Death and Taxes - GM Budd the C.H.U.D.'s Feast of Ravenmoor

Game Master Budd the C.H.U.D.

In life, only two things are inevitable - death and taxes. An investigation into a missing tax collector from Magnimar led our heroes to the isolated village of Ravenmoor, but what they found there was a community dominated by a cult of Ghlaunder, God of Parasites. They also uncovered the identity of the twisted being responsible for the corruption of the town, and learned that this same being has sinister plans for a small, isolated city in the mires of Ustalav. Carrion Hill beckons...

CURRENT MAP - Beneath the Slipper Market...
Map of Carrion Hill
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Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

Warshawski's in Trouble:
I woke up feeling like dwarves had played forge in my head. My mouth tasted like ash. Instinctively, I looked to the left to see what pretty little thing I had brought home last night.

That was a mistake. The room spun as vertigo punished me for daring to move at all. My stomach heaved, threatening to send whatever it was I had drunk back up to spill all over my bed.

Except I wasn't in my bed. Or any bed at all. I was on someone's floor. Someone's filthy, disgusting floor. The air was so thick I wasn't breathing it so much as swallowing it whole. And I was in my armor.

From there, my mind worked backwards. The job. The missing tax collector. The queer little town with hidden secrets. I had been jumped. Captured. Beaten.

And tied up and thrown into a shack with some sort of beastman guard. Happy f+#*ing day.

Right. No use feeling sorry for myself. I had two options. Wait to find out what they wanted or get the hell out of here. Considering they'd already beaten me, I didn't think waiting was the best option.

I did my best to ignore the nausea as I glanced around, looking for a way out of this mess. The raised floorboard was my best option. I kept my eyes on the guard and slowly wormed my way backwards until I was laying atop the misshapen part of the floor. Then I started sawing my bonds back and forth across the edge of it.


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

A few quick answers before I run off to work:

Voyla:
-You can indeed see all the enemies from your current vantage point, aside from the one inside the house. That gives you three areas of interest: the one thug at the front window, the one who had circled around who had been shooting at you earlier, and whatever Calwen's fighting in the brush behind the house- one of which is invisible and the other is staying hidden in the reeds. Pretty significant miss chance on either of them.
-Jumping down the front of the house would be a nasty fall, 20-30 feet or so.
-You can pretty easily get down to the lower edge of the back side of the roof, and you wouldn't even have to jump. You could slide down if you'd like, and then jump down to ground level from there without any difficulties. A simple Acrobatics check, DC 10, ought to do it.

Niklos:
Let's find out if she's stabilized or not.
Stabilization check (Doriv): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
She's stable.

- - - -

Warshawski, meanwhile...:
It does not take a great deal of effort to start tearing into the shoddy, aged ropes at your wrists with the help of the sharpened wood. As you set about your work, you realize that the thing sitting on the porch isn't just whistling a tune; it's whistling the exact same five seconds of tune over and over, each time a perfect replica of the last, like a recording being played back over and over. Exactly like that, actually.

The pressure on your wrists lessens as the rope is cut through, and your hands are free at last. Removing the bindings from your ankles is fairly simple after that, but as you do so, a winged creature flutters down and lands on the porch-thing's shoulder. It's a stirge, and the creature on the porch seems unperturbed by its presence, even offering a hand to scratch the top of the winged pest's head with. Looking out past him, you can see a few of them fluttering about between this little shack and the Chenowitz fields. The creature does not seem to have noticed any movement from you, and as the stirge flaps its leathery wings and flits away, it paws after it for a moment with a clawed hand, like how a child might reach after a passing butterfly.

Glancing around the room again, as your vision continues to clear, you are able to make out scratch marks and odd stains along the floor and walls. Not a pleasant environment.


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

Warshawki's Free! Sort of:
I watched the animal-man and his pet stirge. He reminded me of a simple child. That's the thing about simple children, though. They'll do what they're told. And this one was told to guard me. Without a weapon in my hands, a fight seemed like a short trip off a suicide chasm.

The rope was old. The shack is old. The humidity high. Wood rots in high humidity. Maybe there was a back way out. I whispered to whatever spirits were close by, begging for their help. Then I began my search as quietly as I could.

