DM Barcas - Skull & Shackles: Freedom of the Sea (Inactive)

Game Master Isaac Duplechain

With pirates, slavers, and Cheliax prowling the seas, there are some who still appreciate - and fight for - the freedom of the sea.


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The small group leaves the camp behind them as they trudge through the trees. The vibrancy of the jungle threatens to overwhelm them, especially after so long on the sea. With nothing but the ship and sky to see for unending periods, the vivid colors seem surreal; the greens of the trees, the whites of the sands, the colors of the tropical fruits all seem soaked in color. The smell of the wet soil under their feet is as far as the sweat and the salt air as they can get. The cacaphony is almost overwhelming - buzzing of insects, singing of birds, and the wind through the trees all seem extraordinarily loud. The sticky, steamy mist clings to them thanks to the warm air, which is profoundly different than the frigid cold out on the sea. It is still winter, but this island would likely be oppressively hot during the summer.

The group follows a narrow pathway through the jungle towards the great rock. It is barely enough for them to walk in single file. The paths don't seem to be manmade, but rather created by animals. Thick undergrowth covers the jungle floor outside the narrow avenues, while the canopy above blocks most of the sunlight from above. If they move off the path, it will be quite easy to become lost. The path winds westward, but they grow closer to the granite outcropping. Vrunyar stops the group several times to pick out various plants, flowers, and fruits. Ollivor is able to help by knowing what might be edible and what might be poisonous, while Vrunyar is able to reverse-engineer some of the alchemical components. John's lengthy travels have exposed him to enough flora and fauna that he contributes several times by pointing out what to take. By the time they get to the base of the outcropping - which takes well over an hour despite only being a quarter mile or so - they've all had some fruits to eat and Vrunyar has enough plants to grind and experiment with.

The six explorers stand at the base of the massive rock, which looms above them. Fortunately, the angle is not insurmountably difficult to climb, and there are more than enough ferns and vegetation growing off the lower side to give them a helping hand. The climb is arduous, even with these advantages. John has particular trouble making it up, as his peg leg provides little help in climbing; Wyn and Thorn take turns giving him a hand to stabilize himself as they all scale the slope. After a while, John adapts to not using his leg to climb and solely uses his powerful arms and his remaining leg to pull himself upwards. After another half-hour, the group reaches the summit. Breathing heavily and sweating, they look out at the island laid in front of them.

The verdant island laid before them glitters vividly, as an emerald in a sapphire sea. The island is dominated by high cliffs on the west side that rise up far more sharply than the outcropping they currently stand on. The low valley between the fist and the cliffs are filled with miles of jungle. A small beach on the north side (C3) features a small gathering of collapsed huts made of mud. Even from this distance, they can tell it has been uninhabited for many years. A manmade path leads away from the shore into the swampy mire to the south (C4). From above, they can tell that a salt river oozes through the swamp. A wide swath of empty area around the river suggests that its banks have turned to a dangerous quicksand bog. Further to the south, (C5), a massive tree stands out from the others, with its huge canopy covering an extraordinary area.

Once past this thick swampy jungle, the island opens up into a grassy slope (C6) on the east side of the heavily-forested cliffs. A pathway - manmade, it appears - exits the jungle and winds over the grassy area. A field of crops (C7) lays fallow and overgrown in the shadow of the cliffs near the southern edge of the island. The pathway forks north of the tilled field, with one side leading to the cliffside. The exact path of the pathway is unclear, as the cliffs loom far above even the fist. A well-built wooden stockade peeks over the edge of the cliff (C8).

An old beacon fire sits atop the summit of the fist a few hundred feet away. It is some ten feet across and consists of trees, branches, and old ship's timbers - but appears to have never been lit. The group heads over to investigate. Thorn finds a canvas-wrapped package tucked into the base of the beacon. He unwraps it, finding a store of six torches and a pair of tindertwigs inside. There is no sign of the likely castaways who set up the fire.

Please make a DC 11 Will save or be dazzled (-1 to Perception and attack rolls) by the overwhelming assault on the senses for one hour. Here is a map of the island. You are all at C2.


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Will: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

Doran squints his eyes against the dazzle of the sea and the noisy, vibrant life of the jungle, and manages to keep his head clear. He studies the island's features with care, considering what threats and advantages each might pose, all while eating an odd fruit with a fuzzy, prickly outside, white, juicy flesh, and glittering black seeds in the shape of a teardrop. Nice to chew on something that's not been in a barrel for months. Now if we can just survive the place.

He says to his companions, "Well, as we've said, what we really want to do here is find our shipmates, and hope we turn up good sources of food and water while we're at it. Since we have no idea what these vudu things are, or where they'd be, we should probably be systematic in exploring the place. So I'm for starting at that abandoned-looking village on the north side (C3) and seeing what we turn up, then southwest from there. It might be good to get up into that big tree before we head into the area that's been farmed, but I wouldn't mind avoiding that swampy spot. Lots of bad likely to be in there, and nothing good - unless some of Vrunyar's plants are there, I suppose."


Male Halfling Bard

Ollivor swats lightly as one insect lands on his skin, perhaps trying to have a bit of cook for lunch. Ollivor can only imagine how many bugs there would be in summer, but over all being off the ship is a welcome experience. I'd almost forgotten these colors existed.

He grins at the finds of some fruits and foodstuffs. While others might be surprised to hear it, sometimes a cook gets almost tired of making the same old fare as the crew does eating it. Pineapples and the like are a true treasure in this situation though he prefers the sweet berries.

Will save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

When they get to the fire, he looks at the others, "Think we might find some clues in the old huts?"


Will save: 1d20 ⇒ 19

The sight before them causes Wyn's present-since-the-morning scowl to fade. If there weren't man-eating monsters here, I might just call it quits right here and stay put.

That threat, however, snaps her out of the sense of awe, at least enough to focus on the conversation. When Doran and Ollivor both suggest starting with the huts, she nods agreement.


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

”It’s my fault, Wyn,” the dwarf says, probably a little too loudly. ”It’s not only good to be on land, it’s good to be away from the weight...of people listening. Probably making me talk too much. But I’ll be quiet First Mate Doran.” Vrunyar adds with a smile as they continue into the jungle. He forgot how loud birds can be. He scans the ground and eye-level areas for any plant he might recognize.

untrained knowledge (nature) for plant ID: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

Hooray 1000 posts! Just to be clear he’s using the title First Mate out of respect for Doran’s position. Not in any sarcastic or ironic way. I think the highest an untrained knowledge check can be is 10, so I can't complain about that roll.


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

Will save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Liberty's Edge

Male Human (Taldan) Ranger (Freebooter / Corsair) 4 / Bloodrager (Elemental (Aquatic)) 1 / AC 17/11/16 / HP 47/47 / F +9 R +5 W +3 (+2 vs charm and compulsion) / Init. +1 (+2 at Sea) / Perc. +10 (+2 at Sea) / Sense Motive +10

Sweat trickled down John's spine, caking his rough-spun linen shirt to his back. The weeks underway had been harsh to John's clothing. Pitch and sweat had stained the garment from its normal off white to something more of a light brown. Still, the man loved the shirt, if for no other reason than the fact that Alima had sewn it herself during the late hours in front of their families hearth. This was the third shirt that Alima had made for her husband. The first two had been experiments in the best sense of the word. That wasn't to say that she was not willing, just unskilled with a needle at first. Regardless, they had been poor and even something as simple a new shirt was often a luxury that could not be afforded. Besides, John had suspected that after years of serving as a pleasure slave, something as intimate as sewing her husband a new shirt was something that Alima had treasured. It had been for her an act of love. A concrete and real expression of her devotion to him. Fingering the fraying edge of the shirt John smiled. He didn't care that one sleeve was slightly longer than the other or the stitches weren't always perfect. It had been a gift. That was enough.

