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DM Rah's Strange Aeons

Game Master Kobash

~Guide to Strange Aeons~
+Visual Guide+
=Combat Map=
$Loot List$


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~Strange Aeons~
Chapter 1 - In search of Sanity

You stand alone in the streets if a strange city. A wall of sickly yellow fog swirls about, tumbling through canyons of buildings made from crumbling, gray brick. A battered bridge arcs overhead, nearly blotting out a bruised twilight sky. From the silent swell of mist, approaching at a steady pace, echoes the sound of shuffling footsteps...

Ssh-shuk ssh-shuk ssh-shuk

The fog surges forward, cold and menacing, hungry and dangerous. You flee before it through cobblestone streets and narrow alleys. Racing between gaps in the ruins you glimpse a large yellow moon. You run, but the relentless sound of pursuit grows closer...

Ssh-shuk ssh-shuk ssh-shuk

From deeper within the mists a man cries out in a plea of tortured horror, or perhaps fanatic adulation.

"Iä! Iä!"

You run onward, but your limbs are clumsy and sluggish. Every step catches on cracks, or is snagged by dead vines stretching across your path. The cries and footsteps hound you relentlessly through the ancient city.

Closer and closer, the footsteps come.

Ssh-shuk ssh-shuk ssh-shuk

Closer and closer, the voice cries out.

"Iä! Iä!"

You break from the ruins and nearly hurtle into a dark chasm ripped through the earth ahead. As wide as a river, and seemingly bottomless, the chasm yawns like a wound, as though a giant claw had torn across the city. Trapped, you turn helplessly to the billowing mists. The footsteps approach, and a humanoid silhouette begins to form in the mists. The voice cries out again, the sound stabbing painfully at your ears!

"Iä! Iä!"

***

You wake from the dream with a jarring start and find yourself in an unfamiliar room. Your head swims, your thoughts sluggish. A terrible exhaustion weighs upon you, as if you hadn't slept in days. The face of a middle aged man looms over you. Dressed in fine clothes with a heavy fur coat, his peppered hair and a long well-groomed beard frame eyes concealed behind dark circular spectacles. He speaks with a dark-haired woman in black bearing a detached clinical expression on her face.

"You will honor our agreement, Dr. Losandro." He says, not quite asking.
"Of course, my lord." The woman replies. "Briarstone will tend to them as we do all the unfortunates that come into our care. But this state they are in... what can you tell me of it?"
"Very little." The man replies, his voice tight.
"Will they recover?"
"I honestly do not know. But I must leave that question for you to answer. I have given you tools that may help in your work, but my business is urgent and takes me elsewhere."
The man turns and strides away.
"Of course." The woman follows, their voices fading in the distance. "When will you return?"
"Perhaps when my journey is over..."

As their voices fade, four sturdy men in off-white leather coats step into view.

"Six new patients for the Asylum." Says a bald man with a short brown beard as he examines a stack of papers clipped to a small wooden board. "Hmm... not a single name among them."
"What do we call them?" Asks a younger man in the group. "Do we just use their patient numbers?"
"Oh, come on! Where's the fun in that?" Another chuckles, his wide grin displaying a prominent gap between his front teeth.
"Ease up on him Campre, he's green." A lean woman with a hooked nose says.
"He's gotta learn sometime, Hobes." The gap-toothed Campre shrugs.
"I didn't think an asylum was a place for fun..." The young man mumbles.
"You're Denman, right?" The bald man asks. "Listen here. Campre and Hobes have worked at Briarstone for about a decade between them. They know that if you take this work too seriously you might end up like one of these poor bastards, sitting in a pool of piss and drooling at the walls. Or worse."
"Don't worry." Campre grins. "These guys need names, and Cap'n York has a knack for them."
"Hmm." The bald man, Captain York, responds. Walking around the patients, he looks upon each, sometimes reaching out to turn a face for closer examination. "Hey, you have a name?" He demands, giving one unkempt patient a light slap. He leans closer at mumbled reply.
"What did he say Cap'n?" Campre leans in.
"Cats." York replies, making a note on one of the papers as he moves to the next patient.
"How about you?" Campre nudges another patient. "Nothing?"
"What's that on his forehead?" Asks Hobes.
"Looks like a Harrow." Says Denman.
"A har-what?" Asks Campre.
"Harrow. Varisian fortune teller's carry cards marked with them. I think that one is called The Twin."
"Check out the brains on Denman!" Campre chuckles. "You a student at the Sincomakti or something?"
"Campre." Hobes warns.
"What? Just saying he's smart."
"The Twin, you said?" York confirms, ignoring the banter as he flips through his pages and makes a note.
"This one's mumbling something. Sounds like prayers." Hobes points to another patient.
York examines the mumbler. "Birthmark here on his arm, covered with a tattoo. Looks like a butterfly. Hmm. Must be a brother of the faith." With a smile he adds another note to his papers.
"Can we call this one Old Fish?" Asks Campre. "Smells like the kitchen on Sundays."
York looks the older patient over, pulling something from a small braid in his beard.
"What do you have there?" Asks Hobes.
"Whalebone, I think. Like the kind mariners are fond of." He thinks for a moment before shrugging and making another note.
Moving to a halfling, he begins to reach out but the patient flinches away with wide eyes.
"Always heard halflings were overly brave." Hobes notes. "Guess that doesn't go for all of them."
"Should we call him Scaredy Cat?" Suggests Denman, now eager to participate.
"No." York shakes his head and makes a note. "We have one Cat already. With this one I think we will go with sarcasm and just call him Fearless."
Moving to the last patient, York makes a quick note after just a glance. "This one's easy." He says, flipping the papers flat.
"How so?"" Campre looks quizzically at the patient. "Looks the most normal out of the bunch, unless you're calling him The Kid."
"We already have a Kid in the asylum too. This one..." He says, holding up the limp hand of the young patient to display an angry scar where the little finger should be. "...we will call Pinkie."