Using Commune With Spirits to locate "secret" doors. In this case I'm hoping for not so much a secret door as a place where I can sneak through in the back of the hut.

Perception: 1d20 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (1) + (4) + 9 = 14

To help me with the help of the spirits.


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

"Heh heh heh, you guys are like shootin fish in a barrel. Hey buddy, look up here.", Marsh taunts the crossbowman.

1d20 + 5 + 1 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (20) + 5 + 1 + 2 - 1 = 27Oh!
1d20 + 5 + 1 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 5 + 1 + 2 - 1 = 23
3d8 + 6 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (2, 8, 5) + 6 + 6 + 2 = 29

"Ha! Made ya look!"

"Damn . . . Look dead that is."


Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

Bacarov looks down at the blood seeping from the dagger wound. Then his gaze comes back up to the attacker. "You bloody bumpkin. You see your friend burned alive and you choose to bring a knife to this fight?"

He steps backward amid the swirling shadows of his cloak and brings the wand to bear once more. "You'd defend the poison you grow...you'd defend the horror of Robb Bartley's existence? All the lives he took to serve his dark god? For Doriv?"

UMD: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 6 + 1 = 25
Burning Hands: 2d4 ⇒ (1, 2) = 3

As the flames pour from the wand in gouts of red rage, Bacarov shouts, "The justice of Abadar is upon you! Tell me! Do you still serve them?!? Will you burn for them?!?"


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

Voyla realizes she has to help Calwen, so she casts Protection for Evil on herself, and then rolls to the lower edge of the back side of the roof, and then jump down to ground level with an elegant somersault.
Acrobatics Check DC 10 (+4 if jumping from 40' base speed): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

He gets up from cover and immediately realizes it was a mistake. Dramin sees the screaming man and the inferno consuming him, the bear attacking the woman he just fired at, and a now dead horse.

He wonders if it was all worth it.

Yes it was. No, it still is. You're still alive my sweet.

He doesn't know if that tail end in his head was himself or something else and didn't have time to care as he focused on the anatomy of the mob and fired another arrow calmly.

Move Action: Stand Up
Standard Action: The Old Gravity Bow

Attack Roll: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 Point-Blank and Bless
Damage: 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (3, 4) + 7 = 14 Gravity, Point-Blank and Focus

What killed Windmane? Something is there but what...

Free Action: Knowledge (Religion)
Knowledge (Religion): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Dramin, I assume you're targeting whoever's left at this point?


Yup. No mercy.


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

"Hey, wanna hear somethin weird!? There's a circus bear and a little guy handler out there an they're helping us out. Doriv must have been a real b%*~*, even the carnies can't stand her."


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

I'm going to stick all my rolls behind the GM Screen this time. I didn't particularly like having them all out in the middle of the text last time.

GM Screen (No Peeking!):

Dalton, temple sword (Power Attack): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
Damage: 1d8 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Calwen, longsword vs. ???: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
Miss Chance: 1d100 ⇒ 75 hits!
Calwen, longsword damage: 1d10 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12 NICE!

???, RTA vs. Calwen: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
Scorching Ray damage: 4d6 ⇒ (2, 1, 4, 3) = 10

????, #1 vs. Calwen: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30
Sickle damage: 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
????, #2 vs. Calwen: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16 Crit threat
???? Crit Confirm: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 No crit.
Slam damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7 plus Grab CMB: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30
Sneak Attack: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 4) = 8 + Sneak Attack: 2d6 ⇒ (1, 5) = 6

Calwen took 40 damage. Unfortunately, that means she's dead.

- - - -

Round Three Summary (Player Phase)

The halfling Niklos, looming over the fallen Doriv Carmiscu with his bear at his side, assesses the woman's wounds. Somehow, despite having been riddled with arrows, Doriv is still hanging on to some thread of life, and is stable.

Firing down from his perch high above, Marsh bull's-eyes the last man posted at the front of the house as he tries to go for the door- an action that would have proved fruitless anyway, as the door is spiked shut. The arrow pierces him through the top of the head, killing him instantly. Four down.

Bacarov's wand sends out another gout of flames, singing the dagger-wielding man, but not stopping him. Just as the man raises his dagger to swipe at Bacarov a second time, Dramin rises, spins to face them, and lets loose with another empowered arrow. It strikes Bacarov's attacker and pins him to the wall. Five down.