Topping the stone outcropping, John looked down into the haze of green before him. Below him the colors seemed to merge together. He saw a flash of blue and gold in the foliage and the trilling of a macaw. He heard the buzzing of insects and the oppressive humidity of the island. It all seemed to close in on him, blurring together in shades of green like the rich oil painting John had once seen hanging in Lord Havershaw's stateroom.

Swatting at fly the size of his thumbnail, John shook the beads of sweat from his eyes. He wished he had a bandana like Crimsons to wrap around his hair to keep the sweat infused locks out of his eyes. Stalking his way around the edge of the outcropping, John looks out over the island of green in a sea of blue. Though the climb had only taken half an hour, the time seemed to have passed much longer. Standing atop the rock, John realized that this was the highest he had been in years. Not that the stone rock was of a particular size, but that after years at sea, the highest one could rise was the tallest mast. It felt odd, yet also refreshing. He had no idea what dangers lurked in this island, except for the briefest of inklings of what the mysterious "Vudu's" might be, but standing on the stone, with the wind at his back, John felt alive. He felt it in the same way he had felt in the galley of the Empty Lighthouse when he had saved Ollivor and during the assault aboard the Hellsmouth. There was something inside of John that cried out for freedom, to be his own master, to look out on the wide and deep ocean, pick a direction and go. To live in the moment and follow his own code and stand up for his beliefs.

Around him the others scouted the site and John noted with interest as Thorn found a sack of torches and tindertwigs near the prestaged bonfire. Someone had been stranded on the island for some time and had made plans to be rescued, that much was clear. Turning to the others, John nodded at Doran's suggestion. I agree Doran, we might find some clues about this island. The huts could serve as a shelter of sorts if nothing else. Then, I think we should cut over to that large tree. We can see about climbing it and get another fix of the area. With it's size it should be easy to pick out even inside of the jungle. What interests me however is the stockade on the far end of the island. That is a defensive structure. Whoever built it must have been intending to be attacked. Scratching his red beard in thought, John shruged. There's a mystery here, that much is clear. Hopefully we can find some answers at the village.

Walking over to the canvas bag, John took out his dagger and began cutting it into long strips. Despite the humidity the canvas was still in good shape, but John was no expert at how long the humidity of the island would break down good cloth. No more than two or three years, but that was only a guess. Handing out one torch to each of the members of the scouting group, John then distributed the bits of cloth before tying it around his head in a makeshift sweatband to keep his long hair out of his eyes. Finishing the task, John took a quick sip of his water before handing it around to the others. Keeping well hydrated in hot conditions was essential. After each had taken a quick drink, John shrugged his pack onto his wide shoulders and turned towards the village. Right then, lets move before we lose too much more sun. I'll take point. The man said with a finality before setting off down the rock embankment towards the village.

_________________________________
Will save vs DC11 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7


Male Elf Barbarian (Urban Barbarian) 2 / Fighter (Archer) 2 /Sorcerer (Wildblood=Sage Cross Blood=Aquatic) | HP 35/35 | AC:16 T:14 FL:12 | CMD 20 | F:+7 R:+4 W:+2 | Init +4 Perception:+8

Thorn kept watch from behind the group and they entered the lush jungle. The breeze coming from the sea was quickly replaced with a heavy and stagnant air pressing down on his wrecked and tired body. Sweat poured out of Thorn as he was not use to this much heat.

Will save: 1d20 ⇒ 13

Although the heat and humidity were weighing him down the images of his slain family members still flashed through his mind to drive him through the extreme conditions. Thorn could not help but to take in all the beauty of the jungle and comparing the vast difference in color here and the cold grays, blues and white back home.

Once the group finally broke into a clearing Thorn could see a large rock protruding up from the jungle. Thorn helped Wyn to carry John to the top but he soon managed away to climb on his own. Once reaching the top of the rock Thorn quickly scanned the horizon taking in all of the land marks and listening to the group decide on a plan of action. Thorn began searching the rock and found a small canvas wrap near the base of the beacon. Thorn slowly unrolled the canvas to discover six torches and pair of tinder twigs. Thorn called out to the group "Erastil's blessing! Hey, I found some torches." Before Thorn knew it John had began passing out the torches to the party and marched off in the direction of the large tree.

Thorn secured the remaining torch to his quiver of arrows just in case it was needed later once the sun set and the night sky fell upon them. With the sun slowly setting and the light of day fading away, Thorn had had no problems so far with the vague light barely penetrating the dense jungle canopy. Thorn allowed John to lead on before following the rest of the party towards the large tree.


The trek from the summit to the abandoned village does not take long. The rock slopes steeply at parts, but they make it to the base of the fist quickly and skirt along the edge of the jungle to the north coastline. Waves crash against the cliffs of the coast, spraying them with surf occasionally. Some of the waves crest over the short distance, rushing over their feet on the rocky edge. The sun hangs overhead, still on the east side and not yet to mid-day. They spot the fishing village from a ways off. The former inhabitants - many years ago, it seems - carved a narrow stairway down the short cliffside. The rotting remnants of a dock sticks out of the water, with hardly more than its barnacle-covered legs and a few planks left intact.

As they grow closer, it seems that the mud huts were once made of wood. Several of them have collapsed and grown covered in brine and mud. A hat lays discarded in the muddy ground - Sandara's tricorne hat! Recent-looking paths, likely the dragged unconscious bodies of the stolen sailors, extend from the carved stairs through the empty village. The group follows the path, looking for where it may lead. It snakes by the one somewhat intact building with an actual door.

Wynifrid and John, leading the way, are still a good thirty feet from the door of the intact wooden structure when three figures shamble out of the threshold. The creatures twitch and jerk as they walk unnaturally. They appear to be waterlogged corpses with long-rotted clothing - both of them men wearing what remains of military garb. Each has a gleaming shell behind its head, with tentacles and tendrils extending from each into the the skull through the ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. Twitching and shaking, the pair of walking dead break into a run and charge at the group.

Rolls:

Doran 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14
John 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Ollivor 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Thorn 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Vrunyar 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Vudu 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Wynifrid 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

INITIATIVE
20 Vudu
14 Doran
11 Wynifrid
6 John
6 Ollivor
6 Thorn
3 Vrunyar

Knowledge: Dungeoneering (DC 17, Trained Only) or Profession: Sailor (DC 22):
The creatures called vudu are actually an aberration known as incutilis. They appear to be relatively large cephalopods, but they can latch onto the skulls of their victims and use their bodies as vessels.

The vudu are two separate creatures: the creature atop the head, which have 18 hit points, AC 21, and saves of +1F/+3R/+5W; and the body, which has 22 hit points, AC 13, saves of +1F/+0R/+4W, and DR 5/slashing.

Vudu 1: FRA - Charge 30', Slam vs. John (AC 16) 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
Tentacles vs. John (AC 16) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

The first of the two vudu shambles and shakes over to John, who is still pulling out his sword. It reaches out and grabs him by the wrist, trying to simply slam its weight against the sailor. John is able to push back, keeping its distance. The shell latched to the back of the corpse's skull - which John can clearly see holds a squid-like cephalopod - spits out more tentacles. The alien thing lashes at him with its tentacles, trying to latch onto him. He desperately tries to keep it from getting hold of him, having seen what it has done to the walking corpse it is using as a host.

Vudu 2: FRA - Charge 30', Slam vs. Wynifrid (AC 12) 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
> Damage 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Tentacles vs. Wynifried (AC 12) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
> Damage 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
> Grab (CMD 15) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29 (Success)

The other one follows quickly behind, hitting Wyn with a huge amount of force. She feels the impact as she is driven backwards, still trying to get a weapon out. The octopus-like creature inside the shell reaches out with its tentacles, grabbing her around the neck. She can feel it squeezing as she gets her fingers between its wet, rubbery flesh and her own throat. She gasps for air as it tightens its horrible tentacled grip, even as the animated body it controls continues to slam its weight into her.

