The Severed Hand

After the party has had a chance to catch their breath, Alalla stands. She looks over the battered group, her gut twisting. She had almost lost Erevain twice within minutes, let alone the near misses the rest of the party had had as well. This can't continue. They have to get out of here.

"I'm probably the least exhausted," thank you, Bilewing, "so I'll go down and talk to Kayleesa, or whatever she is now. You lot keep getting what rest you can. No dying while I'm gone," she says, looking them each in the eye. "I'll be back in a minute." She checks her gear, kisses Erevain, then heads down the stairs.

HP: 124/124
Hit dice left: 5/12

Alalla steps from the stairs back out into the spacious chamber that has paths leading to the five towers - the palm of the Hand. Alone as she is, the darkness seems to press in more boldly against the flickering light of her flame sword.

"You return without your friends." The voice rasps even more than before, as though hoarse from screaming for hours on end. "Without... that one. Traitor. Thief! That bow does not belong to him. Especially not to him!"

"Zenithral's bloodline isn't his fault," Al says, repressing an eye roll, "and how was he supposed to know the bow was spoken for?" She shakes her head. Arguing with... whatever this is will do nothing.

"Up the stairs we met four elves, or what was left of them. They have been freed to live new lives. Does this satisfy our bargain?"

The voice sounds as though it might spit with rage, if there were any moisture to be had. "His bloodline... his bloodline! His blood... blood..." For a few timeless moments the voice dissipates into a multi-toned, moaning chant.

With great effort it wrests itself back to coherence. "As per our terms, adventurer. Within Solonor tower you will find a journal that once belonged to Larrel's daughter, Evayne. Reminding the archmage of his daughter may afford him the clarity you will need to deal with him."

The voice hacks a dry cough. "Evayne, who supposedly fled to seek help. Who took Arannis with her - the golden-haired hag! She - " The voice crackles with raw emotion, and Alalla notices in alarm that the walls seem to drip with some kind of oozing sludge.

"Will it provide him the clarity Arranis' name provided you?" Alalla asks dryly. She sidles away from the nearest wall. "Okay, hold on," she begins sharply. "For the record, Arranis' wife is human. I haven't asked, but she's a grandmother, so... sixties? You were mourned, Kayleesa."

"Human? The voice warbles halfway through the word, then drops in pitch to a much lower register. "Wife?" This time the voice sounds more present, more real. "He loved me. He was meant for ME!!!"

The walls continue to drip. The liquid congeals in one place, forming a vaguely humanoid form that quickly takes more solid shape. Eyes appear at the top - four of them. The head splits into two, and features appear on each. Pale skin, pointed ears. A woman's, a man's.

Alalla realizes that she knows both of the faces. Kayleesa's face is twisted with rage, but it is enough for Alalla to recognize her from the sporadic visions seen earlier during the psychic scream. The other... the elf's skin looks raw, as though scrubbed with an iron sponge, and his lips are slack and dry. Though she never met him in person, Alalla did see him through her husband's eyes, in the memories Erevain shared of the days leading up to his murder. Erestor's head hangs limply beside Kayleesa's, eyes staring at nothing.

The horrible apparition moves forward with surprising speed, arms ending in bone hooks raised to cut through Alalla's armor and flesh.

Alalla curses and dashes towards the stairs. The voice had said before that she couldn't leave the room. Hopefully that was true.

I thought you had learned to keep your fool mouth shut.

Alalla sighs with relief as she arrives at the party's resting place. "So," she says, steadying her breathing. "Some news. First, in exchange for our work, Kayleesa said that we can find Larrel's daughter's journal in Solonor tower. She thinks it could jar him and make him lucid again. I suspect though that his lucidity may be like hers, after having Arranis brought to her mind again.

Speaking of, she hates you," Al points to Zenithral, "and mentioning your grandmother is a very bad idea. She's oozed out of the walls, again oozed out of the walls, and really wants to kill something. Unfortunately, we can't get anywhere else in the tower without passing by her, and she's incredibly strong.

