As the ghast's mind collapses under the force of the spell, Dima gets a brief flash of insight into the identity of these two creatures: Gustav and Elisabeth Durst.
With a final wail, Elisabeth crumples to the ground, now little more than a smoking heap of charred flesh and exposed bone.
He may have the sense that this insight didn't come from his spell, but rather from the rings he wears.
<.>
Dima is. Very suddenly. Very still. And looking concerned, his hand still half-lifted.
He'll absolutely look at his hand and the rings upon it.
Places his hand over the rings and think, ’I’m very sorry. Sorry you saw that. Sorry I brought you here.
'But the ones who gave you so much pain are gone now.’
[ARC: 16; with Bardic Inspiration from Sen]
<.>
Though he can't interpret the specifics of what's being communicated, there's a a sense from the rings that floods through and past him: grief, yes, but also gratitude.
Dima understands the children are thanking him for putting their parents' spirits to rest.
Later, Rose may verbally convey to him that those things weren't their parents anymore.
<.>
Dima's going to sink onto the bed, cross-legged, staring at the rings and fighting a subtle burn in his eyes, and a worried relief, a sense like... What, achievement? Like having done something, taken part in managing something worthwhile.
He's rubbing his hand; he's rubbing the rings. He's nearly forgotten the scene around him.
And he thinks, ’I will keep you safe. No more absence. You're with me, and here you'll stay.’
(A thought, not put to clarity, not meant for the children's hearing: He'd like for there to be four of them. Another to care for the children beside Dmitri, and there is only one other who would do— But that's not the focus for the moment. He has to be more careful with Fae.)
<.>
Faolan has been watching whatever's happening with Dmitri, and though he doesn't have specifics, he sees the man looking at the rings.
Undone by something to do with the rings.
He looks around the room and takes a breath, eyeing Sen and Rin, looking down at his own wounds as the flame blade vanishes.
"I think -" he starts, then decides maybe to stop saying I think, and instead just say what he means. "We need to rest. Really rest. This seems like a good place, if we drag out the bodies and -"
He gestures to the burning wardrobe.
"Douse that."
"It's only got the one entrance. We can block it, take turns keeping watch. Take turns sleeping."
Sen doesn't argue. He's holding one hand over the bite wound at his shoulder to stem the flow of blood and can't agree more: he needs a rest. Still, he casts a glance at Rin to seek their opinion, first.
<.>
Rin is, in fact, already staring at Sen with clear concern, and they're already nodding. "It's smart. Since we don't know how far this goes—" They shrug with one shoulder, settle just a little closer to Sen, offering him their shoulder, their horns to rest on. "And I'd rather heal a little before moving on. There was that whole spikes in a pit incident, you know. :/" And there's the whole. Sen actively bleeding out thing. Which they don't care for at all.
<.>
Very softly, Sen whispers, "I'm very sorry, Pretty Rin."
<.>
Rin huffs a soft sound of faux disapproval. "Don't you dare be sorry, Sir Sen. Just close your eyes and get some sleep, okay? You destroyed a creature just there; now you've got to rest up."
Dima slowly, slowly becomes aware of what's happening around. It takes a minute to piece together the questions, the propositions, and then he nods agreement, shaking his head, rising. "I'll take first watch. There's a spell I can cast— An extra precaution against approach. It'll alert us all if anything breaks the barrier." Alarm; he'll cast Alarm, settle in for his watch, then - hopefully - sleep soundly.
He's very tired, he's realizing.
And he's gazing at Faolan again. There's an upward tick of his lip, a smile both apologetic and appreciative, and he Messages: [ That was skillful work with the blade, Faolan. A flaming scimitar? That's very good. ]
And: [ We all have quite some way to go, but I believe we owe you a good deal for your talk on teamwork. There wasn't a single push this time; that's a start, yes? ]
Once the fire has been doused and the bodies removes, Dima is going to cast Alarm, encompassing the room and the hall leading to it. If anything crosses the line, the sound of a hand bell will fill their room.
<.>
Faolan helps this process with Control Flames, extinguishing the wardrobe's fire with a motion that almost...mimics. What Dima did only yesterday.
He doesn't respond to the messages, but as he watches Sen and Rin curl up together in a corner - Sen somewhat better after a healing spell sent his way by Faolan - he thinks...