Dramin:
Catching glances of what's happening out back through the windows, you know something invisible is attacking Windmane and now Calwen. You know of many different times of undead that can turn invisible, including ghosts, wraiths, and others... but this is no undead. If anything, it is your knowledge of the arcane that kicks in, and the patterns of slash marks along the unfortunate warhorse's sides suggest something with legs- quite a few of them, and razor-sharp at that. An insect or other arthropod, perhaps? A magical beast, one with spellcasting abilities... Not sure I can give you the name off a 16, but you're on the right track.

Voyla, seeing the danger that Calwen is in below, uses her incredible agility to slide down the sloping roof, rolling and flipping off the awning and landing gracefully in a crouch behind Calwen, who nods appreciatively as she glances over her shoulder. At this distance, she can see a slight distortion in the air past Calwen, suggesting something thrashing about occupying that space. Unfortunately, she can also see that Windmane is certainly dead, a pool of blood spreading around the noble warhorse's fallen form. Through the crushed reeds, she sees another shape- Windmane's killer, a second target. She sees a flashing grin and a familiar face in the instant before that face changes completely into something else... something completely unrecognizable, something undeniably evil.

Dalton, seeing that the tide has turned, steps out through the back door and begins to circle around. He sees the last of the lynch mob coming, crossbow pointed at Voyla and Calwen, and rushes the man. The thug sees the monk coming a moment too late, and Dalton leaps, spins, and in one fell swoop, separates the man's head from his body. That's the last of the lynch mob.

Calwen grits her teeth, fighting back tears at the sight of her longtime partner and companion lying dead in the muck. With a scream, she lashes out with her bastard sword, but this time it hits something. An unearthly shriek tears through the air, and a disembodied, scythe-like limb appears only to go flying through the air, landing in the mud several feet away, trailing greenish blood. Calwen watches it go with a look of dawning realization. "The tracks..." she murmurs, her eyes widening. "This creature- this creature killed Armand!" Calwen has dealt a beastly 12 damage to our mystery monster!

- - - -

Round Four - Enemy Phase

Still hissing in pain, the invisible creature hops backwards, crushing several reeds in the process. Blood still dribbles from its severed limb, though that makes it only slightly more visible. "That's right, elf," a raspy voice speaks. "He screamed as he died, as will you!" With that, a reddish glow begins to gather in the space occupied by the invisible beast, and a ray of glowing energy lashes forth, blasting Calwen. The elven knightess cringes as her armor conducts the heat, and she nearly falls under the assault. By the time the scorching ray abates, Calwen is wavering, though she nonetheless hefts her bastard sword bravely.

Unfortunately, her attention is too diverted to notice the creature that lumbers over Windmane's corpse. With limbs longer than they should be, the vaguely-humanoid shape lifts its gleaming sickle, then swings it around at Calwen's midsection. With a sickening thunk, the sickle pierces Calwen's abdomen just below the breastplate, and she lurches forward, gasping. The sickle tears its way out of her, and as Calwen grasps at her gaping wound, the creature's other, clawed hand streaks forward, crossing the space between them in an instant and engulfing the elf's head in long, leathery fingers. There is a terrible moment of silence, split by an even more terrible snap- and Calwen's bastard sword drops to the ground. She goes limp in the thing's grip, and it pulls her sagging form close to it.

Calwen, in a truly disastrous turn of events, ate forty points of damage this turn. 'Twas meant to be.

As the creature holds Calwen's body in front of it like a prize, the shocked investigators finally get a good look at it- a horrid, featureless thing, naked and leathery, its arms over-long and its head a mosaic of whorls and wrinkles and slits. Three long, tongue-like appendages dance about from one of those slits, lapping at the blood running down Calwen's neck. At the taste of it, its bulbous head begins to twitch rapidly in an unsettling rhythm, and something that sounds like laughter coming from two rooms away bubbles up from within it.

On that even more grim note, Round Four is open to player actions. Yes, unfortunately, both Calwen and Windmane are now dead.

