Agents of the Darklands, Part 2: In Company of Forgotten Evils

Game Master thunderbeard

Going to be out most of the day/night. Will try to post a little later

1d20 + 34 ⇒ (15) + 34 = 49 Perception

"Incoming, from below us" Dris says as he takes the air.

Meredian takes to the air.

"He was right. Burrowing horrible things. "

Illia- grabs werewolf buddy if he's still here and takes flight as well.

Did you bring the werewolf? He doesn't know the area, but I could see Illia- being fond of kidnapping.

Inubrix's form begins to shift, the outer veneer peeling like the skin of a molting snake before melting back in to its swelling form, revealing the perfect order of scuttling diminutive constructs within. Though it would appear chaotic to the imperceptive, each one moves from appointed place to appointed place to effect the desired change even as new constructs marched forth from a glowing magical core, itself constructed of smaller constructs.

In the end, brief though the movement had been, Inubrix now stood thirty-two feet tall. Each of its four arms ended in what looked to be masterfully-sculpted pincers.

Hug Seeker Illia-: He is fluffy.... And we have the perfect excuse to hug him!

Angel Memories Illia-: No, bad Illia-! Kidnapping is wrong.

Grandiose Strategist Illia-: We should maintain good relations with the werewolves, they might be useful. The more troops, the greater the bloodshed in battle!

Dragons Are Cool Illia-: Sorry what? I was wondering when Anaxian'll get that quote to us. Also, envisioning Anaxian alive again.

MWHAHAHAHAHA Illia-: Yes, bring the frightened pup! But then leave him on the ground as bait, MWAHAHAHAHAHA!

We're sorry, but Illia- is currently experiencing technical difficulties.

Inubrix attack roll: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (17) + 19 = 36
Damage: 12d6 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (5, 2, 3, 4, 2, 4, 4, 3, 1, 4, 4, 5) + 5 + 2 = 48

@Inubrix: You can only actually ready a standard action attack, not a full-attack, so you get one hit in.

As Anaxian pads away, and the others lift off into the air, Inubrix stands his ground. Ten feet in front of him, a patch of something white bursts out of the ground, leaving no ripple in the blighted soil; in a matter of some seconds, a gigantic, shaggy mastodon has pulled itself into view. The creature stands over twenty feet tall, its hide a diseased white, covered in scratches, tears, and smudges of the same red, blighted and cracked dirt that make up the surrounding countryside. Its tusks stretch over ten feet long, its trunk the size of a horse, clutching a tiny jewelled staff, its pupil-less eyes like pewter saucers. As Inubrix smacks it hard across the face, and it steps back, blinking in confusion, realizing that it faces a creature that somehow towers over it.

"Wiz— er... Golem? Elemental of steel? Plague of... locusts?" the mastodon asks, in a deep and rumbling voice, speaking heavily-accented common. "Who are you, and why do you... trespass? In this sacred space, er... speak? Or, die? If... you can die?"

And then the huge, pale mastodon notices Illia- and Drisquar overhead, and calls out "Ah! No angelic horde will set foot in the Circle of Hierophants, this I swear!" in the same deep, rumbling voice, seemingly regaining a bit of composure.

yeah the attack routine was for my bookkeeping so i didnt have to add things each time. I should have been more clear and/or rolled but i wasnt sure what was going to happen.

sense motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

"Calculated Response: Accuracy of terms regarding this one's bodily composition reaches an apex of fifty percent. However, probability of angelic horde in present visual range remains below five percent. To rebut the charge of trespass, would you be open to parley?"

No worries, I figure you just sort of bopped the elephant on the head as it popped out of the ground. This is... a pretty comical fight tbh.

Also, enemies might have to roll Linguistics to understand Inubrix :D

"Yeah, even if wanted to smite you and all, two angels really doesn't count as a horde. We're just here to talk."

haha that sounds fine with me haha. I normally wouldnt open with hostilities but i figure approaching as it did in such proximity was either to attack or imtimidate, so a bop seemed to be fine to open with haha.