Vudu 1: 18/18 hp (head), 22/22 hp (body), -2 AC (charging)
Vudu 2: 18/18 hp (head), 22/22 hp (body), -4 AC (charging, grappling Wyn)

Everybody is up!


Barcas, just FYI my CMD vs grapple is 20 (and my base CMD is 17--bonus vs grapple is from favored class ability and Improved Grapple)--obviously he succeeded anyway with a 20, but just FYI.

Round 1
HP 17/27
AC 12 | CMD 17 (18 vs trip and steal; 20 vs disarm and grapple; 21 vs dirty trick)
Save F:+5 R:+4 W:+0

SAAttempt to break grapple
CMB + Improved Grapple: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 5 + 2 = 14
I'm going to assume that misses

Caught off guard from trying to examine the ground to see where Quinn and Crimson might have been dragged, Wyn gasps, struggling as the tentacles slowly begin to strangle her. Oddly, she flashes back to a time in the pub, when Old Stumpy Rottooth caught her in a headlock, and for a moment she thought she was going to be killed for throwing a beer on a raucous customer's face. This was far more a deadly moment, but a wry, distant voice in the back of her mind observes, at least this corpse doesn't smell as bad as Stumpy.

Unfortunately, the creature had superior leverage and she quickly exhausted herself from trying to break loose.


Male Halfling Bard

Ollivor notes the drag marks, "Someone pulled Sandara away? We best be..." And then comes a bizarre attack that throws him off.
Profession Sailor 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Round 1
"What the hell are those things?" He asks, backing up if there's room and firing bolts of light at the thing grabbing Wyn's face, "Hang on, Wyn!"
5 step then, Magic Missile, two bolts on same target...dmg is 2d4 + 2 ⇒ (1, 1) + 2 = 4


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Round 1, Initiative 14
HP 22/22 | AC:17 F:15 T:13 | Saves F:+3 R:+8 W:+3

MA: Move into flank position
SA: Attack cephalopod holding Wyn

Dagger attack, flanking: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 7 + 2 = 29 Critical threat
Dagger damage (sneak attack): 1d3 + 2d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + (7, 4) + 1 = 15

Dagger attack, flanking: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 6 + 2 = 13 Does not confirm.
Dagger damage (sneak attack): 1d3 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Doran is startled by the speed with which the creatures launch their attack, and even more by their strangeness as they draw close. They look like some sort of undead, but being ridden by a nasty, little squid rider - and one's got Wyn!

"Hang on, Wyn. I'll get that thing off you!" cries Doran as he moves around the creature attacking the barmaid turned adventurer. He aims one, carefully-aimed strike at what appears to be some sort of eye on the thing, cutting it deeply.

Liberty's Edge

Male Human (Taldan) Ranger (Freebooter / Corsair) 4 / Bloodrager (Elemental (Aquatic)) 1 / AC 17/11/16 / HP 47/47 / F +9 R +5 W +3 (+2 vs charm and compulsion) / Init. +1 (+2 at Sea) / Perc. +10 (+2 at Sea) / Sense Motive +10

Round 1, Initiative 6
hp 17/29; AC 19/13/18 CMD 20; +6F/+4R/+3W (+1 vs charm and compulsion)

Profession (sailor) 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
MA: Freebooters Bane vs Vudu 2 (Untyped +1 to hit/damage)
SA: Attack Defensively Vudu 1 vs AC 19 (-4 to hit, +2 to AC/CMD) 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
 
 
 
Absalom, Summer, 4709 AR
::"And by the time we got there, the whole village was gone!" Sy Thomerson slurred, taking another long sip of his grog before slamming it to the table with a slosh. Across the table John shook his head in disbelief. The portcall in Absalom was something the crew of the Righteous Eagle had been eagerly looking forward to for months. Though it wasn't referred to as such, the crew had known that the Absalom portcall was Lord Havershaw rewarding the crew for a good patrol. The crew loved the captain and the captain looked out for his crew.::

::Across the smoky bar, John took another sip and regarded Master Chief Thomerson. The man was well into his cups and had started telling sea stories, each one more impressive, or some might say though not to the Master Chief's face, more embellished as the night had gone one. One fact that could not be disputed was the Master Chief's record. The man had earned two blood stripes and a rampant order of the eagle, he had sailed the steaming seas for twenty years and when he told you it was about to blow, you dammed well battened down the hatches. The running joke was that Thomerson had more seawater in his veins than blood.::

::Taking another sip of the lime soaked grog, John nodded again coaxing more of the story from the grizzled man. "So what happened next?" John asked the man while waiving to the waitress for another round. Running a gnarled hand that was missing its right pinky through his shock of low cut hair, Master Chief Tomerson shook his head. "Well like I said, we thought some slaver outta the south was hitting our villages. Ships would pull in to unload freight into some remote coastal village. The stories had been trickling back for a while and the high command at Almas wanted us to find whoever was taking our people and show them some justice. So anyway, we get word from the Argent Beacon a lightship that works anchorages. They heard some rumors that another village had gone silent, little place called Loomis. So we sail there. Took us a few days at best speed. When we get there we go ashore, a full company. And just like the stories... everyone was gone. Taking a long sip from the tankard, the old man looks down with a troubled expression for just a moment. But there was one thing that was weird. Something I never could explain. Sure, slavers... thats a likely story. Real ballsy to hit Andoran, but I could buy that. What still bothers me to this day though is when we got there, there were all of these nautilus shells all over the beach. Each one must have been three or four feet wide. They were way above the tide mark and the damnedest thing about them was their coloring. They weren't cold water.. no these things looked like something out of a tropical reef. Shaking his head, the old marine shivered before hiding it with a long pull of his grog. The damnedest thing..
 
 
 
Present..
Backpedaling furiously John Rawkins whipped his boarding ax out from its makeshift sheath at along his silk sash. He slashed to the left with his cutlass and dove backwards as the zombie tried to pummel him with its sheer weight. He placed his weight on his good leg and crossed his axe and cutlass infront of him in an X in order to intercept any attack that might come towards him. Keeping his eyes locked on the zombie, Johns eyes narrowed ...nautilus shells.. three or four feet wide.. John whispered, eyes going wide. Holy Hells! Sy wasn't pulling my leg, their real! John thought, thinking back to that night four years ago. Whipping his axe forward in a warding blow, John mimicked the movements of his opponent. He couldn't allow it to close and Wyn was in trouble. Yelling behind him, John tried to direct the others. I.. I think I know what these things are. Heard about em before. Go for the shells, they are the real danger. I'll keep this one busy, just help Wyn while the thing is vulnerable.
 
___________________________
Vudu 2 is currently grappling Wyn so it's got a -4AC, I put my Freebooters Bane on it so its normal AC of 21 should be down to a 15.


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

Round 1 Initiative 3
HP: 24/24 −5 nonlethal hp, AC 13; T 11, FF 12 | Saves F:+4 R:+3 W:+3
MA: If possible move into a flank position with Doran.

SA: Axe attack on vudu shell/brain

Battleaxe: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
sneak attack: 2d6 ⇒ (6, 5) = 11
precise strike: 1d6 ⇒ 6

As the undead creatures charge, Vrunyar groans knowing that he won’t get to fire his crossbow without putting his companions in danger. The benefit to that is he and Doran will be able to put their combat practice and theory to the test. He pulls out his axe as he approaches the creature that Doran has already attacked.

”Shells! Aye, aye! Hell’s shells!” he bellows acknowledging John’s command. He swings his axe expecting a burst of undead nautical fluid.

Even if the sneak attack & precise strike damage isn't counted, I can't complain about max normal damage.


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Vrunyar - I think Doran and Ollivor already took out the one on Wyn - but you could hit the other one, and I'll come join you to flank, or you could hit the zombie, if it's still up and about if the squidoo is dead.