- - - -

Warshawski:
Free now from your bonds, you lower yourself into a trance-like state in search of spiritual aid. Luckily, the area seems to be crawling with them. A ghostly head pokes halfway up through the floor, staring up at you curiously. It rises up, taking a mostly-humanoid shape, though you can see after a moment that it is twisted and distorted. It resembles the creature sitting on the porch, in a way. It smiles at you, then walks to the back of the room. It ducks its head, braces one hand against a spot partway down the wall, and then passes through the wall. After a moment, its head pops back through the wall again, and it seems to gesture toward you, waiting.

- - - -

By the way, when I went back to add the rolls for Dalton's attack into the GM Screen spoiler, it apparently shifted all the numbers around. Unfortunately, it still ends with Calwen getting killed, albeit by a far more horrible margin, but as I had already written my results based on the pre-Dalton numbers, I'm sticking with it. (See? This is why the GM Screen exists!)


Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

Bacarov spares a glance outside but can't make out what Marsh is on about when it comes to a bear and a halfling. Instead he steps over the dead and smoldering body in front of him and heads for the back door. "If he's right and that whore Doriv is down, then follow me. We've got to back Calwem and Dalton..."

He limps towards the back of the house and shouts over his shoulder, "Vinnie! Quit cocking about and get down here! Enemies at the back of the house!"

He emerges from the back door and is dumbstruck by the sight of Calwen's mangled form in the grasp of a horror out of nightmare. Bacarov searches his memory, trying to insert reason where none can exist, trying to make sense of what he's seeing.

Knowledge (planes): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11 nope

He gives himself a shake and raises a hand towards the monstrosity (leather skin) A black bolt of energy surges from his finger and strikes the abomination holding Calwen's lifeless form.

Ray of Sickening: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 4 + 1 = 24
》Fort DC 13 negates
》Duration 3 minutes

It's only at the last moment he sees the inquisitor and calls out. "Voyla!! Get back!" Warshawski...Calwen... Bacarov looks back to the house interior. Sorry, Vinnie...but I need the animal now. "Marsh!! Get out here! Man down! Demons at the gates!"


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

Marsh has a move of 40'

Marsh runs out to the back door and let's fly with an arrow dipped in the Blue Winnis at the thing holding Calwen.

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

"Let it come to us. Until then keep firing. I'll tank it in a moment."


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

Warshawski Escapes!:
I watched the spirit, a dead creature like the man-beast that beat me and the one guarding me, as it showed me the way out. It took me a moment to find the manners to whisper a silent thank you. My stomach still churned with the need to vomit and each bruise these monsters had dealt me felt like a chip in the stone of my sanity.

I moved as quietly as I could, crawling across the floor to the back of the hut. Mimicking the spirit, I worked the board aside and wiggled through and to freedom.

The feel of swamp mud squishing around my bare feet felt disturbingly like I was wading through raw sewage. Smelled like, it too. This swamp was thick with swamp cabbage. Or something worse.

Crouching behind the hut, I focused my senses. I needed to know where there were threats. Where I might find a weapon to fight with, no matter how improvised it might be, and where to go to find the others.

Perception check: 1d20 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (17) + (2) + 9 = 28


Halfling Hunter 4

Niklos pats Duroj upon his neck before reaching down to grab Doriv by her wrists. Wordlessly bidding his companion to take point leading back towards the house - Niklos follows after dragging the fallen yet still breathing cultist.

Moving at Niklos' pace - so 40ft this round. Duroj is 5ft in front of Niklos.


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin keeps thinking of undead, wraiths and spirits, but it is not until he sees the beast he realizes he was entirely wrong.

By then though, even if he knew, it would have been too late to save Calwen.

Another death.
Another soul sent to Pharasma.

And another chance at finding the puzzle's next piece.

He looks upon Calwen's body entranced, and the breath that she lets out. Searching for some sign, some knowledge to glean from the sacrifice.

As much as he would pretend that he was callous, that the logic controlled him, there was some part in his mind that said otherwise. You never asked for forgiveness for the way you acted you know. Thats why you're eying the body, under a pretense of study.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13 The ray attack, hopefully being able to use it to help him pin down what this is.

"Enough!" Dramin screams, his voice faltering and his head shaking.

Move Into a position where he can land a shot on the doppelganger type creature.

