Chapter Six: The Muster of Caltlikrath

Mordred's throat burns from the strong liquor. There isn't much cover here save for the root mass, which Mordred suspects would be the worst possible place to hide.

"She will not survive the summoning," the hunter says, but he makes no move to stop Zangua.

As Zangua approaches, a stout chunk of root half way up the column bursts open, revealing a malevolent yellow-orange eye nearly two feet across. Its pupil swivels around erratically as brown slime oozes like tears from its corners.

"It will not be long now," the hunter says.

"Demon hunting is my profession," he replies.

Some of the strands of slime start to sway and pulse as if possessed by some animating spirit.

The hunter takes his gourd back after everybody (who wants one) has had a drink. "The manifest body can be broken down like any other flesh. It just is a bit more work. We will wait until it is fully present on this plane before we engage it in combat."

The creatures emerging from the malign nest of roots reminds Mordred of midnight stories told of Abyssal creatures worshipped by primitive cults.

Felor sees only a mockery of the natural order of Fjorgyn, a demon with no right to inhabit this Werld.

One yellow-brown pseudopod of slime launches out from the roots and slaps itself across the woman's back. She lets out an involuntary cry as the pseudopod tenses and starts to drag her and her dead companion into the roots. Several more knots of wood burst open. The slime is beginning to coalesce into a vaguely unified form, a single thick column surmounted by the eye, with many flailing slime-tentacles attached.

Roll for initiative.

Zangua had time to drink the potion.

The hunter mutters something to himself, a quiet prayer perhaps, as the demon tears itself free of the roots.

Edit: Zangua and Domarc, you can take the first actions.