When Ollivor's magical blasts hit the tentacled thing, already gushing blood from Doran's well-placed knife strike, it squeals a horrible scream. It makes not a sound, but they can all hear it in their minds. It pulls back its tentacles and tendrils from both Wyn and the dead sailor. The corpse collapses as the tendrils release it from perverse puppetry. The cephalopod twitches a few times on the ground but lays still.

Vrunyar follows up with a fatal blow to the latter one, using its attention towards John to get behind it and shove the axe deeply into the squid brain.

Well, that was easy! Initiative over!


Male Halfling Bard

"Wyn, are you alright?" Ollivor asks as the thing falls from her face. The young man's finger tips still flicker with magical energy. While it wasn't the best burst, it came as naturally to him as breathing. He feels disgust for the creatures, concern for his friend, but also that increasingly familiar sense of euphoria that using his magic beyond its basics can bring him.


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Doran steps past the still-twitching corpse and its tentacled master as Wyn pulls its grasping tendrils from her neck. He looks her in the eye - which requires craning his neck a fair bit - and is relieved at what he sees. Rather than the blank-eyed stare of the vudu-men, Wynifrid has the kind-but-ready-to-brawl look in her eye that he has grown to know. "Thank the gods that thing didn't take you over," he says quietly.

Raising his voice a bit, he says, "Well fought, everyone. Vrunyar, do you have a way of patching Wyn up a bit? Then we should take a careful look around, our mates were here, that's sure."

Knives still in hand, Doran moves over to the hut where the two shell-walkers came from and attempts to peer in the open doorway. If it seems unoccupied, he steps inside and investigates the place.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15


Wyn nods at those inquiring after her, clutching at her throat, as she tries to regain her breath. As she begins to breathe normally again, she stomps on the shell of the tentacled creature for good measure.

"Let's..." she coughs, "Let's be sure Quinn and Crimson didn't get all tentacled up. Although it might be a personality improvement for Quinn." Wyn had never forgotten Sandara's terse words with Wyn early on, and while Wyn didn't wish her true harm, she couldn't pretend to like the woman.

She moves to stand in the doorway to watch Doran's back while he investigates.


Male Halfling Bard

"I never found her that bad," Ollivor states. Of course, Ollivor is a young man and pretty women have been known to gain great charity from fellows his age even to the point of stupidity from time to time.


Doran doesn't have to squeeze through the ruined threshold of the building, which has sunk into the mud over the years. He can tell that it was once a temple of Gozreh, god of storms and sea. As he enters, he can see why it did not collapse - the temple is open to the sky and has no roof to weigh down the structure. Roughly carved figures in the wall show Gozreh's feminine aspect merged with the sea and his masculine aspect merged with the clouds above. With hardly more than a glance, he can tell that it has been dozens of years since the place last saw a living soul. A small altar of driftwood and unworked stones, collapsed many years ago, sits in the middle of the temple.

It appears that the vudu - whether that refers to the cephalopod creatures, the corpses that they use, or both - have been using the building as a watchpoint. The drag marks through the mud pass along the temple and move south into the jungle. The pair that waited may have been a vanguard or a rear guard, but they could easily see with patient eyes if any ship moved along the north shore of the island. This is likely where they spotted the ship from. The scent of rotted flesh clings to the walls, likely from years of the shambling corpses being standing watch in its walls.

Doran looks around for anything useful. Nature's powerful claim - wind, rain, and the beating sun - seems at first to have picked the temple clean. As he is sifting through the remains of the altar, he notices two items: first, what he believed to be just another piece of driftwood appears to be a wand, once the caked mud comes off; second, a piece of the stone is actually carved into the shape of a feather. He emerges from the temple with the two items.

When identifying magic items, remember that there is no re-try or 'take 20'. If a Spellcraft check to identify fails, it requires 24 hours of waiting.

Detect Magic, Spellcraft DC 16:
The wand is a wand of cure light wounds with 1d50 ⇒ 50 charges.

As no one can cast the cleric version of cure light wounds, it requires a DC 20 Use Magic Device (trained only) check to use; if someone rolls a 1 on the UMD check, the wand cannot be used for 24 hours.

Detect Magic, Spellcraft DC 17:
The carved stone is a swan boat feather token that can create a boat that can hold 8 medium characters and magically moves at a speed of 60'. It lasts for 24 hours after activation and can only be activated in water.

Meanwhile, Vrunyar examines the cadavers, which still twitch as the toxins from the vudu stop forcing their way through their long-dead veins. He can't tell how long they have been dead, as the toxins seem to have retarded their decay. It appears that the cephalopods latched onto the back of their heads and forced their appendages into the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Looking at the creatures, the tendrils would have been capable of pumping whatever toxins and poisons that the creatures used to animate the bodies straight into them. He stretches one of the dead cephalopods out, measuring its length at four feet long including the tentacles. Vrunyar pulls on the large shell, which comes off with a wet pop. He notes that the flesh of the human bodies seems to have been stripped off systematically, likely as a food source for their parasitic riders.

John examines the uniforms that the corpses wear. They seem long-rotted, but he quickly recognizes them as being from the Imperial Navy of Cheliax. The bodies don't bear any symbol of rank. He tries to remember when they made a change away from this particular style of closure at the chest, knowing that they do not currently have the same style. Thorn is able to identify immediately the time from his lengthy captivity on the Hellsmouth: three years ago, they made the change.


Male Halfling Bard

"Let me take a look at that..." Ollivor glances at the items as he senses the magic

Detect Magic, plus spellcraft...
Spellcraft #1: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Spellcraft #2: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

"Not sure about this wand does, but this stone is a prize worth having. A swan boat token...heard about these while in Absolam, there are all sorts of tokens see, and they change into things. This one turns into a boat of sorts, and can carry up to 8 of us. Only works in water, naturally. I think it only lasts for a full day though, so it's not likely to get us away from Plugg."


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

"A magic boat that fits in yer pocket?" says Doran. "I've heard tell of such things, never thought I'd see one, much less find one in a gods-forsaken place like this. But it could come in damn handy if we run aground again, or if things really go south with Plugg. Wonder what that wand's for?"

Liberty's Edge

Male Human (Taldan) Ranger (Freebooter / Corsair) 4 / Bloodrager (Elemental (Aquatic)) 1 / AC 17/11/16 / HP 47/47 / F +9 R +5 W +3 (+2 vs charm and compulsion) / Init. +1 (+2 at Sea) / Perc. +10 (+2 at Sea) / Sense Motive +10

As quickly as the battle began it was over with a series of well placed and vicious strikes. John took a deep breath out and glanced towards his hands and arms checking for injury. In the heat of battle when adrenaline was surging through you a marine might not notice a minor wound that left untreated could fester in the tepid heat of the jungle. Finding nothing John gave a prayer of thanks, though to whom it was directed was a tricky question had John thought to consider. Certainly the Golden Lord and of course the Drunken Hero, but as of late John had found himself showing a certain amount of respect to the Pirate Queen. In truth respect may have been a strong word, but he had acknowledged her power. In the navy John would have never considered her any sort of patron, but running a hand along the four black dots in the shape of a diamond across his brow, John would have never had his face tattooed either.

Regardless John did offer a thanks to whomever might be listening at the moment before sheathing his cutlass and stowing his axe through his belt. Giving a hand up to Wyn, John nodded at her. Are you feeling alright or do you need a moment to rest? The marine asked glancing at the darkening welts around her neck with concern. As he waited for a reply, the maimed sailor stepped towards the discarded tricorn hat that for weeks before he had seen each day atop Sandara's head. His knee always hurt to some degree, but the long hike over the stone fist and down the other side to the village had caused the pain to flare up and he winced as he bent down to pick up the hat before stowing it in his bag. The tricorn would probably give him a bit of relief from the sun, but the fact was John wanted to hope that the woman was still alive. In putting the hat away he somehow felt like he was saving it for her. To wear it would send the wrong message. It didn't feel right.