***

York and his orderlies muscle you through a process that has you scrubbed clean and fitted into colorless simple clothes. You are then deposited into a large common hall illuminated by large barred windows set high on the walls. You are dimly aware of other figures here, milling about or slumped into battered furniture. Over the next few hours your strength and senses slowly return, but your memories remain a mystery.

***

Looking around, you find yourself among other patients overseen by a handful of orderlies and the occasional nurse. The general population here seems crippled by madness or catatonia. Some stand as if paralyzed or sway like willows in a gentle breeze. A few babble at unseen figments of their imagination. An old man crouches near a wall, smashing invisible insects with a sturdy boot. Another old woman sits in a wheelchair staring up at the light streaming through the windows above. A man with a scar-stitched misshapen skull drools in a chair.

Yet there are islands of apparent sanity among the patients, and some appear coherent enough to play at simple games and engage in conversation. Two young men, seemingly brothers, sit with a shadow lantern, turning it and watching a story it projects upon a wall. Two men, one young and one ancient, sit playing at cards. Across the hall, perched on a table near a window, a man sings softly in falsetto. Gathered around him is a small crowd - a handsome but painfully thin man, a balding man attempting to sing along but prevented by a powerful stutter, and a young woman sitting protectively close to a wide-eyed boy.


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Male Halfling | HP 28/28 | AC 18; TCH 18; FF 15 | Perc +10
Consumables:
Spells (1) 4/4 | Inspiration 2/4 | Tactician 1/1 | Challenge 1/1 | Phrenic 1/1 | Bolts: 50/50; CI 50/50; Silver 50/50 |

A small Halfling with disheveled dirty blond hair stares about in wide eyed fear. A look of confusion crosses his face as it darts left and right inspecting all within the room with a quick glance.

Slowly he wanders around the room until a large man stomps on an invisible bug near him. "Fearless" leaps into the air with a yelp as he scurries to put his back into a corner.

"Whaa...whaa...what is going on? Where am I?"

Who am I?

His hands shake as he panics with each new noise. It takes him several moments before he finally gets up the courage to approach the young woman protecting the wide eyed boy.

"What is all this?" he asks in a shaky voice.


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m human AC 17 Perception +12

A young boy sits quietly against the wall with his head down but not so much that he can't take in his surroundings.

"No I don't remember....." long pause

"Well if your so smart you tell me" chuckling

"blah blah blah NOW GO AWAY!"

.....and he continues to study those around him


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Guy who Rocks in Chair 4

Cats looks around, bobbing his head as he does.

"Yeah, this isn't right, is it, cats? Where do you think we are? Huh, cats?" Cats says any nearby cats.

Cats finds a chair and sits, but only after looking under the chair, then wiping off the chair with his hand just before he sits down.

He rocks.

This place is different.

And rocks.

Who are these people? Am I one of these people?

And rocks.

Huh, cats? Where am I? How did I get here? This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful cat.

And rocks in his chair, gently thinking and looking around.


The woman looks at Fearless, but does not respond. The boy peers around her curiously, but she adjusts to keep herself between him and the halfling. The stuttering man turns and tries to be helpful with a not-so-subtle whisper.
"Briar... Briar.... Briar... Briar... Briar-"
"Briarstone Asylum." The handsome thin man offers. "Don't worry. You're safe here."


Male Halfling | HP 28/28 | AC 18; TCH 18; FF 15 | Perc +10
Consumables:
Spells (1) 4/4 | Inspiration 2/4 | Tactician 1/1 | Challenge 1/1 | Phrenic 1/1 | Bolts: 50/50; CI 50/50; Silver 50/50 |

Fearless yelps as he turns around. He wasn't expecting the chattering thin man. He cringes down as he looks up at the man.

Asylum!? What? Why? Who are you? Who am I? the little halfling chatters out.


m human AC 17 Perception +12

The little ball of cloths against the wall pops up and hurries twords the handsome man.

"Did you say ASYLUM?

motioning for those behind him to stay back he glances over his shoulder. Although nobody is there

SHHHH I'll handle this.

Scarab Sages

M Human Cleric of Desna Level 4 AC 15 w/shield. 14 W/O. +7 Perception

A rotund bald man - looks around.
He says, "I don't belong here. I am perfectly sane." THESE People are obviously crazy. Where exactly am I? Tell the person in charge that...... I can't remember my name"


Guy who Rocks in Chair 4

The tall man, some have dubbed him 'Cats' (a name he does not know he responds to), stops his rocking to reach up and feel this face and hair. His tremulous fingers draw back from his longer-than-expected beard...and go even higher to his longer-than-expected hair.

"Oh, I see I've grown some fur here, haven't I cats? I don't know why I haven't shaven. Maybe the cats stole my razor, maybe they did. They probably did. Them cats," Cats says to himself, beginning to rock as his fingers go over the strange hair that has grown on his face seemingly overnight.

He looks around the room for a mirror, and notices the others around him again and for the first time. He looks under the chair for something, and then looks again for a mirror.

GM Rah, is there a mirror about? A polished surface? A basin of water?