Sense Motive 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (10) + 23 = 33

Religion 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

Meridian chimes in

"What they mean is that we're not angles and we're not really here to fight. We're probably on the same side. If you'd prefer to take your real form we can talk it out first. Also, we're not adverse to undead in this group, so don't worry about that part. What's your name anyway?"

Sense Motive 1d20+23

Religion 1d20+11

Meridian chimes in

"What they mean is that we're not angles and we're not really here to fight. We're probably on the same side. If you'd prefer to take your real form we can talk it out first. Also, we're not adverse to undead in this group, so don't worry about that part. What's your name anyway?"

Damn Autocorrect. Make that "Angles."

Damn Autocorrect. Make that "Angles."

that's acute. Sounds like your phone is being obtuse.

Meredian Adriatnaic wrote:

Damn Autocorrect. Make that "Angles."

that's acute. Sounds like your phone is being obtuse.

Dammit. A-N-G-E-L-S.

Meredian Adriatnaic wrote:

Damn Autocorrect. Make that "Angles."

that's acute. Sounds like your phone is being obtuse.

Eh, Meridian got it right eventually.

Drow are bad spellers. That's why they spend so much time using sign language.

Anaxian takes a long look at the creature from his hiding place in the trees trying to suss out it's nature.

Any idea what kind of undead, or what kind of transformation?

Anaxian: It's a polymorph effect.

Enemy Sense Motive: 1d20 + 32 ⇒ (5) + 32 = 37

"Real form?" The mastodon scoffs, a sound somewhere between a trumpet and a hacksaw. "This is the Forest of Stones. There are no 'forms' here, only death. I am Lengwar, the Trumpeter—and I sense no falsehood from your words or diabolism from your form, so I give you this one rare chance to leave this the Circle of Hierophants with your... lives? If you live?... intact."

"Counterpoint: The honorific "Heirophant", in most cultures, frequently suggests innate wisdom. That you would attempt to intimidate ones such as we suggests a lack thereof. Follow-on Questioning: Are you not a Heirophant? Should we direct our discourse to your superiors?"

"The Circle of Hierophants is the oldest and holiest site in all of Sarkoris, in the center of which you now stand, defiling it with your strange and unnatural presence," the Mastodon replies. "But I have already delivered my message. Threatening me would be pointless, as it is the others on their way who will do you real harm."

"The Circle of Hierophants is the oldest and holiest site in all of Sarkoris, in the center of which you now stand, defiling it with your strange and unnatural presence," the Mastodon replies. "But I have already delivered my message. Threatening me would be pointless, as it is the others on their way who will do you real harm."

After chuckling at Inubrix's inadvertent slight she continues completely unphased by the Hierophants threat.

"We're not actually here to threaten anyone. We're actually allies, so just relax. We're just looking for a very old shadow Druid. We're friends of her friends. What was the name?[\b] Meredian says the latter to herself.

Turning over her shoulder. [b]"Anaxian what was... Oh. Where did he get off to? No matter. Do any of you remember the name of he Druid we're looking for?"

"Umm...."

Pop.

Pop.

"Diamanda!"

If you just envisioned Crimson facepalming herself, you're welcome.

I am present. Anaxian's mind-voice said dryly to his companions.

"Umm...."

Pop.

Pop.

"Diamanda!"

If you just envisioned Crimson facepalming herself, you're welcome.

Love it.

"That was it. Diamanda. Sound familiar?"

"Clarification: This one issued no threats."

"Retort: To classify things as 'natural' or 'unnatural' is unnecessarily vague. As the monkey uses the stick to pierce the anthill, as the magpie uses the shiny refuse of others, so too do we use the tools available to us. Hypothesis: The metallic nature, or lack thereof, is not an effective indicator of what can and cannot be classified as natural. Rhetorical Question: Does metal not appear in nature? Did the jewels in your tusks apparate of their own accord?"

I love how, despite their many ranks in diplomacy, this party generally doesn't bother to use it—as a tactic *as well* as a skill.