As the others made their way into the overgrown temple, John kneels at the side of the closest corpse, moving bits of ragged cloth with a twig before nodding in agreement with Thorn. Three years you say? Changing the uniforms for an entire navy is an expensive undertaking. I wonder what caused the shift? John wondered aloud before turning back to the rest of the group. Like Doran said, well fought. John stated with a decisive nod. I have fought with alot of military men and women before, but I can tell you with total honesty that the teamwork you have each shown is impressive. Turning to the south, John gestured towards the matted leaves and trail of mud.

Survival to follow trail: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Two things, we know that at least Sandra was here and I think we should follow this trail. The way those creatures shamble along the trail should be easy to follow and hopefully it will lead us to wherever they are holding our shipmates. The second is that token Ollivor was able to make sense of. Crossing his arms, John gave a cold smile. The time that a ship is most vulnerable is at anchor. As it so happens, the Man's Promise is just out of reach of a swim, but not so far out that we couldn't reach it by boat. Turning back to Ollivor, John scrunches up his face in thought. You said this thing can hold eight people? Good, well there's six of us and gods willing Sandra and Crimson are still alive. It seems to me that this here magic boat would be perfect for getting us to the Promise the night before it sails so we can bring the fight to Plugg when he least expects it. Eyeing the feather carved token thoughtfully John points to the wand. Anyhow, that's for after we save Sandra and Crimson, but in the mean time, anyone have an idea of what that wand is?


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

”Give me thirty seconds,” Vrunyar says to Doran regarding healing Wyn. He begins by adding drops of basic chemicals and reagents into a vial. After corking it, he shakes the vial, rolls it upside down between his hands, shakes it again cork-side up and finally hands it to Wyn.

Wyn’s Cure Light Wound extract: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

While Doran explores the ruins, Vrunyar prepares one more healing vial. After that, he begins examining the corpses and cephalopods. Engrossed in the task, he doesn’t realize that Doran has returned bearing magic items. He taps the shell, appreciating the beauty of the spiral design.

”I could make an extract to help me identify the wand,” the dwarf says looking at his companions. ”However I would prefer to use my magical potential for healing. Though if the wand can help us fight these vudu, it’d be preventing injuries I don’t need to heal. So in a sense identifying this may be a more efficient use of my limited magic in the long term.” He nods to himself and begins concocting an extract again, very similar to the one he gave Wyn, though clearly adding a drop of red liquid and a pinch of ground owl feather.

Identify: 1d20 + 6 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 10 = 19

Vrunyar’s eyes light up in happiness. ”This is better than I thought! A fully charged healing wand. Ha! It is divine magic as opposed to arcane, so the activation of it won’t be flawless, but this is a valuable asset. You want to hold onto it Ollivor? Give it a try on yourself or John?”

The dwarf nods in agreement about tracking the vudu in hopes of rescuing the two crewmates.

3/4 daily level 1 extracts used


Male Halfling Bard

Ollivor smiles back at Doran, happy to have surprised the First Mate with PLEASANT news for once. The poor fellow rarely got a break some days, so it was Ollivor's treat to see him smile at the fortunate find of the swan boat token.

Quote:

Turning back to Ollivor, John scrunches up his face in thought. You said this thing can hold eight people? Good, well there's six of us and gods willing Sandra and Crimson are still alive. It seems to me that this here magic boat would be perfect for getting us to the Promise the night before it sails so we can bring the fight to Plugg when he least expects it. Eyeing the feather carved token thoughtfully John points to the wand. Anyhow, that's for after we save Sandra and Crimson, but in the mean time, anyone have an idea of what that wand is?

"Sneak up on them by ambush? Gods know, there have been worse plans. Plugg sleeps hard enough, but who will have the night watch I wonder?"

Quote:
Vrunyar’s eyes light up in happiness. ”This is better than I thought! A fully charged healing wand. Ha! It is divine magic as opposed to arcane, so the activation of it won’t be flawless, but this is a valuable asset. You want to hold onto it Ollivor? Give it a try on yourself or John?”

"Now THAT is a find," He gladly takes the wand, and Ollivor takes it to the worst of his lingering wounds and tries to invoke the power of the wand.

Use Magic Device: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24
for a moment, nothing, but then...
He mutters to it,

Draconic:
"By my blood of sea and scale, you will tend as asked."

CLW +1? 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

A white light bursts forth and engulfs the sorcerer, healing the worst of his wounds, and then the wand dims again.

"#$## me, it worked!"
He seems as surprised as anyone, before turning to John, "Let me try that again." He touches the wand to the man and tries it on him.

Use Magic on wand for John. 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

The wand's light pours over John as well, though it takes a moment.

CLW+1? 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

While it doesn't make John whole, it certainly helps the fellow, "This, my friends, is a very nice find indeed, but it fights me a bit, you know? Wasn't made for me... like Vrunyar said, it's divine, and I most certainly ain't."


With some of their bruises and cuts - remnants of the violent attack by the vudu and the terrible storm - healed by Vrunyar's alchemy and the profoundly fortunate discovered wand, the group follows the drag marks south. Eventually, it merges with the old beaten pathway made from rough-hewn stones and crushed granite (likely from the fist that looms over them in the east). The pathway enters the jungle, which envelops them as they walk through its verdant tunnel. As the canopy blocks most of the sun's light - but not the warmth - they wind along the narrow path to the southwest.

After half a mile, the pathway slips suddenly into a large green bog. Remnants of an old wooden bridge cross the bog, but only short timber platforms on either side remain, leaving just the pilings jutting from the mud. The river they saw from above slides along slowly, creating a mushy barrier of marsh and quicksand that is at least 70' across. The trees from the canopy lean over the salt river, but don't quite meet in the middle. A quick look around presents three viable options for crossing: crossing directly, which means jumping from post to post; climbing into the canopy to jump or swing across; and moving off the path into the jungle to find an alternate route, which likely means scaling the cliffs to the west or hiking at least a mile and a half to the east to circle around the base of the fist. A fourth option, which is far from ideal, is to simply make it through the quicksand.

If you use the first option, it requires a series of Acrobatics check. The DC to jump from post to post (of which there are 13) is 10 (actually 5 doubled for no running starts). Failing by less than 5 requires a DC 20 Reflex save to recover, while failing by 5 or more results in falling in quicksand. If you use the second option, it requires a DC 15 Climb check to get to the canopy and a DC 20 Climb check to get across safely. If you use the fourth option, it requires a DC 15 Swim check to move 5', and failure by 5 or more results in getting pulled under. Alternate options are encouraged as well.


John wrote:
Giving a hand up to Wyn, John nodded at her. Are you feeling alright or do you need a moment to rest? The marine asked glancing at the darkening welts around her neck with concern.

Wyn nods at John, and looks with a sort of amazement at the crew surrounding her, all asking after her. They had fought to get her clear of the beasts first. Of course she should have known it, but she realizes how much these fellows have her back. Finding words to articulate the realization, or the ensuing gratitude, however, is not something that comes easily to Wyn. She just claps John on the shoulder and chokes out, "Yep, let's go."

Vrunyar wrote:
”Give me thirty seconds,” Vrunyar says to Doran regarding healing Wyn. He begins by adding drops of basic chemicals and reagents into a vial. After corking it, he shakes the vial, rolls it upside down between his hands, shakes it again cork-side up and finally hands it to Wyn.

The hardest part is swallowing it, but as the elixir goes down she immediately begins to breathe easier, and the bruises from her neck and shoulders fade.