Attack the creature with a Smoke Arrow, hopefully it will stick the thing and blind it with smoke. 4 remain
Focused Shot +1 Longbow (Smoke Arrow): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22
Damage: 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (4, 6) + 7 = 17


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

Which "familiar face" does Voyla recognize?
Voyla face gets ashen at seeing Calwen die in front of her.
"Too late! Mother of the night, help her in her journey."
He hears Bakarov's scream, and obeys him unconsciously...
She moves back towards the others...
She throws her bow away, and draws her new Starknife...


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

GM Screen:
???? Fort Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 Fail!

Dalton, Temple Sword: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
Damage: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

- - - -

Round Four Summary:

In the wake of Calwen's shocking death, Bacarov moves as near to the window as he can and fires off a bolt of twisting, pallid energy. It strikes the faceless thing that slew his comrade on the shoulder, and it seem to shrink back under the assault, though it keeps Calwen's body held close to it. It failed its save, so it's sickened for three minutes. Good call, Bacarov!

Marsh, meanwhile, bolts down the stairwell and takes aim through the window as well, firing off a shot. His aim seems true, and indeed it should have found its mark- but the creature pulls Calwen's body into the path of the arrow, which sinks into her breastplate. Something resembling a laugh bubbles up from the creature's throat as it peers over Calwen's shoulder, unharmed.

On the other side of the Kriegler house, Niklos begins dragging Doriv's unconscious body back toward the building, his bear leading the way.

Another arrow is loosed toward the creature that killed Calwen- this one coming from Dramin's magically-enhanced bow. This one, however, meets its target- piercing the creature's free arm and causing it to drop the sickle it had been holding. It staggers backward, grunting in pain, as smoke begins to pour out of the arrow, forming a cloud around it.

Dramin:
You're not certain, but the attack used by the invisible monster against Calwen looked like a Scorching Ray spell. The creature responsible for casting this spell would have to have at least some command of arcane magic of the second tier. That narrows it down... an Aranea, perhaps?

Voyla, hearing Bacarov's order to retreat and somewhat shaken at the horrific scene before her, switches to her Starknife and falls back to the back door of the house.

Voyla:
You are able to piece together the face you saw before the creature took its current form as belonging to none other than Leonard Kriegler, the mayor's younger brother.

Dalton appears stunned at the sight of Calwen's death. After a moment's hesitation, he hefts his temple sword and runs toward the monster as it reels from Dramin's arrow. However, the creature again pulls Calwen's body into the way, and Dalton's hesitation causes him to miss his target.

- - - -

Round Five - Enemy Phase

The reeds behind the Kriegler house begin to rustle as the invisible creature begins to retreat into their cover. The raspy old woman voice calls out something in some vile, inhuman language. The leather-skinned creature shouts something back as it begins to follow, obviously favoring the arm pierced by Dramin's arm.

...Which Bacarov, oddly enough, seems to understand...:
In Aklo: "Fall back, Leonard! We have the spirit-seer. No point in risking further injury before the ritual!"

The faceless thing's reply: "Very well, Weaver, but they will not leave Ravenmoor without paying for the deaths of my children!" It seems to gag a bit as it says this.

The creature hurls Calwen's body at the nearest target- Dalton- who catches the fallen knightess' body but is nearly bowled over by the impact. The creature turns, not bothering to pick up the sickle it dropped, and runs into the reeds- still trailing an ever-thickening cloud of smoke from Dramin's arrow.

They're both trying to escape. There's a chance you might be able to pursue, but ranged attacks might be difficult with the smoke cloud spreading. It acts as the spell fog cloud, stifling ranged attacks and reducing visibility, though the opposite holds true as well- these guys probably can't hit you with any ranged attacks at this point.

- - - -

Warshawski:
Darn good Perception roll there. I feel obligated to get you something off of that result. :)

The moor is every bit as vile as you feared. Slipping through the back wall of the shack is one thing; navigating the grimy, twisting wilds beyond the Chenowitz fields is another. More stirges flit about between the branches of the nearby trees, ropy tendrils of moss hanging down like rope ladders. A few hundred yards past the shack, you see a number of black standing stones similar to the "troll-stones" you saw back in Ravenmoor; they seem to be arranged in a circular pattern in some kind of clearing, another stone laid out horizontally like an altar in its center. Something gleaming and silver is laid out across that stone. Again, it's a bit of a walk, and in the opposite direction of the town, but if you can make it there undetected by whatever might be lurking in the moor, it could be a weapon of some kind.

