, letting it buzz audiably -- then blasts it, the shell going wide. "Gosh darnit!"
Despite the Otyugh's determination to chomp on her arm, Charlotte punches it on it's teeth, and when it draws back, she stabs the blade into it's mouth. "Thankfully.........it wasn't mad too long."
Raniq takes a 5 ft. step back and casts a spell, by which force armor magically envelopes him.
Sidestepping around the awful poop-consuming beastie going after Landau, Charity tries to get a hold of it, before just delivering a solid 'thunk' with a swift kick. "Friend!" She calls to Landau. "Be less attractive to the beasts!"
If she's making a joke at his expense, it's hidden in her monkish poker face and fierce mein.
ST:
Waste does, in fact, explode everywhere, in every direction, over everybody.
Landau is now everyone's favourite guy!
With the blast of sound, the otyughs are momentarily staggered, snarling and snuffling as they lash out at anything and everything, including the swashbuckler that gets a little too close in her acrobatic tumblings. Here we use the term acrobatic very lightly. There is no response when she speaks to them; no true understanding that can be seen, despite their typical (albeit relative) intelligence. There's something about the eyes on the end of one of those stalks; a strange film that covers it, much the same as the woman that was above, shuffling about in the muck. Instead, it repays her for converse by way of lunging out to bite at her a second time! It gets pounded in the face like a cheap street hooker in a foreign land near a rowdy military bar, and lanced like the boils that often result from such encounters.
As soon as another of the Otyughs recovers from that awe inspiring explosion of shit, it comes wailing at Landau, mouth hatched wide, the insides blackened with yellowish spots and blotchy growths that form around the multitudes of teeth as though in threat. Those barbed tentacles of theirs, however, are what score their blows; they wrap about his limbs with all the divine courtesy of a venomous jellyfish honeymooner -- though, it's safe to say that she has certainly not saved herself for him. He should definitely demand his dowry back from the otyugh's father.
Perhaps he might still catch up to him.
It looks about ready to pull in the priest to make a tasty little lunch of the well-dressed man, maw unhinging with a sickening pop, greenish goop drooling out of its madly gawp'd mouth in anticipation. Oh, how she loves her dark meat. Come to Mam-AGKH!
It's around that time that Charity boots it one, causing a visible rippling of its rubbery hide, like a waterbed during an 80's party night gone awry, gaining a howling not unlike the winds that still whistle through long-lost sewer lines far, far away. The crying attracts the attention of the final Otyugh, its lip furrowing backward in a deep snarl as it lunges out to defend its compatriot with all the fervor a half-mad shitsucker can muster.
SNAP!
It comes up empty, but its threat is obvious.
"I shall endaevor to be less attractive in the future." Landau replies with gritted teeth, the whiteness a contrast against his dark skin and the smatterings and splatterings the combat in the sewer has caused. Thinking better than to delve into spell casting whilst within reach of the Otughs tentacles and beaked maw, the cleric draws things out occupying the creature with hastily imposed buckler work.
Charlotte makes sure the first Otyugh stays down, before she makes her way towards the one on Landau. When she gets there, she finds it's attention so hard on Landau, that she's able to slide the rapier in, pretty much where she wants. So she does....and it dies on the spot. She takes a deep breath, before she looks over her shoulder. "Something tells me this one will be a bit harder....."
Aya can only hope that her magical shielding shields her from at least some of the excreplosion. If nothing else, she isn't speaking, which means her mouth is closed. She deftly darts across the dook dodging dangling dangers, only to slip in the sludge as she swings a strike to stun.
Virton is quiet, probably mildly moritified by the fact that Charlotte has straight up killed two of the creatures in just a few stabs. His attention shifts to the third Otyugh, and he releases his Thunderbelcher - the weapon itself hanging off him by a leather strap. A small cannon pops up on the Golem's shoulder, which is then braced with two hands and fired off in a thick bolt of red lightning, leaving a burning welt on the side of the Otyugh.
Raniq flings a ball of invisible solidity, which magically smacks the monster.
ST:
Ay-chi-mama!
Charlotte has cleaned this place up like no otyugh before!
In fact, she may now be their Queen when this is over.
A gnashing of its disease-infested mouth is all that it manages as it sinks into the muck, and disappears with a blade buried in its warty hide, its deathrattle consumed by the septic swamp it once called its home, turning into a series of subtle bubbles that burst with the fury of a thousand suns; odiferous in its putrid waft of the leftover specials it had feasted upon for a lifetime, until something made it stop.
Virton's lightning scorches off the hide of the last remaining monstrous little bastard, skittering over the water's surface in arcing crimson that lights up the tunnel for yards onward, illuminating the giant carcass of the one that got away; resting, heaving breaths, cutting winds, clinging desperately to life as its massive maw chews on one of the dead rats that had floated by.
Hey, if you're gunna die, don't do it hungry, right?
After being sizzled and Aya's attempted assault, Oty3 makes an attempt at snapping its jaws down on Aya, infuriated by the invisible force that bounces its now confused face right off her. It goes to try again, but it eats an invisible missile, chomping down on nothing as it mini-explodes within, forcing a tiny toot, and sooty tendrils of smoke to be exhaled through the gaping nostrils on the top of its muzzle.
Seeing one of the remaining Otyugh getting all nom-nommy with another companion in ADVENTURING, Charity leaps into action, going both hands out to...
Get a good grip on the Otyugh.
Which is a titanic success! Which means she grapples...
An otyugh. This is less of a titanic success.