GM Barcas wrote:


After half a mile, the pathway slips suddenly into a large green bog. Remnants of an old wooden bridge cross the bog, but only short timber platforms on either side remain, leaving just the pilings jutting from the mud. The river they saw from above slides along slowly, creating a mushy barrier of marsh and quicksand that is at least 70' across. The trees from the canopy lean over the salt river, but don't quite meet in the middle. A quick look around presents three viable options for crossing: crossing directly, which means jumping from post to post; climbing into the canopy to jump or swing across; and moving off the path into the jungle to find an alternate route, which likely means scaling the cliffs to the west or hiking at least a mile and a half to the east to circle around the base of the fist. A fourth option, which is far from ideal, is to simply make it through the quicksand.

If you use the first option, it requires a series of Acrobatics check. The DC to jump from post to post (of which there are 13) is 10 (actually 5 doubled for no running starts). Failing by less than 5 requires a DC 20 Reflex save to recover, while failing by 5 or more results in falling in quicksand. If you use the second option, it requires a DC 15 Climb check to get to the canopy and a DC 20 Climb check to get across safely. If you use the fourth option, it requires a DC 15 Swim check to move 5', and failure by 5 or more results in getting pulled under. Alternate options are encouraged as well.

Wyn appraises the situation, with a grimace at the bog below them. "That... that's quicksand isn't it?" She shakes her head. "I wonder how they got them across..."

Still, she sees no way to go but forward. Standing ahead of the rest with John as point, she says, "Let me go and see what's over there. Just like jumping the pilings at the docks, right? Once I get over, maybe I can see if there's an easier way to get the rest of you across." Although a much deadlier version of the game... still, she could do that before she gained her sea legs and after Vrunyar's healing, she trusted herself to remain steady. Checking her balance, she took a leap, and one by one, slowly made it to the other side.

Barcas, Wyn's Acrobatics bonus is +10 so she would auto succeed, given 1s do not auto-fail on skills, so I am assuming she gets across.

When she gets there, she assesses her surroundings and looks for danger, firstly, and secondly, boards, vines, ropes, etc. she could use to make the crossing easier for the others.

Perception - looking for trouble: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
Perception - looking for stuff to help make a bridge or something: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15


(ooc:Are the ooc tags suddenly borked?)

((ooc: Yes, they appear to be. The comment toward the bottom of my above post to Barcas is clearly out of character, the rest is ic.))


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Doran watches Wyn hop from post to post as if playing a game, and it's a much happier sight than her being strangled by a mind-controlling, undead-creating squid monster. "Nicely done, Wynifrid!" he calls out. Looking to his companions, he says, "I don't doubt that I could hop across the same way, but I think I'll wait, see if there's some way I can help from this side, same as Wyn's tryin' ta help from the far side."

He studies the situation a moment, then ponders their options aloud, "I wonder if we could rig up a rope from one side to the other, and I could come across last? If we have a rope amongst us, which I doubt. But maybe I could hold onto a vine or a long stick and stand on the posts and help someone swim across. 'Course, if I mess that up, we'll both be in the quicksand. What do you all think?"

Doran also has a +10 to Acrobatics. How can we take advantage of two of us auto-succeeding on the crossing? Actually, Thorn has +9, so he nails it automatically also.

Liberty's Edge

Male Human (Taldan) Ranger (Freebooter / Corsair) 4 / Bloodrager (Elemental (Aquatic)) 1 / AC 17/11/16 / HP 47/47 / F +9 R +5 W +3 (+2 vs charm and compulsion) / Init. +1 (+2 at Sea) / Perc. +10 (+2 at Sea) / Sense Motive +10

In the temple of Gozreh
As the wand sparkled with white healing power, John was rocked back on his feet. He felt his shoulder pop and the tired and aching muscles along his forearm and hand suddenly loosen. The knots and perpetual ache in his elbow were gone and the red haired sailor breathed a sigh of relief. The wand brought a measure of peace to the man. That was until he took a step and felt a wash of pain roll out from his knee. Sighing and shaking his head, John clapped Ollivor on the back. Thanks mate, it's a shame that that wand can only do so much, but you won't hear me complain.

At the Crossing before Wyn tries to cross
Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, John nodded at Wyn's suggestion and curious question. That's a good question Wyn. If Sandra and Crimson were trussed up it would be hard to get them across. There might be some planks or something on the other side, but I can't see anything from here. John stated peering around in speculation.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

Turning back to the woman and the halfling, John waved a hand while frowning towards his peg-leg. I can't say I am the spriest on my feet, unlike Doran or Thorn so I think your idea has merit, that said, give me a moment. I might be able to find a vine around here we can use as a rope like Doran suggested. That way if you fall we can pull you out of the quicksand and or best case, when you make it across, the rest of us have an easy handhold to help support us crossing the mire.

Turning back towards the jungle canopy, the large marine glanced towards the tall white barked palms and black rough cypresses. Though John didn't have much experience in the jungle, he had been part of a group once that had to re-rig a new mast after the Eagle had to rebuild herself after a particularly bad blow in the tropics. Of course that was off the coast of Sargarva and John had just been a seaman then and only along for muscle, but he remembered what to look for.

___________________________
Survival to fashion a rope from a vine: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
Assuming John can find a vine long enough he would have Wyn tie it around herself and hold the other end after looping it around a nearby tree for extra leverage but still provide enough slack that the woman had freedom of movement.


Thorn leaps over as well, joining Doran and Wyn on the other side of the quicksand. He seems to take delight in the act, nimbly hopping without regard for the sucking and slow-moving river below. He ends up on the other side with a bit of a flourish and a hand gesture as if to invite the others to join them. Wyn and Doran look around for a way to help the others across, while John and the rest look for the same on their side.

Suddenly, all of them stiffen in fear. They each hear a terrible buzzing sound. Whipping from upriver, a massive swarm of mosquitoes - tiny bloodsucking insects - flies in their direction. Sensing potential victims to drain, the swarm splits into two parts and flies towards the separated trios on opposite sides of the river.

Rolls:
Doran 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
John 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Mosquito Swarms 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
Ollivor 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Thorn 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Vrunyar 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Wynifrid 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

INITIATIVE
20 Thorn
17 Wynifrid
16 John
12 Doran
12 Vrunyar
8 Mosquito Swarms
3 Ollivor

Knowledge: Nature (DC 13):
The swarms are likely carrying some fairly serious diseases, though the onset would likely take a few days. In such numbers, the mosquitoes will likely cause serious - if not life-threatening - disease to any of the group that they fall upon. They can be kept at bay with fire for a time, and will flee after feeding to satisfaction or after a sufficient number of the swarm is killed.

Mosquito Swarm (2): 31 hp; AC 15/15T/14FF; +5F/+3R/+3W; immune to weapon damage; swarm traits


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Barcas - Doran did not cross to the other side. He intentionally stayed back, in case his help was needed in bringing up the rear after the others crossed.

Seeing the massive cloud of mosquitoes approaching, Doran says quietly, "Oh, gods below..." Raising his voice, he calls out loudly, "How do we fight this? Do any of you know?"

Do we know they're immune to weapon damage? If so, Doran would suggest fire, if that's an option (perhaps those torches we found), but he might have to find out the hard way that you can't slice a swarm.


Male Halfling Bard

"Can they go into the water?" Ollivor asks, even if he lights up his left hand in a curled formation, lighting popping along it ready to ward the things off. "If Not, anyone who isn't carrying fire or flame, I suggest you consider a drive."


Mosquitoes! Round 1 - Initiative 17

Let's call the following a full-round action

Hearing Ollivor from across the gap mention flame, Wyn gets an idea. She pulls out the torch tucked into her waistband and lights it on Thorn's (Assuming he lights his), then picks up a fallen palm frond, tries to light the end of it, then tosses it onto the quicksand below, hoping to create a lot of steam and smoke as the burning frond quickly hits the sodden bog.

She proceeds to pull down more leaves and vines and repeats the action. Flies and bees didn't like to fly into smoke, it should stand to reason the nasty swarm ahead didn't either, and she could only hope the wetness in the area would prevent any flames from spreading.

Of course, this would attract more vudu, if there were any, but at least she could try to stab one of those. There was no point in sword fighting a bug.