Also, she has Erestor's head." Alalla pauses and leans on her glaive. "As in, in addition to her own head. So I'm pretty much over this awful tower."

Erevain paces restlessly while Alalla is gone, eyes constantly flicking to the stairwell for any sign of her. When she returns, he sighs in relief, then listens quietly to her report. When she brings up the matter of their way to the next tower being blocked, he speaks up. "From outside the Hand, I saw high walkways that connected the tops of the towers - though they looked as worn as everything else in this place. If any remain connected to this tower - and are in good repair - we may be able to cross to another." He glances at the dead hippogriff. "However..."

HP: 77/88 + 14 thp

"Hates me?" Zenithral asks incredulously. "What have I done? That sounds an awful lot like unfair prejudice if you ask me..." He shrugs, exasperated, and sighs. "But what can I expect from someone dead-turned-monstrous by this place...?"

"Oh it is," Alalla says. "your family's choices aren't your fault whatever they are. But I was dumb, and said that out loud and here we are. She's just angry, and the perfect person to take it out on is the living proof that her lover married someone else, who happens to be carrying her bow. Seriously though, how did that happen?"

With furious eyebrow waggling, Fergy let's the group in on a secret.

"The flows of Chaos, they are to be credited. There is no such thing as coincidence where a true Agent of Choas roams."

Alalla frowns. "If its not a coincidence, then how can it be chaos? You're contradicting yourself." Alalla waves her hand. "Nevermind. Not making sense is pretty chaotic.

So, hippogriffs or angry lady? I'm partial to the angry lady. The hippogriffs are a big risk. Who knows how many there are out there? At least we know what we're getting with Kayleesa. Mostly."

Between snores the group can hear Ug mumble something about "no stupid kitties", he then rolls over and mumbles something happily about mamas.

115/121 + 14 thp

Erevain nods in agreement. The respite from combat seems to have done wonders for the, and he stands firmly next to Alalla. "Sharuhk, you are the only one to have seen Kayleesa. If you believe we can best her, somehow, then that is the course we should take." He pauses. "You should understand, however, that elves have long memories and a tendency toward grudges even in the best of times. If Kayleesa also revered a vengeful deity such as Sheveresh, her ire may indeed burn hot and long."

Gathering everyone together, Fergy has everyone help in the ritual. Putting everyone in specific (and oddly comedic) poses to help "channel the magic better", Fergy actually just casts the spell. Everyone gets a makeover, even Ug. Everyone grows a foot taller, and get almost obscenely muscular. For clothing, eeryone now appears to be wearing a loincloth and that's it. (Everyone looks male) Beyond everyone looking vaguely Goliath-like, the commonalities stop.

Al has her second eye back, but she also has a sideways pink mowhawk, red loooong mustache, and no teeth.

Ras is bald except for a long purple ponytail, and massive green eyebrows oddly high up on his head, and his tattoos are all kittens.

Erevain, for some reason stands out of the group (as difficult as that would be) by seeming old and fairly feeble. Sagging skin, hunched back, and whispy silver chest hair contrast his still hulking form.

Zen seems to have lost an eye, big scar running under an eye patch. (Illusiory so he can see through it) Also he looks as far from elf as possible. Baby like ears, massive forehead and jaws jutt from his oversized head, and his button nose looks like it's forever oozing various liquids.

Ug stands talker, bulkier and harrier than ever. Looking more like Gorril-Ug than normal Ug, you notice faint patches of off colored hair. If you look closer you'll see that the off patches look like all of Ug's favorite weapons.

Fergy, last but not least, looks as silly as the rest. His skin is white and black striped like a zebra. Instead of tatoos, piercings awkwardly dot his body.

Looking around at the group, Fergy nods in satisfaction.

"I really out-did myself this time. Ug, I think Nancy inspired my every decision here."