"There are no shadow druids here," the mastodon replies. "The name 'Diamanda' is unfamiliar to me; perhaps the lore masters know more..." and he pauses, as though in thought, before remembering to add "...as they will no doubt neglect to share, when they arrive soon at this circle to end your defiling presence."

To Inubrix, he replies, "This forest is sacred. The very worked metal of your body is unnatural, anathema to the tenets of the Green Faith." And he looks upwards. "This forest is also dead. The life and blood of your companions likewise defiles it."

"Retort: The worked gems in your false tusks must surely likewise defile this area. Related Note: undeath is, in most cultures, considered unnatural as well, an abomination born of magic and/or supernatural influence. How can one such as yourself be a follower of a green faith while your existence itself is a contradiction to all that is natural? And," Inubrix adds, looking around, "This area is not green."

Slightly irritated,

"I'm not clear what part of this you're not understanding, but I'll state it again for good measure. If we intended to cause this place harm we'd have done it already. This includes, but is not limited to grinding your undead body into powder."

Deep breath. Then continuing in a less irritated tone.

"When do you're lore masters arrive? Shouldn't you call them or something? Go on. We'll wait. It sounds like they might be the only useful creatures here. Alternately you can save them the trouble and attempt to offer something useful so we can be on our way. "

"I do not care for your assessment of our faith," the mastodon replies to Inubrix, growing a bit less afraid of the metal monster every time he hears it talk. "Or for your semantics, or your anthropology. Our faith has simply evolved."

And to Meredian, "I do not think you understand, elf. Others have already been called. When they arrive, you will die. Until that time, I suppose am willing to talk."

"I do not care for your assessment of our faith," the mastodon replies to Inubrix, growing a bit less afraid of the metal monster every time he hears it talk. "Or for your semantics, or your anthropology. Our faith has simply evolved."

And to Meredian, "I do not think you understand, elf. Others have already been called. When they arrive, you will die. Until that time, I suppose am willing to talk."

"You'd be surprised how often I've heard that." Meredian says checking her nail beds

Pointing at Inubrix, "As for that, I believe his statement was more of a question. Best I can tell his mind is a bit like a Golem. Emotion less calculation based on available information. If you'd like to clarify feel free. "

Ignoring the discussion regarding his mind, Inubrix replies, "Statement: When things evolve, so too should the names. Inquiry: How long until your superiors arrive? I believe this dialogue has reached its... natural end."

Ignoring the discussion regarding his mind, Inubrix replies, "Statement: When things evolve, so too should the names. Inquiry: How long until your superiors arrive? I believe this dialogue has reached its... natural end."

Turning to Inubrix suddenly,

"Was that a joke? Did you just tell a joke?"

Turning to 1d4 ⇒ 2 Illia over her left, "Did he just tell a joke? I think he told a joke."

"Someone write this down for posterity.

When Meredian was making the request of Illia, Illia's armor Monty was casting shield of faith on Illia-, while Illia twirled Reapy and whistled "inconspicuously".

(•_•) / ( •_•)>⌐■-■ / (⌐■_■) yeeeeaaahhh!!!

CSI: Darklands, folks

The mastodon attempts to shrug. It looks ungainly. "Soon, perhaps," it replies.

Still here, listening. Will post tomorrow, as I need to head to bed shortly

Bah, can't sleep, quick post now, more tomorrow.1d20 + 34 ⇒ (15) + 34 = 49 Perception

From his vantage point in the air, Dris scans the area for any signs of these so called Hierophants.

Weirdly, that only gives you a maximum perception range of around 500 feet. (Lower if they're stealthy, which they happen to be, though the broad daylight helps)

Anaxian padded back toward the rest of the group, walking right up to the mastadon and eyeing it for a moment.

"Not soon enough..." he rumbled, his presence reaching into the Mastadon's soul-memory and awakening a prey animal's instinctive, long-dormant fear of an apex predator.

Aura of Cowardice removes Fear Immunity.

Intimidate to Demoralize: 1d20 + 28 ⇒ (8) + 28 = 36

Shaken creatures get a -2 penalty to Saves...