Rough Around the Edges 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC 17; Touch 13; FF 14 | Fort +2; Ref +3; Will +2 | CMD 15 | Initiative +3 | Perception +2 | Sense Motive -1 | Kn. Arc +8 | Spellcraft +5
Eidolon Stats:
HP: 11/11 | AC 21*; Touch 13; FF 18* | Fort +1; Ref +6; Will +3 | CMD 15 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +5 | Kn. Religion +8 | Stealth +8
Resources:
Summon SLA: 5/5 | Spells: 1st: 3/3

GM:
Just taking liberties with the eidolon being made out of cards. I know he doesn't have a deck yet.

Thw-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-ick.

In the corner of the common hall, a man continually shuffles a deck of cards over and over as he eyes the room. "These guys are weird." he whispers, seemingly to himself.

Thw-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-ick.

Another shuffle of the deck causes the man to glance towards the loud-mouthed halfling. "Shhh... He's probably faking to make it seem like he is in here, but I bet he wants to steal you."

Thw-w-w-w-w-w-ick.

As he shuffles the deck a third time, it is cut short, sending a few cards across the room and the man's eyes are wide. "Wait... he doesn't know his name either? I don't know my name!" he whispers anxiously. As he stares blankly at the table next to him, unreasonably long and unmoving, the errant cards slowly move back towards the deck until all 52 are returned.

Scarab Sages

M Human Cleric of Desna Level 4 AC 15 w/shield. 14 W/O. +7 Perception

The man they dubbed Brother Butterfly paces about the room. Sometimes moving his hand along his quasi-bald head (which is growing some hair that is sticking straight up at this point) and along his arms and legs. Almost, but not quite itching at his skin.
When his hands aren't fiddling with his skin, he subconsciously twists and shapes an amazing crisp and curling mustache. Sometimes taking spit onto his fingers to properly wet the ends of the mustache and bend them into practiced shape.

Cats. You mentioned something about a razor. Do you have a razor? Also, if you find a mirror-- make certain to tell me - please. I have to see what I look like in these near rags. At least they are clean clothes. Those orderlies did a heck of a job scrubbing them right. I can smell the soap on these clothes. Damn right good job of them orderlies.

He then walks up to the group of people and asks,
Where is the orderlies anyway? Like Denman or Hobbs? I have to tell them not to give me anymore of those wacky drugs. That's if they gave me any. I can't seem to remember anything past a few hours ago. Anyway, I was rambling. Whatever drugs they gave me led to one hell of a terrible nightmare. It freaked me out of my skin.


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Rough Around the Edges 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC 17; Touch 13; FF 14 | Fort +2; Ref +3; Will +2 | CMD 15 | Initiative +3 | Perception +2 | Sense Motive -1 | Kn. Arc +8 | Spellcraft +5
Eidolon Stats:
HP: 11/11 | AC 21*; Touch 13; FF 18* | Fort +1; Ref +6; Will +3 | CMD 15 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +5 | Kn. Religion +8 | Stealth +8
Resources:
Summon SLA: 5/5 | Spells: 1st: 3/3

"Drugs!?" yells the brown-haired man, seemingly in surprise. "They are drugging us?! I bet it is laced with a mind control potion!" he exclaims.

Throwing his cards up in the air, he begins to pace around the little area by his table. "They are slowly eroding our brains, just like the Taldor aristocracy wanted! I bet we are the newest batches of secret assassins that they use to attack Cheliax!" he proclaims as the cards begin to slowly float back down to the table, settling down and reforming the entire deck.

"Quick, vomit out the drugs everyone!" he yells as he shoves his finger down his throat, bending over and gagging loudly.


Cats looks around for something shiny, and finds a slightly reflective window that looks in on a small room with a nurse sitting at a desk. Brother Butterfly talks at his back, but wanders away without waiting for an answer or noticing the window himself.

His song interrupted three times in less then a minute, the singer on the table clears his throat. "Why don't you take a seat and ride it out. I'm sure it's just..."

The singer is interrupted again, this time by a man flipping invisible cards and crying out about conspiracies and drugs. Few patients take notice, but one gets wide-eyed and immediately shoves a finger down his own throat and spews a stream of vomit across the floor.

"Gonna... gonna... gonna..." The stuttering man gags and pinches his mouth. Everyone around him scrambles to get out of range.

"Ok, ok, everyone settle down here!" York's strong voice commands as he approaches with a couple other orderlies.


Perc +5, AC 20

He woke from troubled dreams, finding himself laying on his back. Then lifting his head he could see his dark belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff carapaced sections; the large dirty swath of fabric was hardly able to cover his thorax and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he numbly observed without conclusion.

What's happened to me..., he thought in slow syllables that he can hear internally. This isn't a dream... His room, a proper human room, although a little too small with many people in it, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.

How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense, he thought, but it was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleeping on his right side, and in his present state couldn't get into that position. No matter how sharply he threw himself onto his right, he always rolled back to where he was. He must have tried it a hundred times, shutting his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there that he had never felt before. He then turned to look up at all the towering creatures about him and by chance catches the stare of one of them - eyeball to eyeballs. He's looking at me...I'm looking at him... The hem of fabric suddenly lifts away, flipping him right side up in a blink.

-Oh... I'm hallucinating.


Male Halfling | HP 28/28 | AC 18; TCH 18; FF 15 | Perc +10
Consumables:
Spells (1) 4/4 | Inspiration 2/4 | Tactician 1/1 | Challenge 1/1 | Phrenic 1/1 | Bolts: 50/50; CI 50/50; Silver 50/50 |

The little Halfling gets a small bit of bravery as he wants, no rather he needs answers. He hustles to York and the orderlies, slipping in a bit of The Twin's bile on his way. "Why are we in here? What are you doing with us? Who am I? Who are you?


