Kuldahar
Neither look up at Zenithral or Halla.
Against one wall lies the ugliest dog the party has ever seen. It is easily as big as Alalla, and has spiked barding protecting its legs and flanks. What passes for its face is eyeless, with a yawning circular maw filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Gobbets of this saliva drip from its open mouth to the floor.
Perhaps not a dog after all. Zenithral senses that it, too, is a fiend. It seems to be resting now, however.
Rolls
Investigation (Discern Illusions) - (1d20+8)
(18) + 8 = 26
He shrugs. "Anyway, that cutter is no dog. But it won't give you or them any trouble."
Casting a glance to see if the fiend is looking, waiting for an opportunity, the sorcerer speaks in a hushed voice to his friends.
"Have we yet a plan fer what is to come?"
The druid turns to glare at Whitcomb. "What is wrong with them? What have you done to them!"
He gestures at the twins. "Sods have been this way since I found them. A blood's guess? They didn't much like that the townsfolk turned stag on them. But maybe now they'll be peery. Bodies such as them are going to have a rough go of it, no matter what kip they place their feet. Better peery than lost." The emphasis he gives that last word are enough to show he doesn't mean merely losing one's way.
The fiend rolls his shoulders as if to loosen them, then points at the dog-thing. "I bet you berks have never seen one of these. It's valuable as a guardian. Keeps bodies from teleporting in. There are clever spivs who know better how to use them though. If you hunt a peery foe what uses magic to give you the laugh, they'll not be so pleased to find their usual escape routes are closed." He nonchalantly examines the nails of one hand. "You know that teleportation is a favorite tactic of the high-ups of the Blood War, don't you? Especially them baatezu. Even a certain discredited archdevil - one who doesn't pay me so well as a cutter should."
He summons Fluphy, outside the door. Can you speak to them?
Zenithral's first attempt to summon Fluphy fails, and the dog-fiend perks up, muscles around its circular mouth rippling.
"See? The dimensional lock works just fine, even through the demiplane doorway. Fancy Trick, don't you agree? Just back up a bit."
But not truly a conversation. Instead of Mona thinking Lance a thought, and then Lance thinking one back, the two are engaged in a simultaneous loop with instant communication and response. The strength of the connection is especially due to the content being shared.
Both cambions are reliving every moment of confusion and fear in their lives. The terror of birth, which they somehow remember. Living in the Hand, and all the terrible things there. Erestor. Waiting for Zenithral. Father Tulfgyr's death. Furious blood hunters intent on killing them. The last, in particular, has their terror feeding off of itself, all-consuming and oppressive, to the point that they are currently unaware of anything else.
Ilmater, please help remove their fear, their pains. Allow them to see truth and light, so they can endure.
Harmony and Valiance, silent as usual, take comfort in the presence of their older brother.
A moment later Halla joins the huddle, a trail of tears making its way down her cheeks.
Not to be left out of all the positive feelings, Fluphy settles down on Zenithral's head and glows a happy yellow.
---
The fiend lets out a whistle. "It's a sight to warm the cockles of an ice devil's heart." He tosses the pouch of gold once more. "Enjoy it while you can. Cambions never end up far from the Lower Planes, in body or in spirit."
"It's alright. It's going to be alright," Zenithral says, ignoring Whitcomb and returning the embrace. "Let's go, shall we?" He leads them by the hands out the door.
"Try to keep this memory and feeling in their minds if you can," Zenithral tells Fluphy.
"Speaking of the Lower Planes." Al tosses the money forward, showering the fiend with the coins. "You're not welcome on this one." As Whitcomb throws up his hands to protect his face, Alalla follows the silver with the gold of her glaive.
Whitcomb takes 79 slashing and 71 radiant damage. He must make a strength save or be knocked prone and two wisdom saves or be afraid of Al until the end of her next turn.
Rolls
Initiative - (1d20+1, 1d20+1)
1d20+1 : (17) + 1 = 18
1d20+1 : (10) + 1 = 11
Whitcomb Initiative - (1d20+1)
(11) + 1 = 12
Attack 1 - (1d20+10)
(2) + 10 = 12
Attack 2 - (1d20+10)
(6) + 10 = 16
Attack 3 - (1d20+10)
(5) + 10 = 15
Attack 4 - (1d20+10)
(20) + 10 = 30
CRIT DAMAGE - (2d10+25, 2d8+16)
2d10+25 : (79) + 25 = 41
2d8+16 : (26) + 16 = 24
Damage reroll - (1d8+22)
(5) + 22 = 27
Attack 5 - (1d20+10)
(16) + 10 = 26
Damage - (2d10+5)
(92) + 5 = 16
Damage reroll - (1d10+14)
(2) + 14 = 16
Attack 6 w/ branding smite - (1d20+10)
(12) + 10 = 22
Damage - (2d10+5, 2d6)
2d10+5 : (89) + 5 = 22
2d6 : (34) = 7
Extra crit radiant damage I forgot - (1d8+8)
(4) + 8 = 12
Tacking on some more smites - (6d8)
(231611) = 14
Damage reroll - (4d8+9)
(3454) + 9 = 25
Dog initiative - (1d20)
(20) = 20
Al is pulled into the demiplane, takes 36 piercing damage, and is grappled and restrained by the thing's tongue.
Rolls
Canoloth vs Alalla (adv) - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)
1d20+7 : (20) + 7 = 27
1d20+7 : (20) + 7 = 27
Dmg to Al - (2d12+28)
(17) + 28 = 36
2nd vs Al (adv) - (1d20+7, 1d20+7)
1d20+7 : (2) + 7 = 9
1d20+7 : (6) + 7 = 13
Reo initiative - (1d20)
(7) = 7