Do you guys want to try to reason with the thing more, or just wait until its "backup" arrives?

While the talking was commencing, Anaxian had not been idle.

Casting Deathwine, and drinking a potion of Cure Critical Wounds to give my next Necromancy effect a +3 caster level

Lamarchand is taking 10 on UMD to cast Arcane Concordance from a wand.

Casting Improved Invisibility on myself, then Arcane Mark on it with Spectral Hand to check it's spell resistance. My hope is that it won't notice this because it is a non-hostile action. If neeccessary I'll use my previous stealth roll, +20 for invisibility.

Then Anaxian is casting Extended, Heightened Command Undead on the Mastadon (cast as a 6th level spell, Extended by Arcane Concordance). DC 29 will save negates.

If Arcane Mark discovers spell resistance, I'll use my Peircing Metamagic Rod and a Dweomer's Essence to give myself +10 to the spell penetration roll.

Let's see what we're really up against.

Spell Penetration (if needed): 1d20 + 12 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 12 + 10 = 33

Anaxian's Spectral Hand winks out of existence ten feet away from the mastodon, which fails to notice.

Knowledge Arcana: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (14) + 26 = 40

Knowledge Nature: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (19) + 15 = 34

Anaxian eyeballed the Mastadon for a moment longer and decided that if he couldn't have it, no one could.

Give me a bit, I have to figure out how all this is going to work. It's a short action, but it's complicated, rules-wise.

Uh, how I have been waiting for this moment. Antimagic fields are b&#+~!**, but they can be fun if you prepare for them ahead of time.

Anaxian lifted into the air and flew up about a hundred feet. Then he pulled out a bag from his pouch. It was full of small lead balls. He cast True Strike on himself from a wand, and then dumped the bag out directly over the Mastadon.

There are 5 lead spheres in the pouch. They are under the effect of a Shrink Object spell (like the Magic Circle he wears as a ring). Each one weighs about 3.5 pounds while shrunk.

When they hit the Antimagic area, they return to full size, which is a roughly 4' diameter lead sphere (20 cubic feet by volume), each one weighing about 14,000 pounds.

GM, how would you like to handle this? Improvised Ranged weapon attack roll?

Nice plan! But uh... falling objects got nerved a ton in PF...

As falling objects, Anaxian's spheres are effectively huge objects. This gives them 6d6 falling damage each. However, they only pick up their 14,000-lb momentum upon hitting the antimagic field, 10' above the mastodon, halving their damage to 3d6.

Not going to bother making attack rolls, the thing's touch AC is 7...

GM EDIT: Forgot that falling damage technically goes through DR (it's an edge case, but I'll rule RAW "Damage Reduction does not apply to Touch Attacks" over RAI because rule of cool)

Damage : 15d6 ⇒ (4, 4, 3, 1, 2, 4, 6, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 4, 3, 3) = 57

The huge metal spheres, each nearly as large as the mastodon, bounce off the mastodon as they collide with it. Though the force is not enough to crush the creature, there are the sounds of a few bones cracky, and as the creature rolls the last ball off its back, it looked battered and slightly broken. Lengwar also seems... startled, by the sudden rain of lead, and certainly annoyed. "More metal?" the creature calls out, in a tone that may or may not be expressing anger (as it's sort of hard to tell, coming from an undead elephant). "What was that supposed to achieve? Now it will require even more effort to clean up your mess, once you are dead."

And while it does not attack, or flee, the mastodon does sink back into the ground, low enough that only its eyes, ears, trunk, and part of its head remain visible.

"Oh, you're leaving? I was looking forward to slicing you into tiny pieces."

Any chance I could get an attack in before it sinks? Mayhap via my split second ability? I will roll off initiative if that would help. 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (4) + 15 = 19 Initiative

"Huuuh. We're worse at this whole coming in peace thing than I thought."

Probably a good time for initiave.

Illia- would probably be surprised by the attack, as Anaxian didn't inform everyone he was about to attack.