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Hold Still, There's a Mosquito on You! Round 1, Initiative 12
HP 22/22 | AC:17 F:15 T:13 | Saves F:+3 R:+8 W:+3

Seeing Wyn light her torch makes Doran realize what a good idea it is. He pulls the torch Thorn gave him from his belt and grabs his flint and steel from his belt pouch. After a few tries, a fat spark leaps from the flint to land on the fuel-soaked end of the torch, igniting the whole thing. He swings it at the mosquitoes as they approach.

I imagine it's a move action to get my stuff out and a move action to light it, might even be more than that, so I won't try to make an attack on them this round.


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

Round 1 Initiative 12
HP: 24/24 −5 nonlethal hp, AC 13; T 11, FF 12 | Saves F:+4 R:+3 W:+3
Full round action cutting a tree branch to light on fire.

”I could try chopping a tree or two down,” Vrunyar says hefting his axe. ”Not sure —“ the words die as he beholds a swarm of mosquitoes descend upon them, the terrible drone causing him to shiver.

”Torag’s sparks! Smoke? Fire? I don’t know,” the dwarf admits but starts to copy the intention of his companions. He looks for a leafy branch that he can chop from a tree and light on fire.

Time to start looking for resources to make smokesticks and tindertwigs as we explore more of the island. Alchemical fire too.


Male Elf Barbarian (Urban Barbarian) 2 / Fighter (Archer) 2 /Sorcerer (Wildblood=Sage Cross Blood=Aquatic) | HP 35/35 | AC:16 T:14 FL:12 | CMD 20 | F:+7 R:+4 W:+2 | Init +4 Perception:+8

Mosquitoes! Round 1 - Initiative 20
HP 18/25 | AC:16 F:12 T:14 | CMD 19 | Save F:+6 R:+4 W:+0

MA Light Torch

After making his way across the posts and following Wyn's lead, Thorn begins to survey the area for anything to help the others cross. Thorn stood still and paused at the sound of a slowly building hhhuuuummmmmm from the distance. Trying to focus his attention on the sound and pin point what direction it was coming from Thorn quickly realized the sound was closing in on their location and growing louder. Thorn suddenly spotted a large dark cloud in the jungle moving rapidly in their direction. Thorn could not make out the cloud but he knew this was no ordinary cloud. Thorn watched intensely as the cloud closed the gap between them and once the cloud split into two separate clouds Thorn knew this was no cloud, "SWARM!!".

Thorn looking to Wyn for suggestions she quickly mentioned fire, torches, and lots of smoke. Grabbing his torch and the sparking his flint with purposeful strikes to make a few sparks touch the torch and quickly ignite. Wyn Rushed over to light her torch with his. "How are we going to make enough smoke with out burning the jungle down and us with it? Thorn watched as Wyn quickly piled palm fronds into the quicksand before lighting the with her torch. Vrunyar began chopping down a palm tree with is axe following Wyn's lead again he too gathered dead and low hanging palm fronds to add to Wyn's burning pile.


Round 1, Initiative 8 | Mosquitoes!

Vrunyar - Craft: Alchemy 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10

Vrunyar looks around to find anything that might repel the massive swarm of buzzing insects rapidly approaching. There must be something in the jungle that would work. He finds nothing more than normal palm fronds, vines, and a handful of coconuts. Perhaps if he had an hour or more to find and test oily leaves, he might be able to create some repellent - but for now all he can find is stuff to burn.

North Swarm (31/31 hp): Target 1d4 ⇒ 4 (Ollivor)
> Damage 2d6 ⇒ (1, 1) = 2

The mosquitoes descend upon the closest of the group on the north shore - the sorcerer Ollivor, who tries his best to summon lightning into his hands to ward them off. The insects bite and sting and swarm around him a hundred at a time. Those who drink from his blood seem quickly sated by its power.

South Swarm (31/31 hp): Enter Smoke (Fortitude, DC 11) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Target 1d2 ⇒ 2 (Wyn)
> Damage 2d6 ⇒ (5, 5) = 10

On the south shore, the swarm doesn't seem fazed by the smoke, which has barely started to rise out of the burning pile of green leaves. Thousands of mosquitoes hit Wyn like a wave, biting her skin with a burning, buzzing madness. They seem everywhere, nearly blinding her to the sun above. She disappears from sight of Thorn and the others in the swarm of blackness - except for her torch occasionally peeking through.

Both of you have 1d6 bleed damage and must make a DC 13 Fortitude save. The north group hasn't started a fire yet. The DC of the smoke will increase every round as long as the fire continues.


Male Halfling Bard

Ollivor curses as his attempt to ward off the bugs with shocks and pops didn't dissuade them in the least. The damn things seem to thrive off his blood, and that feels like a violation on some grand scale, "Bloody insects!"

Fort: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8


Ollivor rolled poorly on Initiative, so he has not had an opportunity until now to cast his spell. It will require a concentration check (DC 13) to cast.


Male Halfling Bard

Concentration: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

Ollivor tries to spark and glow like he's never done before, trying to ignore the pain they've just done and are likely still doing him. Anything to drive them away.

Not that he CAN hurt them, being a swarm in all, but a basis for dmg if he could would be...(Bloodline bonus included)

3d6 + 3 ⇒ (1, 4, 1) + 3 = 9


Mosquitoes! Round 2
Initiative 17

Fortitude: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

SA: Attack Swarm with Torch: 1d20 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (20) + 5 - 4 = 21
If hits, does 1 fire damage

Huh, can I crit with that? If so, roll to confirm:
1d20 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (12) + 5 - 4 = 13

That's it, then. I'm gonna die eaten alive by bugs. Wyn grits her teeth, shuts her eyes, tries to hold her nose with her free hand, and swings the torch at the others. Despite the stinging and the maddening noise about her she stays put--if she remains a target, maybe fewer of the bugs will attack the rest of the group.


Male Elf Barbarian (Urban Barbarian) 2 / Fighter (Archer) 2 /Sorcerer (Wildblood=Sage Cross Blood=Aquatic) | HP 35/35 | AC:16 T:14 FL:12 | CMD 20 | F:+7 R:+4 W:+2 | Init +4 Perception:+8

Mosquitoes! Round 2 - Initiative 20
HP 18/25 | AC:16 F:12 T:14 | CMD 19 | Save F:+6 R:+4 W:+0

SA: Keep building the fire and smoke

Thorn observed the bonfire they built was still in the early stages of a fire and needed more fuel to grow and expand. Grabbing more palm fronds, dried up vines and broken branches covering the jungle floor Thorn paused after hearing several grunts coming from Wyn. Thorn looked up to check on Wyn. Taken a back by the sight of the swarm engulfing her in a cyclone as she swung her torch wildly through the swarm. we have got to get these fires going Thorn Thought to himself and we need them now. Still holding the newly found fuel, Thorn rushed to the fire and threw it in causing the fire to die down momentarily but causing a thick white smoke to rise and fill the area around the fire. "Wyn, quick come closer to the fire and stand in the smoke. It may help get them off of you!"


Halfling Bard (Sea Singer) 2/Rogue (Knife Master) 3 | HP 34/34 | AC 20 | T 16 | FF 14 | CMD 16 | Fort +4 | Ref +12 | Will +7 (+2 vs fear, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone) | Init +4 | Perc +12

Mosquitos, Round 2, Initiative 12
HP 22/22 | AC:17 F:15 T:13 | Saves F:+3 R:+8 W:+3

Doran sees the beginnings of a billowing column of smoke appear on the far side of the quicksand, and decides to try the same approach. With his burning torch in one hand, he tears off a jagged-edged frond from a nearby bush, nearly cutting his hand on its sharp, saw-like leaves in the process. He holds the frond out before him, the torch held below it, until the plant begins to smoke, then burn. Its still-green stem and drier fronds burn fitfully, but create a good deal of smoke.