The stirges don't seem to have noticed you yet, which seems odd, considering that you've got blood on your head. In any case, do you want to chance heading to the circle of stones, or start heading back toward the town?


Halfling Hunter 4

Unaware of what's transpiring on the other side of the house, Niklos continues to drag Doriv inwards with his ursine companion on point.


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

Voyla seems ready to pursue.
"Do we follow them?"


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

"Damnit!"

Marsh sees what the creature could do to shield itself from his arrows and it was trying to escape. Following it would be risky, but that smoke arrow would act as a beacon for a short while and Bacarov had obviously affected it with his dark ray. Now might be the best and only chance to catch the thing at a disadvantage.

"This might be our one chance a**+~@~s! Make it count!"

The beast was hopefully burdened carrying the armored knight in its claws. Marsh have it his all and charged the beast as it turned to flee. He let his fighting spirit flow through him.

"A hundred an'ten percent!"

He tore Masher from its carrier praying that it's cold iron spiked head wouldn't fail him as he swung it as hard as he could to get as much reach as possible on Calwen's murderer.

1d20 + 7 + 1 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 7 + 1 + 2 - 1 = 25

1d10 + 6 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 6 + 3 + 1 = 19

Miss chance: 1d100 ⇒ 82

"Take that!"


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

Warshawski in Survival Mode:
Something flashed from inside the circle of troll stones in the distance while, all around me, stirges hovered like vultures. Why hadn't they noticed me? Why weren't they attacking me? The stirges were clearly in league with my attackers.

Which made me wonder about the boy back in town. Made me wonder about everyone. Did I loan my sleeve of many garments to a sweet girl who wanted to see the world? Or a murdering she-beast?"

If I made it back to town I might find the others. Or I might be jumped and murdered. If I went to the stone circle, I probably would be murdered.

Cursing inwardly, I started marching through the disgusting marsh toward the troll stones. Maybe I'd find a weapon. Or intel. Or something to make this whole damn experience worth it.


Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

"This monster's life ends here! Now!" Bacarov snarls in response to Voyla's question. He stalks out if the house to come around the right side of Marsh, withdrawing a pouch from his satchel and heaving it at Calwen's killer. "This demonspawn goes nowhere!"

The pouch spirals in the air, spider whips of drying adhesive spilling from the opening, and plunges into the growing cloud of smoke.

Tanglefoot Bag: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 4 + 1 = 24 (ranged touch)
Rounds it Holds: 2d4 ⇒ (1, 2) = 3
Miss Chance: 1d100 ⇒ 66 >50% hits
(Hopefully his -2 to saves helps)

Eyes glowing with a darkened blue, anger seeping into his bones like cold-fire, Bacarov bellows a challenge switching languages in instinct as he theorizes on his enemies. "Sehol tud futni! Nincs lyuk elég mély, hogy elrejtse neked !! Te megsebesült, és kaptam az illatod, állatok! Majd levadászlak, mint a disznók vagytok! És mi fog ölni!!"

Aklo:
"There is nowhere you can run! No hole deep enough to hide you!! You're wounded and I've got your scent, animals! We'll hunt you down like the pigs you are! And we will kill you!!"

Intimidate: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

Tanglefoot Bag info:

Price: 50 gp; Weight: 4 lbs.
WEAPON
Price: 50 gp; Proficiency: Ranged Weapons; Range: 10 ft.; Special: Entangle;
DESCRIPTION
A tanglefoot bag is a small sack filled with tar, resin, and other sticky substances. When you throw a tanglefoot bag at a creature (as a ranged touch attack with a range increment of 10 feet), the bag comes apart and goo bursts out, entangling the target and then becoming tough and resilient upon exposure to air. An entangled creature takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls and a –4 penalty to Dexterity and must make a DC 15 Reflex save or be glued to the floor, unable to move. Even on a successful save, it can move only at half speed. Huge or larger creatures are unaffected by a tanglefoot bag. A flying creature is not stuck to the floor, but it must make a DC 15 Reflex save or be unable to fly (assuming it uses its wings to fly) and fall to the ground. A tanglefoot bag does not function underwater.