Guy who Rocks in Chair 4
Brother Butterfly wrote:
"Cats. You mentioned something about a razor. Do you have a razor? Also, if you find a mirror-- make certain to tell me - please. I have to see what I look like in these near rags."

Cats jumps back as his 'name' is spoken by the stranger. He spins to look at Butterfly.

"Who are you? And how did you know that name? Who's name is that, huh cats?" Cats asks, his hands going to his 'new' beard.

"If you find a razor, do let me or the cats know, okay? I seem to have grown a lot of beard here. On my face, you see?" Cats is interrupted to watch a man force himself to vomit. He watches then turns his attention back to Butterfly.

"So...where do you think we are?" Cats asks Butterfly. "Where is this?"

* * *

DM Rah wrote:
Cats looks around for something shiny, and finds a slightly reflective window that looks in on a small room with a nurse sitting at a desk.

Cats is slow to approach the nurses station, taking his time to investigate the before approaching the mirrory surface.

"Excuse me, I need to see my face. I think my face is wrong," Cats says to the nurse as way of both asking and explanation. "Not sure why I have so much hair, huh cats?"

Cats looks at his face, noting the difference in hair and age, trying to remember...trying to remember everything. He looks at his face, then the nurse.

"Excuse Ms. Nurse, might it be too much trouble to get a razor, and perhaps a real mirror and water? I promise to take good care of it. I'm very good at keeping my word...I think," Cats asks the nurse.

Scarab Sages

M Human Cleric of Desna Level 4 AC 15 w/shield. 14 W/O. +7 Perception

Cats- to answer your question, Captain York appears to have assigned us all names. For you, he has called you Cats. So, all the rest of us have started to use that nickname. Do you have another name – one from your past – that you used?
(seeing Cats move to ask good questions to the nurse – one’s that he’d like to know himself – he let’s Cat’s go without needing him to reply.)
Further noticing the chaos start to erupt around him. Distinctly noticing the disgusting “vomit party” about to happen, Brother Butterfly visibly shudders and starts to show the exhaustion he feels -- with his body language reflecting a tired and fatigue body.
Tired, oh so very tired, Brother Butterfly looks around for the most comfortable chair in the room. Hopefully it is unoccupied, and if so, Brother Butterfly plops down in the chair with a huge sigh of relief. Should the chair be occupied he goes to the person and politely asks to “have a turn” sitting in that most comfortable of chairs. If the recipient seems to be catatonic and non-responsive Brother Butterfly casually and nicely moves the person to a nice space on the floor or another nearby chair and quickly occupies the most luxurious and softest cushioned chair. His semi-fat bottom making a ka-plop sound. He also takes a couple of minutes cleaning up his immediate/surrounding area. Dusting the pillow cushion and using his hand to clean up any debris that is along the high backed chair.
Once seated, he again tries to take in the room -- especially the interactions and information provided by the orderlies. He also is intrigued by the card tricks that The Twins seems to be doing with mystical powers. During the time that he is looking around and observing all of the events that are unfolding; he uses his fingernails to clumsily try to pluck out some of the newly forming hairs on his arm and his legs.
Once order or at least quasi-order seems to be restored. Brother Butterfly speaks to Fearless, Fearless- young Halfling. You have questions that haven't seemed to be answered. I know your questions are strangely similar to questions that I too have. Maybe we should try and help each other come up with, and working together we can find some of those answers. To the other five people that I seem to have arrived here with. Please raise your hand if you CAN NOT remember your real,true name. (Brother raises his own hands and continues) I do not remember any information about who I am, nor know exactly where I am, and I am perfectly sane – so I do not have the foggiest clue why I am here at this Asylum.


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Perc +5, AC 20

Snapping out of delirium, he pins himself flat to the wall, staring as the cockroach scurries by towards the exit. The Mariner is an aging man of average height with a strong chin and nose, but the good features end there. He has the look of a man once very strong in his youth, but that strength has given way to heavy shoulders a rounding belly. Ragged black hair turning grey recedes from a bald crown above a weathered face. His skin, like leather left too long under the sun. His blue eyes are addled and clouded, never seeming steady or in focus.

As York and the orderlies enter the room, crushing the cockroach in an awful squish and horrific death cry in their path, the Mariner looks up in wide-eyed realization and says out loud as if convincing himself, ”I’ve got to get out of here…”. He suddenly remembers a Halfling from some faint memory and says slowly in perfect Luiric, "አንተም ሊመጣ የሚችለው". Then leaps at whoever is has the keys.

Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (12) - 1 = 11
CMB Steal: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

"You can come too."


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Male Halfling | HP 28/28 | AC 18; TCH 18; FF 15 | Perc +10
Consumables:
Spells (1) 4/4 | Inspiration 2/4 | Tactician 1/1 | Challenge 1/1 | Phrenic 1/1 | Bolts: 50/50; CI 50/50; Silver 50/50 |

The young Halfling screams at the top of his lungs as Brother Butterfly speaks to him from a nearby chair.

His questions are the same is mine. He is copying me. He doesn't want to help me. He is trying to lure me in.

Fearless looks up to the orderlies for help and answers.


Guy who Rocks in Chair 4
"Brother Butterfly" wrote:
Cats- to answer your question, Captain York appears to have assigned us all names. For you, he has called you Cats. So, all the rest of us have started to use that nickname. Do you have another name – one from your past – that you used?

Cats seems to consider the question for a bit, not really being able to parse it well.

"Well, I know that my name isn't Cats. It's...Cats," Cats stammers with a bit of confusion and tiredness in his face. He seems to have a hard time remembering, focusing. It's as if his memories memories remain a mystery. "Yeah, that isn't my name. My name isn't Cats. It's Cats. For sure."