He steps closer to Ollivor and waves the smoking frond at him, hoping to drive the mosquitos away. "I hope you can fry these damn things, Ollivor, 'cuz I don't know how else we can fight 'em!"


Male Halfling Bard

"I can't spread what I've got..." Ollivor shouts over the buzzing, "My spells ain't much use"


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

Round 1 Initiative 12
HP: 24/24 −5 nonlethal hp, AC 13; T 11, FF 12 | Saves F:+4 R:+3 W:+3
Move action: Move to stand next to Doran.
Standard Action: Light the fern frond with Doran’s torch.

Vrunyar’s face pales despite his sun weathered skin as Wyn disappears from view. He takes the fern frond he cut and lights it with Doran’s torch. He waves it slowly from side to side, hoping the mosquitoes keep at bay. As the smoke billows around him, the dwarf says, ”I’m jumping in the water if this doesn’t work!”

Liberty's Edge

Male Human (Taldan) Ranger (Freebooter / Corsair) 4 / Bloodrager (Elemental (Aquatic)) 1 / AC 17/11/16 / HP 47/47 / F +9 R +5 W +3 (+2 vs charm and compulsion) / Init. +1 (+2 at Sea) / Perc. +10 (+2 at Sea) / Sense Motive +10

Mosquitoes! Round 1, Initiative 16
hp 23/29; AC 19/13/18 CMD 20; +6F/+4R/+3W (+1 vs charm and compulsion)

>FA: Knowledge (nature) to identify ways to protect against the swarm. (Identify a common plant or animal DC10) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
>>FA: Inner Strength to try for the reroll to identify natural ways to protect against the swarm. (DC 15) 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
>>>FA: Knowledge (nature) to identify ways to protect against the swarm. (Identify a common plant or animal DC10) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
>>>>MA: Move to Shoreline.
>>>>>SA: Roll in Mud.

The sounds of the jungle seethed in the background. Ahead John could hear the grunt of exertion as Wyn leaped from log to log followed shortly thereafter by Thorn. The wounded sailor watched them as they gracefully managed to leap the gap before looking down at his own leg that ended just below the knee with a sour grimace. In his heart John was envious of the mobility the others possessed. He was able to move around for day to day activity, but the man knew that something as graceful as the elves inborn ability or the woman's years of dodging drunks was something that he didn't possess.. at least not anymore.

Accompanying the thought was another flare of pain from his knee. The magic of the wand had suppressed some of the ache but it seemed as if it had been only a temporary relief. Glancing at the other bank, John sighed. They didn't even take my vine.. the man thought glancing at the sap oozing end he held clutched in his large hands. When, suddenly his concern about how he was going to cross to the other side of the muddy and quicksand covered bank was interrupted by a change in the sounds of the jungle.

Out of nowhere the seething, low hum of a thousands, thousand insects, birds and other creatures was replaced by a high pitched whining. On the other bank, Thorn shouted a warning about a swarm and John shuttered. He could see them approaching along the river, two black clouds of mosquitoes. The sun through a break in the trees shown down upon them and the swarm seemed to almost draw in the light, there were so many. Quietly, as others around him reacted, some creating fire, John instead thought.

If one glanced at the grizzled, marine with his large calloused hands, huge shoulders and maimed leg, they would not figure John for a thinker. Five years before when John had been at the young age of eighteen, he wouldn't have considered himself one either. But, as they say, judge a man by whom he associates with, and John had been lucky to serve as a protege to two of the finest officers the Andoran Navy had ever created, First Lieutenant Steele and Lord Havershaw. As the swarms approached, John thought furiously. He knew from experience that some battles could not be won with strength of arms. No! Some battles need not even be fought at all. Some battles could be considered a victory if you could drive your opponent away.

Moving towards the fire, John's peg became stuck fast in the mud and the man cursed. Glancing down again, John's grimace turned to a wolfish grin. THE MUD! John bellowed, before throwing himself down into the thick soupy mud that had slowed their progress through the island. Wallowing like a content pig, the red haired man rolled around as if he was on fire, coating his clothes, arms, leg and face with the thick brown sludge that had built up along the edges of the trail. Throw yourself in the mud. The mosquitoes won't be able to bite through the thickness.

Mosquitoes! Round 2, Initiative 16
hp 23/29; AC 19/13/18 CMD 20; +6F/+4R/+3W (+1 vs charm and compulsion)

>MA: Move to stand next to Doran.
>>SA: Light the vine end with Doran’s torch.

Literally covered head to foot with a thick paste of brown mud, John pulled himself free of the morass. His clothes and hair tripped with brown rivulets of the earth and water, congealed into a thick paste. The sheer weight of the mud seemed to weigh him down, slowing his footsteps and every few seconds John had to squint to see through the constantly dripping liquid. Smiling behind the mud, John reached down with one brown hand and grabbed the edge of the vine he had dropped before diving face first into the muck. Shambling towards Doran's lit torch, John lit the end of the vine on fire. He wrapped the other edge of the vine in his fist and made ready to enact the second part of his plan. Step one had been to protect himself against the bites of the swarm. The next step would be to try to drive them off by swinging the vine around his head like he was preparing to heave a line. Hopefully the speed and radius of the flaming lash would drive the creatures off..
___________________________
Apologies, as you all know, I'm visiting family in Texas and my access to a computer has been limited. Today was the first time I have been able to write a post from anything but my cellphone since I got here. Barcas, I hope you approve of my use of Inner Strength, I think that this meets the requirements since I failed to hit a DC10 the first roll.


Round 2, Initiative 8 | Mosquitoes!

North Swarm (31/31 hp)
> Smoke Fortitude save (DC 13) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
> Electricity Fortitude save (DC 14) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
> Change Target 1d3 ⇒ 2 (Doran)
>> Swarm damage (Doran) 2d6 ⇒ (4, 5) = 9

Ollivor bleed damage 1d6 ⇒ 2

The mosquitoes fly away from Ollivor, though a clump of the tiny insects buzz down to the small pool of blood on the ground from his injuries. The rest, avoiding the snapping electricity from his hands, find a more suitable target: Doran. They cover the halfling completely despite the smoking frond he carries, biting and stinging him a hundred times over.

South Swarm (30/31 hp)
> Smoke Fortitude save (DC 13) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

Wyn bleed damage 1d6 ⇒ 1

Between Wyn's swinging torch and the rapidly building smoke from their makeshift fire, the mosquitoes begin to clear away. A few cling to her skin as the black cloud dissipates, but the rest fly upwards and away. They continue along the river, looking for other prey that doesn't carry fire or create smoke. Blood drips from Wyn's inflamed skin.

INITIATIVE
20 Thorn
17 Wynifrid
16 John
12 Doran
12 Vrunyar
8 Mosquito Swarms
3 Ollivor

Wyn, Doran, and Ollivor are all suffering from bleed damage. They need either magical healing or a DC 15 Heal check to stop the bleeding.


M Dwarf Alchemist (Vivisectionist/Chirurgeon) 5 HP 39:39 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 | CMD 17 | F:+6 R:+6 W:+3 | Init: +2 Per: +7

Round 3 Initiative 12
HP: 24/24 −5 nonlethal hp, AC 13; T 11, FF 12 | Saves F:+4 R:+3 W:+3
Full round action: jump into the mud, roll around.

As Vrunyar waves his burning frond like a drunken cleric with a censer, he hears John urging them into the mud. Through the billowing smoke, he can make out his mud covered form. The swarming insects don’t seem to be attacking him as much as the others, so Vrunyar lifts the makeshift torch over his head and jumps into the mud. Eyes firmly shut, he rolls like a log with one end burning. At the end, he rises to one knee, wipes mud from his face and blinks his eyes open. Fern still ablaze over his head, like some confused earth-fire elemental.

”Haven’t been this dirty since my week in a coal mine for punishment!”

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