A creature that is glued to the floor (or unable to fly) can break free by making a DC 17 Strength check or by dealing 15 points of damage to the goo with a slashing weapon. A creature trying to scrape goo off itself, or another creature assisting, does not need to make an attack roll; hitting the goo is automatic, after which the creature that hit makes a damage roll to see how much of the goo was scraped off. Once free, the creature can move (including flying) at half speed. If the entangled creature attempts to cast a spell, it must make a concentration check with a DC of 15 + the spell's level or be unable to cast the spell. The goo becomes brittle and fragile after 2d4 rounds, cracking apart and losing its effectiveness. An application of universal solvent to a stuck creature dissolves the alchemical goo immediately. Crafting this item is a DC 25 Craft (alchemy) check.


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

Voyla hears Sebastian command and almost at the same instant she jumps forward towards the creatures, charging at the visible enemy.
She can charge 80'
Charge Attack +1 Starknife (+1 Divine Favor, +2 Charge): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Damage +1 Starknife (+1 Divine Favor): 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Dramin didn't expect the monster to begin running.

Bloody arrows. Think ahead next time.

He is self deprecating but it doesn't stop him as he fires.

Miss Chance: 1d100 ⇒ 4
+1 Longbow: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24 Assuming its out of Point-Blank Range even with a Move Action
Damage: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (5, 6) + 3 = 14 Can't focus shot, can't Point Blank

Though he suspects he doesn't hit it in the smoke.


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Marsh, although I'm not entirely sure that you're close enough to reach the retreating monsters from where you were at the end of last round, we've gone as far as the current map can take us... and into the REALM OF THE IMAGINATION! ...So I'm going to allow it. (Also, note, he isn't carrying Calwen anymore- he threw her at Dalton at the end of last round, just before running into the reeds.) You guys actually have a decent chance of taking these guys out, but I will warn you ahead of time, particularly if you're going into melee range, that these guys hit hard and are built (or re-built by yours truly, in this case) for tag-team combat, and you're also all going into the reeds- difficult terrain from hereon out. Understood? That said, the dice will fall where they fall, for you guys' benefit or otherwise.

GM Screen:
????, Fort Save: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (16) + 5 - 2 = 19
??? RTA vs. Marsh: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
Holy Crap! Crit Confirm?: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 No crit. O_O
Damage if hits: 4d6 ⇒ (2, 6, 4, 3) = 15
???? Slam #1 vs. Marsh: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19 Hits.
Slam #2: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Grapple: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

- - - -

Round Five - Player Phase

As Marsh and Voyla charge toward the faceless monster, Bacarov hurls a tanglefoot bag. It arcs overhead, landing at the feet of the creature, and bursting into a cloud of sticky goo. The creature leaps out of the way of most of it, avoiding being glued to the floor, but the substance nonetheless sticks to its legs, and to the surrounding reeds, slowing the creature's retreat just long enough for Marsh and Voyla to close in on it.

Masher comes barreling down on the beast, nearly caving its chest in as Marsh strikes a solid blow; however, the strange texture of its skin seems to reduce the damage somewhat. Heavy Flails are considered Bludgeoning damage, which this thing is somewhat resistant to; luckily, you still hit like a truck. Voyla agilely swipes her Starknife at the creature a moment later, but even as it reels under the force of Marsh's blow, it ducks back, narrowly avoiding the holy weapon's blade. The creature seems to be panicking somewhat, perhaps intimidated slightly by Bacarov's taunting in that eerie language. Dramin attempts to finish the creature off with another arrow, but the long range coupled with the smoke billowing from his previous projectile causes him to miss. Dalton, having lowered Calwen's body to the ground, shouts to the others: "Hold them there! I'll cut off their retreat!" With that, his legs become like a blur as he dashes into the reeds, looking to circle around from the other direction.

On the other side of the house, oblivious to what is going on in the fields, Niklos continues to drag Doriv's barely-living body back toward the Kriegler manor.

Since we're now in Theater of the Mind mode, I have to decree that Marsh and Voyla are not able to flank this round. You may be able to set that up next round, however.