Cats looks at Butterfly and his lack of hair. He looks up and down.

"Where did you find a razor? And what was your name again?"

Scarab Sages

M Human Cleric of Desna Level 4 AC 15 w/shield. 14 W/O. +7 Perception

"Cats" wrote:""Yeah, that isn't my name. My name isn't Cats. It's Cats. For sure."....... "Where did you find a razor? And what was your name again?"

(still comfortably seated and raising his hand - even through the upcoming melee that "The Mariner" may be starting)
Brother Butterfly looks "It's..Cats" in the eye.
It's...Cats. I have wracked my brain to try and reclaim my name. I don't mind having a nickname, so for the time being, I think "Brother Butterfly" is fine and good. I was hoping to use some deductive reasoning and try to deduce what region people might be from, and then toss out names that are common for that region. Maybe a name will "click" with someone like you and I and maybe others.

As for a razor, (a look of covetous desire twinkles in his eye) I can only wish I had one. That and a mirror would sure make me feel more comfortable while I am obviously surrounded by this bedlam. I have hair growing in all over my body! (he takes a moment to pluck a couple of hairs from his arm, then leans forward to show Cats the top of his head- pointing),THIS is a spiky mess, but what the hell can I do about it without something sharp?! And the orderlies sure as hell aren't going to pass us something sharp with guys like "The Mariner" doing what he is doing.... look!
(He changes from pointing at his head to pointing towards "The Mariner" and how he is springing towards the orderlies.)
THAT can't end well


Rough Around the Edges 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC 17; Touch 13; FF 14 | Fort +2; Ref +3; Will +2 | CMD 15 | Initiative +3 | Perception +2 | Sense Motive -1 | Kn. Arc +8 | Spellcraft +5
Eidolon Stats:
HP: 11/11 | AC 21*; Touch 13; FF 18* | Fort +1; Ref +6; Will +3 | CMD 15 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +5 | Kn. Religion +8 | Stealth +8
Resources:
Summon SLA: 5/5 | Spells: 1st: 3/3

Brother Butterfly:
If you type out something like [qote=Cats](Insert text)[/qote], then you can quote him which makes the post easier to read! (Quote is mispelled purposefully so as not to make the hypertext work! Make sure to add the 'u'!)

This is what it looks like!

Cats wrote:
(Insert text)

The half elf looks around the room before actually vomiting, trying to see if anyone will react and the distinct lack of interruption from the orderlies gives him pause. "Oh... I guess they aren't, otherwise they would have stopped me." he thinks aloud.

"Or maybe they want me to think that and I am playing into their hand..." he says, trailing off, clearly still in his own world.

He idly grabs his imaginary deck and begins to flip the cards around with his fingers, deftly maneuvering the cards in his mind, but his fingers flap in the air as seen by everyone else who cares to look.

When the Mariner lunges for an orderly, Twin looks at him wide-eyed. "Revolution!" he screams as he charges in as well. "We will take down the evil overlords!"


As York and his orderlies set about restoring order in the hall, the thin man responds to the halfling "Fearless", "We're in here because someone thought we were crazy. My name is Brin. This is Juglan."
"Hello... Hello... Hello... Hello." Juglan stutters.
"He gets stuck on words." The singer adds, having given up entirely on his song. "But it could be worse. Mura is mute, and can't seem to get any out at all." He gestures to the woman shielding the young man. "The boy behind her is Bates. My name is Wren Elbourne. I'm here because my father thinks it's crazy for a young man to refuse a marriage of convenience." He smiles and shares a look with Brin as if they know a private joke.

***

The man dubbed "Cats" approaches the window and makes a request of the nurse on the other side. He notices a name tag on her uniform that says "Dalami".

"I'm sorry," She says, glancing at a number stitched into front of his shirt and then checking in a book. "You are... Patient 6237, Cats..." She casts a disapproving frown in York's direction. "Hmm. This lists your condition as catatonic, but that obviously isn't right. You will need to get permission from a doctor to use sharp objects without supervision. I'm sure Doctor Oathsday or her assistant Doctor Lovelan will conduct an evaluation with you soon enough."

Denied the tools needed to shave for the moment, Cats turns to find that "Brother Butterfly" has commandeered a stuffed chair from a slack-jawed patient and dragged it across the floor to the group around the singer where he is conducting a one-sided conversation with "Fearless" that seems to have dispelled the skittish halfling's brief moment of courage.

While Cats and Butterfly discuss the subject of their names, and proper grooming habits, the orderlies manage to restore the hall to an acceptable level of insanity. Approaching the Harrow-marked man he named "The Twin" York smooths his beard with one hand and levels a stern look at him.

"No more of that now, you hear? You cause us trouble and we move you upstairs with the others. Understand?" However, before an answer can be given more trouble finds him...

Having finally snapped out of his stupor, "The Mariner" decides to abandon pretense and make a break for freedom. Spotting a set of keys on a ring hanging from York's belt, he rushes forth to grab them!

York, however, has much experience dealing with the unexpected, and drops an elbow onto the old man's head.

Combat Reflexes AoO: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Nonlethal Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

The Mariner takes a solid blow but comes away from the exchange with the keys in hand.

ROLLS:

INITIATIVE
Brother Butterfly: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7
Cats: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Fearless: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Pinkie: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
The Mariner: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
The Twin: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
York: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
Orderlies: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

INITIATIVE
Fearless
Orderlies
Cats
Pinkie
York
The Mariner (6 damage)
Brother Butterfly
The Twin


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Male Halfling | HP 28/28 | AC 18; TCH 18; FF 15 | Perc +10
Consumables:
Spells (1) 4/4 | Inspiration 2/4 | Tactician 1/1 | Challenge 1/1 | Phrenic 1/1 | Bolts: 50/50; CI 50/50; Silver 50/50 |

Fearless snorts and chuckles to himself.