He thinks.
And he glances at Dmitri.
And after a moment: [ I'll sit up with you. ]
Faolan positions himself on the floor ten feet from the beginning of the hallway, his back to the wall, deaf to any arguments from Dmitri. After a hesitation, he extends a hand and - with tired amusement:
[ For stealth? ]
<.>
He does try, at first, to insist that Faolan sleep. He's been wounded; he'll need his rest to heal, and to regain his magic.
But it'd be a little easier to keep watch, wouldn't it, with Fae beside him? (It'd be easier to hold the knowledge, the sensations he's just gleaned. It'd be easier not to fall into wondering just what he's done, and what all of this means.)
And of course. And of course, Dima would like very much to sit beside this man.
So he ceases protestation with the sight of Faolan's hand. So he smiles, tired, and settles in beside the man, clasping his hand, not over-tight, but showing no sign of release.
[ For stealth. ]
And.
[ Thank you, Faolan. ]
<.>
The "night" passes uneventfully; Dima and Fae are able to prepare their spells while they sit up; they spend the rest of the watch talking with Dima's Message cantrip. Eventually they trade off with Sen and Rin, and though Fae doesn't touch him, he lies close to Dima while he sleeps. Near enough to give the impression he's protecting the man.
As they swap, Sen will find the chest still open at the foot of the bed. Touching the contents summons nothing further, and within it he finds:
- Four potions of healing - a chain shirt - a mess kit - a bullseye lantern - a set of thieves' tools - a spellbook with a yellow leather cover, containing the following mage spells: 1st level: disguise self, identify, mage armor, magic missile, protection from evil and good 2nd level: darkvision, hold person, invisibility, magic weapon
Sen argues this last should go to Dima as spoils of victory; Dima has enough time to prepare spells from this list, if he chooses.
Seven or eight hours pass; the party is back to full health, full spell slots, has eaten, and is ready to continue searching for whatever is lurking in the bowels of the house's dungeon.
Between sleeping and waking, Dima hears a voice speaking to him, but the message is unclear. He has a strong urge, near-obsessive, to grab hold of the raven totem when he wakes.
no subject
With a final wail, Elisabeth crumples to the ground, now little more than a smoking heap of charred flesh and exposed bone.
He may have the sense that this insight didn't come from his spell, but rather from the rings he wears.
<.>
Dima is. Very suddenly. Very still. And looking concerned, his hand still half-lifted.
He'll absolutely look at his hand and the rings upon it.
Places his hand over the rings and think, ’I’m very sorry. Sorry you saw that. Sorry I brought you here.
'But the ones who gave you so much pain are gone now.’
[ARC: 16; with Bardic Inspiration from Sen]
<.>
Though he can't interpret the specifics of what's being communicated, there's a a sense from the rings that floods through and past him: grief, yes, but also gratitude.
Dima understands the children are thanking him for putting their parents' spirits to rest.
Later, Rose may verbally convey to him that those things weren't their parents anymore.
<.>
Dima's going to sink onto the bed, cross-legged, staring at the rings and fighting a subtle burn in his eyes, and a worried relief, a sense like... What, achievement? Like having done something, taken part in managing something worthwhile.
He's rubbing his hand; he's rubbing the rings. He's nearly forgotten the scene around him.
And he thinks, ’I will keep you safe. No more absence. You're with me, and here you'll stay.’
(A thought, not put to clarity, not meant for the children's hearing: He'd like for there to be four of them. Another to care for the children beside Dmitri, and there is only one other who would do— But that's not the focus for the moment. He has to be more careful with Fae.)
<.>
Faolan has been watching whatever's happening with Dmitri, and though he doesn't have specifics, he sees the man looking at the rings.
Undone by something to do with the rings.
He looks around the room and takes a breath, eyeing Sen and Rin, looking down at his own wounds as the flame blade vanishes.
"I think -" he starts, then decides maybe to stop saying I think, and instead just say what he means. "We need to rest. Really rest. This seems like a good place, if we drag out the bodies and -"
He gestures to the burning wardrobe.
"Douse that."
"It's only got the one entrance. We can block it, take turns keeping watch. Take turns sleeping."