Alas, alone again. the Otugh attracted to him departed like all the others leaves Landau free to do what he wants, and that simply happens to be another prayer. One that requests Elune to bless this nasty sewer, and tilt the odds in their favor.
Charlotte shakes her head as she notices the last otyugh is attacking Aya. Not wanting to let down her allies, she makes her way over and stabs it once. "If you hadn't attacked us, you wouldn't be in this position.....now you're gonna die."
Aya may have attacked the things even if they hadn't attacked first, just because they're revolting... and they forced them to come down here, where it is also revolting. She strike the thing once with a knife hand and spins into a roundhouse kick. The latter sails over the crumpling form's ...head... like..part and Aya stumbles as the extra momentum and slick stone makes it hard to stop.
Raniq literally jumps with an excited fistpump. "Yeah, baby! Take that!"
ST:
Rawr-rawr-raw---huh??
The Otyugh seems momentarily baffled by the fact that Charity has now latched on to its mangy, pustule-covered body; its leathery skin makes contact with her own, and any time she moves, that skin peels off and sticks to her with all the stinking rancor it can manage, flaking and shedding like an overgrown snake that's been horribly burnt -- really, this is a cuddle sesh for the ages. This close, the Oruch gets a nosefull that the others will only ever have vivid, clear nightmares about for the next decade. After the initial shock has faded, those tentacles begin their languid, sultry dance around the limbs of Charity, the bristles of its barbs teasing along whatever flesh it can find.
Oh, how it's waited for this day...
...for so long...
A long, sticky tongue slinks out of its mouth to work its way over the oruch's face like a piece of chicken that's gone off -- that is to say, it's sticky and leaves a snailtrail all the way up her jaw. It snarls. Clearly, sweet nothings. "Mmnngghhn?" It entreats, seductively, pleadingly, bosom heaving, saliva glistening in the early morning su--er, sewer lamps. Just as this union is nearly completed, a knife-hand digs into the side of its throat, causing it to sieze up, and then collapse as Aya's foot goes sailing by like the graceful dove it is.
Each of the cadavers bubbles softly under the water.
'Water'.
In the distance, there is the whimpering, simpering whines of the great Otyugh that had once kept this area so clean, still stuffing its face with anything that gets near. A pitiful, wretched sound weasels its way to the group from its direction.
"....mmmmmine....?"
Raniq looks for the nearest river access... to jump in clothes and all.
Charlotte sighs at the Otyugh floats down river. "Mmmf." She starts to wipe off her rapier. "I don't really like doing that. They can be really nice, but territorial." She says as she uses the cloth to get the blood off of her blade. "Still.......We need to find the place where it's backed up." She says as she looks about, still wiping her blade clean.
Raniq stops, his enthusiasm deflated, and says, "Oh yeah, I guess we should get that sorted out."
"That was mighty disgustin' to watch, ma'am." Virton buzzes at Charity, as he goes stomping through the water without a care in the world. Mostly because he doesn't have a gorge to rise. The one that Charity was hugging -- wait, grappling -- gets a good eyeball at as the Golem leans down. He's picking himself up, after that. "Them three's that went after us looks mighty sick compared to the one back here," He states, thumbing towards the large Otyugh in the back that's beginning to stuff it's face again. "I'll be right back." He buzzes, stomping off through the muck.
"Here, darlin'. Here here." The whistling buzz noise is an attempt at a pleasant whistle, it's a bit awful. "There we go." *PHWIP, PWHIP*. Two darts, when the Golem is within touching distance of the whimpering Otyugh. Full of 100% goodness, considering that the tubes the darts have are stamped with the Emblem of Reos.
Aya makes a rather unhappy sound and her expression matches as she wipes her hand on a less-soild portion of her clothing. She looks to the larger one and gestures vaguely to the flotsam and jetsam. "-I- don't want them..." After looking around for flows and blockages, her expression doesn't improve at seeing the pile of decaying rats. "Nor those. Eat your fill."
Where her loose robe met otyugh, ICK happened. She is glad her STRONG BODY was not covered in minor cuts or bruises from training, otherwise this would be an awful time. She lets the limp sack of mouth and ugh drop from her grasp.
"A good hit!" She gives to Aya, before starting to take off her top and begining to carefully bundle it. It has become one with the filth. "It was worth it - for the protection of another!"
"Well, I'm all for leaving the bodies to the otugh." Landau equivocates shaking his hood in a futile attempt at dislodging some sticky mess that doesnt bear identifying,"Might want to lever the rarts out of the way first..." the cleric quickly reconsiders that notion as the mouth grinder starts up, wouldnt want to get in the way of that
Charlotte gives the Otyguh a salute with her rapier, now clean. And she slides it back into her rapier. "I am glad you are all right." She says as she walks her way towards the exit......
ST:
There is a roarous sound when the darts fire into the giant otyugh up the way, and then... it seems to realize that it's feeling better! It hauls its massive body up, snuffling about, looking for any signs of the previous threats to its bulk, before turning excitedly toward Virton; he is then covered in saliva as it runs its blackened tongue over the entirety of his front, flinging a now drenched poncho into his robotic face before it happily starts stuffing its maw with the garbage that's piled up.
"Mmmine," Snarflgarbl.
It won't be long now until this place is back to its normal disgusting self, it seems, with the rate at which this thing is going at it. Mystery solved! The day is won, the rightful Otyugh is saved, and th--oh my god, it's eating the dead ones...
"Mah poncho! Dangit!" declares the Golem. He's not upset about being licked, no. Otyugh's gonna do Otyugh things, but all this mess on his poncho. The Golem mutters and huffs in a low buzzing tone as he marches towards the exit.
~Fin