What kind of name is Wren?

Seeing "The Mariner" suddenly take a blow on the head from the orderlies Fearless scampers back whimpering to himself.

"No trust. no trust. Knew I couldn't trust them..."

The little Halfling tries to get as far away from it all as he can.

Withdraw


Guy who Rocks in Chair 4

Round 1, Init 18

Cats looks saddened that he can't easily get a really sharp and dangerous implement with which to shave his face and cut back his hair. Those thoughts are pushed out of the way by the commotion.

Cats moves back, trying to climb out of the way of the scuffle.

Withdraw.


Fearless backs away as the two orderlies with York move in on either side of The Mariner and attempt to restrain him.

Improved Grapple + Flanking: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 5 + 2 = 22
Improved Grapple + Flanking: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 5 + 2 = 16

Both get a firm grip on the old man!

Cats gives the fight some space and backs away.

INITIATIVE
Fearless
Orderlies
Cats
Pinkie
York
The Mariner (6 damage - Grappled)
Brother Butterfly
The Twin


Perc +5, AC 20

The sharp elbow stuns the Mariner for a few seconds, then blinking it away a moment later as if blows to the head were not unfamiliar. "What's this all about...", the Mariner states rather than asking for an answer, "Let me go..." he struggles steadily, although not trashing about nor fighting the orderlies. Spotting another cell mate, he tosses the keys over towards the Twin.

Toss: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12


m human AC 17 Perception +12

Pinkie thinking all this chaos is well deserved tries to get in the way without looking like he's trying to get into the way of the orderlies .

Aid another for The Mariner


Pinkie, The Mariner succeeded in taking the keys, so I'm not sure what your aid another is for. Also, you need to roll a check vs DC 10 to grant the +2 bonus.

York's eyes narrow as he notices his ring of keys in The Mariner's hand.

"Hand them..." He begins to demand, but is cut off as they sail by and jingle across the floor, coming to a stop near The Twin. Pointing a finger, he gives a stern warning. "Anyone so much as looks sideways at those and they'll be joining this old bastard upstairs!"

Turning slightly, he calls to the nurse. "Ring the bell and get Campre. Tell him to bring a couple jackets."

The nurse reaches up and pulls a cord, ringing an unseen bell.

INITIATIVE
Cats
Pinkie (aid another check needed)
The Mariner (6 damage - Grappled)
Brother Butterfly
The Twin
Fearless

York
Orderlies


Rough Around the Edges 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC 17; Touch 13; FF 14 | Fort +2; Ref +3; Will +2 | CMD 15 | Initiative +3 | Perception +2 | Sense Motive -1 | Kn. Arc +8 | Spellcraft +5
Eidolon Stats:
HP: 11/11 | AC 21*; Touch 13; FF 18* | Fort +1; Ref +6; Will +3 | CMD 15 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +5 | Kn. Religion +8 | Stealth +8
Resources:
Summon SLA: 5/5 | Spells: 1st: 3/3

The crazed half elf looks wildly around as half of the inmates seem to be shrinking away from the glorious revolution and the other half are not doing much else! "Come on lads! We can be free!" he proclaims as he proudly scoops up the keys.

Turning to Cats and Fearless, The Twin leaps behind them, keeping the orderlies on the other side of this pair. "Strike out! We have their power!" he exults as he holds the jingly keys over his head. "Surely Cats love a ring of keys! They are yours once we are free!" he says, trying to bribe the man.

Move Action to pick up keys; Move Action to move.

Scarab Sages

M Human Cleric of Desna Level 4 AC 15 w/shield. 14 W/O. +7 Perception

This chair is so perfectly comfortable. And I know within the heart of my heart that this melee is going to spill over and onto me and this chair. Do I move out of the way like Fearless and Cats? (deep thinking) No. I just can’t motivate myself to get my butt up and out of this nice chair. Let things unfold how they will. It is Desna’s plan that I am here. Let Her Will be that I do the right things. Like protect the mute woman Mura and Bates; her little charge. Or better yet. Maybe help “Fearless” be –at least temporarily- released from the imprisoning fear that he always seems to have. That is Desna’s path…. To unchain the shackles that bind us. Be those shackles that are material, spiritual…. or like Fearless… in his mind.

who knows, maybe I can somehow get a nice foot massage out of this

Brother Butterfly lowers his upraised hand. Knowing that his attempt at deductive reasoning (their memory loss) has fallen flat. Time for other action. Or in his case, action that doesn’t require moving and letting someone else possibly take his spot. Or more importantly, doesn’t require him moving.

(in a whisper) Oh Desna, I know that even in your great and wonderous travels, you have visited an asylum before. You have seen the mass need that is so very evident. Please grant courage and conviction to Fearless. Please grant your special luck and protection to Mura and Bates.

Praying for Remove Fear or Luck


Guy who Rocks in Chair 4
"The Twin" wrote:
"Surely Cats love a ring of keys! They are yours once we are free!"

Cats looks at the jangly keys, then at The Twin. He looks lost and confused for a moment, trying to find his way to making sense of what is happening.

"No, I just wanted a razor. Keys are for cats," Cats refuses as he edges back.


In answer to his prayers, Brother Butterfly feels a powerful presence pass through him. Nearby a surge of warmth flows over Fearless, and he suddenly feels very unlike himself, or at least the self he has been for the last few hours. A feeling he has felt as long as he can remember is suddenly gone. But another feeling, perhaps even more powerful, asserts itself...