Sen doesn't argue. He's holding one hand over the bite wound at his shoulder to stem the flow of blood and can't agree more: he needs a rest. Still, he casts a glance at Rin to seek their opinion, first.
<.>
Rin is, in fact, already staring at Sen with clear concern, and they're already nodding. "It's smart. Since we don't know how far this goes—" They shrug with one shoulder, settle just a little closer to Sen, offering him their shoulder, their horns to rest on. "And I'd rather heal a little before moving on. There was that whole spikes in a pit incident, you know. :/" And there's the whole. Sen actively bleeding out thing. Which they don't care for at all.
<.>
Very softly, Sen whispers, "I'm very sorry, Pretty Rin."
<.>
Rin huffs a soft sound of faux disapproval. "Don't you dare be sorry, Sir Sen. Just close your eyes and get some sleep, okay? You destroyed a creature just there; now you've got to rest up."
Dima slowly, slowly becomes aware of what's happening around. It takes a minute to piece together the questions, the propositions, and then he nods agreement, shaking his head, rising. "I'll take first watch. There's a spell I can cast— An extra precaution against approach. It'll alert us all if anything breaks the barrier." Alarm; he'll cast Alarm, settle in for his watch, then - hopefully - sleep soundly.
He's very tired, he's realizing.
And he's gazing at Faolan again. There's an upward tick of his lip, a smile both apologetic and appreciative, and he Messages: [ That was skillful work with the blade, Faolan. A flaming scimitar? That's very good. ]
And: [ We all have quite some way to go, but I believe we owe you a good deal for your talk on teamwork. There wasn't a single push this time; that's a start, yes? ]
Once the fire has been doused and the bodies removes, Dima is going to cast Alarm, encompassing the room and the hall leading to it. If anything crosses the line, the sound of a hand bell will fill their room.
<.>
Faolan helps this process with Control Flames, extinguishing the wardrobe's fire with a motion that almost...mimics. What Dima did only yesterday.
He doesn't respond to the messages, but as he watches Sen and Rin curl up together in a corner - Sen somewhat better after a healing spell sent his way by Faolan - he thinks...
He thinks.
And he glances at Dmitri.
And after a moment: [ I'll sit up with you. ]
Faolan positions himself on the floor ten feet from the beginning of the hallway, his back to the wall, deaf to any arguments from Dmitri. After a hesitation, he extends a hand and - with tired amusement:
[ For stealth? ]
<.>
He does try, at first, to insist that Faolan sleep. He's been wounded; he'll need his rest to heal, and to regain his magic.
But it'd be a little easier to keep watch, wouldn't it, with Fae beside him? (It'd be easier to hold the knowledge, the sensations he's just gleaned. It'd be easier not to fall into wondering just what he's done, and what all of this means.)
And of course. And of course, Dima would like very much to sit beside this man.
So he ceases protestation with the sight of Faolan's hand. So he smiles, tired, and settles in beside the man, clasping his hand, not over-tight, but showing no sign of release.
[ For stealth. ]
And.
[ Thank you, Faolan. ]
<.>
The "night" passes uneventfully; Dima and Fae are able to prepare their spells while they sit up; they spend the rest of the watch talking with Dima's Message cantrip. Eventually they trade off with Sen and Rin, and though Fae doesn't touch him, he lies close to Dima while he sleeps. Near enough to give the impression he's protecting the man.
As they swap, Sen will find the chest still open at the foot of the bed. Touching the contents summons nothing further, and within it he finds:
- Four potions of healing
- a chain shirt
- a mess kit
- a bullseye lantern
- a set of thieves' tools
- a spellbook with a yellow leather cover, containing the following mage spells:
1st level: disguise self, identify, mage armor, magic missile, protection from evil and good
2nd level: darkvision, hold person, invisibility, magic weapon
Sen argues this last should go to Dima as spoils of victory; Dima has enough time to prepare spells from this list, if he chooses.
Seven or eight hours pass; the party is back to full health, full spell slots, has eaten, and is ready to continue searching for whatever is lurking in the bowels of the house's dungeon.
Between sleeping and waking, Dima hears a voice speaking to him, but the message is unclear. He has a strong urge, near-obsessive, to grab hold of the raven totem when he wakes.
What would everyone like to do?
<.>