Fearless:
So, fear wasn't really your mental issue, but I like that you've run with it. A remove fear spell will remove any current fears you have, but you are still very paranoid.


Rough Around the Edges 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC 17; Touch 13; FF 14 | Fort +2; Ref +3; Will +2 | CMD 15 | Initiative +3 | Perception +2 | Sense Motive -1 | Kn. Arc +8 | Spellcraft +5
Eidolon Stats:
HP: 11/11 | AC 21*; Touch 13; FF 18* | Fort +1; Ref +6; Will +3 | CMD 15 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +5 | Kn. Religion +8 | Stealth +8
Resources:
Summon SLA: 5/5 | Spells: 1st: 3/3

"Well fine!" he shouts at the hairy man. "You can have all the razors you want once we are free! Cats are free and Cats should be free!" he proclaims loudly, hoping to inspire the man.


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Male Halfling | HP 28/28 | AC 18; TCH 18; FF 15 | Perc +10
Consumables:
Spells (1) 4/4 | Inspiration 2/4 | Tactician 1/1 | Challenge 1/1 | Phrenic 1/1 | Bolts: 50/50; CI 50/50; Silver 50/50 |

GM:
Yup, Paranoia is still there. Though from all I have read paranoia is heavily influenced by irrational fear which leads to paranoia which leads to even more fear. Plus waking up to this mess would be scary.

With his irrational fear subsided Fearless turns around upon hearing the prayer. He goes from scared to angry as he gets in Brother Butterfly's face. "You with them? I'm not a part of this. You are trying to get me into it and get me killed? They are going to drug me and take out my brain I know it. I know it.

He spins around. THEY ARE GOING TO TAKE OUR BRAINS! THEY WANT OUR BRAINS! Fearless points to Brother Butterfly. HE'S HELPING THEM!

Though he is still vocal with questioning everyone around him his hands do shake a bit less.


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The hall was already on edge, and Fearless' paranoid delusions set off a string of replies from other patients.

"Brains! Brains! Brains! Brains!"
"They ain't takin my brains!"
"They already took mine! Put it in a hatbox with one of my kidneys, they did, and shipped it to the King of Taldor."
"I'm the King of Taldor!"
"This isn't going to end well."

Ignoring the ramblings in the hall York stalks The Twin, stepping past Cats and Fearless and setting himself into a low wrestler's crouch.

The orderlies on The Mariner try to throw him to the ground and sit on him.

CMB Grapple to Pin: 1d20 + 5 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 5 = 13
CMB Grapple to Pin: 1d20 + 5 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 + 5 = 30

INITIATIVE - All PCs are up!
Cats
Pinkie (aid another check needed)
The Mariner (6 damage - Pinned)
Brother Butterfly
The Twin
Fearless

York
Orderlies


Guy who Rocks in Chair 4

Round 2, Init 18

loon wrote:
"I'm the King of Taldor."

Wait. That's not the Cat of Taldor, is it? I thought...I thought I knew the Cat.

Cats continues to back up, easing away from the conflict.

Withdraw again.


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Male Halfling | HP 28/28 | AC 18; TCH 18; FF 15 | Perc +10
Consumables:
Spells (1) 4/4 | Inspiration 2/4 | Tactician 1/1 | Challenge 1/1 | Phrenic 1/1 | Bolts: 50/50; CI 50/50; Silver 50/50 |

Fearless rushes to a corner where he can keep a watchful eye on everyone around him. He puts his hands over his head to protect his own brains.

Ha! Halflings don't have brains!

Bluff: 1d20 ⇒ 7

Continue to withdraw

Scarab Sages

M Human Cleric of Desna Level 4 AC 15 w/shield. 14 W/O. +7 Perception

Fearless Wrote: To Brother Butterfly's face. "You with them? I'm not a part of this. You are trying to get me into it and get me killed? They are going to drug me and take out my brain I know it. I know it.

With a calm, diplomatic demeanor, Brother Butterfly replies,
On the contrary, "Fearless" I hope to become your friend. For I am a gentle soul.
If you heard my whispered prayer to Desna, it also asked for the safety of Mura and the boy.
Just like you, I want no part of this anarchy. Nor do I want to be drugged or "sent upstairs".
I just simply want to be a helping hand. A friend amongst all these strangers. I realize these are just words. That is why I prayed for you to have a blessing, as proof of my good will.

Should you need it, come back to me and I can bless you again. Maybe even grant you a bit of Desna's luck and good fortune. Which she is renowned for throughout all of Golorian. The Greatest Traveler Ever (GTE) is known even in this mysterious "island of insanity". If you don’t believe me, ask anyone of the awesome and tender spirit of Desna. They will certainly vouch for it.

Next round when it is my turn, I am preparing to pray for luck. I just don't know my target yet.


Perc +5, AC 20

CMD: 1d20 ⇒ 5

The Mariner looks like a beached sea lion, being barely able wiggle underneath the weight of the orderlies. "My head hurts... I think I'll go home now...


m human AC 17 Perception +12

Pinkie looks at the orderlies and....

"Your right thats what it is...."

jumps on one of the orderlies and starts hugging him.

Yelling "GROUP HUG"

not sure what to add to it but aid another to help the mariner escape: 1d20 ⇒ 15


Rough Around the Edges 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC 17; Touch 13; FF 14 | Fort +2; Ref +3; Will +2 | CMD 15 | Initiative +3 | Perception +2 | Sense Motive -1 | Kn. Arc +8 | Spellcraft +5
Eidolon Stats:
HP: 11/11 | AC 21*; Touch 13; FF 18* | Fort +1; Ref +6; Will +3 | CMD 15 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +5 | Kn. Religion +8 | Stealth +8
Resources:
Summon SLA: 5/5 | Spells: 1st: 3/3

I have no idea if we are supposed to break out yet, but I find this entire scenario hilarious.

The Twin looks on as Fearless and Cats flee to the other side of the room and his face contorts into disdain. "Come back here, you cowards! I will have you strung up for insubordination!" he shouts at the timid creatures.

Seeing that the Mariner is being contained, The Twin grabs for the nearest object and chucks it at the head of the man twisting his compatriot's arms behind his back.

Aid Another to Escape: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

As Pinkie joins in to help, The Twin exultantly cheers. "Huzzah! Another won over to our cause! We can win!"

GM:
Do I know that I am a summoner with an eidolon? Aka, can I have it attack?


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Pinkie and The Twin join in the liberation of The Mariner. Pinkie gets a finger in one orderly's ear, and though he cries out in surprise he doesn't let go. Pinkie goes before The Mariner, and the Mariner rolled bad)

The Twin steps back and grabs a deck of cards from a table where two patients were having a friendly game. With a flick of his wrist the cards spray all over, temporarily blinding another orderly. (The Twin goes after the Mariner, so his bonus applies next round)

"Hey, I was winning..." One of the card players complains in a dull sad voice. The other chuckles, then his eyes roll up and he flops forward. A moment later, snores are heard from him. The sad patient takes the opportunity to peek at the sleeper's cards, and switches a few with his own.

Meanwhile, york leaps at The Twin!

Grapple: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

Grabbing him by the shirt, he pulls him into a wrestler's hold.

"Settle down... settle down!"

The orderlies on The Mariner tighten their grip!

Grapple for nonlethal damage: 1d20 + 5 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 + 5 = 30
Damage: 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Grapple for nonlethal damage: 1d20 + 5 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 + 5 = 19
Damage: 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Crit Confirmation: 1d20 + 5 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 + 5 = 12
Damage: 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

The Mariner's face starts to turn purple, his vision begins to blur.

INITIATIVE - All PCs are up!
Cats
Pinkie
The Mariner (16 nonlethal damage - Pinned) +2 for next CMB from Aid Another
Brother Butterfly
The Twin (grappled)
Fearless

York
Orderlies


Male Halfling | HP 28/28 | AC 18; TCH 18; FF 15 | Perc +10
Consumables:
Spells (1) 4/4 | Inspiration 2/4 | Tactician 1/1 | Challenge 1/1 | Phrenic 1/1 | Bolts: 50/50; CI 50/50; Silver 50/50 |
The Twin wrote:


The Twin looks on as Fearless and Cats flee to the other side of the room and his face contorts into disdain. "Come back here, you cowards! I will have you strung up for insubordination!" he shouts at the timid creatures.

Fearless shakes his head vigorously from side to side.

"He is going to get us all killed! See! See....SEE! His head is going to explode. That's how they get our brains!

The little halfling waggles his finger at the Mariner.

Continuing to stay out of this


Perc +5, AC 20

The Mariner's eyes roll back and things go dark,"Aw feathers..." ::zzZZZzzzzZ::

The cockroach suddenly stands before him, four arms on its hip, "Hey, you're back."

Scarab Sages

M Human Cleric of Desna Level 4 AC 15 w/shield. 14 W/O. +7 Perception

While this is not a push message, I also wanted to send a quick note about how cool this opening stanza is. The Twin said it perfectly.

For my turn, I still want to grant Luck. It is a touch spell. I will use it on whomever is within reach. I'd prefer to give a blessing to Cats or Pinkie but I think they have withdrawn from the area. If they aren't around, the other asylum people from Mura to Wren. I won't bless the Orderlies..

Brother Butterfly stands from the chair, "May Desna protect and give those that seek it a second chance"


Rough Around the Edges 2 | HP: 17/17 | AC 17; Touch 13; FF 14 | Fort +2; Ref +3; Will +2 | CMD 15 | Initiative +3 | Perception +2 | Sense Motive -1 | Kn. Arc +8 | Spellcraft +5
Eidolon Stats:
HP: 11/11 | AC 21*; Touch 13; FF 18* | Fort +1; Ref +6; Will +3 | CMD 15 | Perception +5 | Sense Motive +5 | Kn. Religion +8 | Stealth +8
Resources:
Summon SLA: 5/5 | Spells: 1st: 3/3

@GM: When you critical a grapple roll, even for dealing damage, it is just an auto-success. There is no confirmation and you don't deal critical damage.

The Twin sees the Mariner black out as the two orderlies nearly strangle the man to death while Fearless and (likely) Cats continue to pussyfoot around the room, earning the title of cowards in his mind. "THIS BETRAYAL WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN!" he shouts as York tries to keep the man under control.

Break Grapple: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19


Perc +5, AC 20

What would we do without GMBold. I'm still out though even without the extra damage but avoided lethal.

-Posted with Wayfinder


Guy who Rocks in Chair 4

Round 3, Init 18

"The Twin" wrote:
"THIS BETRAYAL WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN!" he shouts as York tries to keep the man under control.

As Cats continues to scurry away, he wonders who that crazed man is yelling at.

Good thing he's not the cat of me.

Withdraw.


m human AC 17 Perception +12

Pinkie moves away from the orderlies on the mariner and tries to help the Twin before he gets choked out also by trying to punch York in the kidney.

"Get off him you thug

punch/flanking: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 3 + 2 = 14
damage: 1d3 + 1d6 ⇒ (2) + (1) = 3

none lethal

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