- - - -

Round Six - Enemy Phase

In the brush nearby, the reeds rustle as the invisible creature approaches to aid its struggling ally- its greater invisibility spell finally beginning to wear off. A horrid shape begins to flicker into sight as it draws near. A reddish glow builds at the spider-like creature's eerily human mouth, and after a moment, a beam of red-hot energy similar to that which scorched Calwen fires toward Marsh, the reeds between the two points bursting into flame. The beam strikes the big man fully in the side, burning flesh and clothing alike. Marsh, you've been hit for 15 damage. It almost critted you. That would've been bad if it had confirmed. O_O

The faceless monster realizes that it has no hope of escape in its current condition, and chooses to stand and fight, disoriented and wounded as it is. Its heavy limbs swipe at the already-wounded Marsh, who ducks the first, only to be struck heavily about the head by the second, and the monsters fingers close around his neck and shoulder immediately after the impact, holding Marsh fast. Worse, Marsh feels a strange stinging and suckling upon his neck as his blood is drawn directly through the skin into the faceless monster. Ouch! Marsh takes another 8 damage and is grappled, then blood drained for 1 point of CON damage. The creature laughs in Marsh's face, in spite its wounds, and says in warped Common as its three tongues lash about: "Ready to join your lady friend, Vinnie? I can call you that, or anything else polite, if I prefer, right?" The voice sounds eerily similar to that of Leonard Kriegler.

Status ailments may have saved Marsh's bacon this round. Still, 23 damage is nothing to sneeze at- Marsh, please do be careful. Players are up for Round Six! Niklos, you should be close to the front of the Kriegler house by now; feel free to treat next turn as if you're practically on the doorstep.

- - - -

Warshawski:
Trudging through the muck, you are thankful that the ground becomes somewhat more solid and dry as you approach the circle of troll-stones. The stirges overhead flit about with the same eerie nervous energy that one might expect from a hummingbird crossed with a mosquito, but do not approach; as you draw closer, you see that suspended within the branches of the trees are some sort of grotesque, fleshy sacs that seem to pulsate, like organs beating in the open air; the stirges crawl in and out of these sacs, occasionally probing a particularly thick bit with their needle-sharp proboscises.

You feel the presence of a spiritual entity almost immediately as your feet fall upon the hardening earth, as if it radiates from below and from within the great stones. You cannot tell if this is a holy place or an unholy one; but there is no doubt that it is a place of worship, a place where some sort of strange rituals happen. It reminds you of the mound in the center of the Chenowitz fields; you thought you saw a troll-stone sitting in the center of that, too. What, then, is the purpose of this little shrine, hidden away in the twisted moors behind the old shack?

As you draw closer, you see that a number of items have been strewn about the area, and your spirit lifts somewhat as you recognize a few of them as your personal belongings. Your hand of the mage lies unceremoniously at the feet of the central stone, and the glimmering object that lies upon it at first seems to be your alchemical silver dagger... but not quite. It appears to be of even finer make, made of elven mithril rather than coated in alchemical silver, and is immediately noticeable as being of masterwork quality. It has the look of a ritual dagger, though it seems perfectly functional. There is no telling if it is magical or not.

The rest of your things might be scattered about here, or might not. Want to give me another Perception check?


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

At seeing the horrid creature Voyla lets a whisper out.
"Desna protect us!"
She takes a step back and throws the Starknife towards the creature holding Marsh, trying to cut the appendage and free her ally.
"Let him go abomination!"
+1 Returning Starknife Attack Roll (+1 Point Blank Shot +1 Divine Favor): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19
+1 Returning Starknife Damage Roll (+1 Point Blank Shot +1 Divine Favor): 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
I am perfectly willing to drop the damage in exchange of freeing Marsh, if the DM allows.


Halfling Hunter 4

Dumping the body of Doriv on the doorstep of the house unceremoniously, Niklos narrows his eyes at the lack of activity upon his side of the house. With ears open he listens...
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19
...catching fragments of the sound of battle filtering through the air. Patting his ursine companion he bits Duroj follow him carefully around... redrawing his steel as he does so.

40ft move around the house towards the noise.


Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

"Hold on, Vinnie!" Bacarov calls out. He raises the wand of burning hands, aiming it at the revealed monstrosity as he maneuvers for a clear line. "But first, fire for fire!"

UMD: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 6 + 1 = 15 ranged touch
Damage: 3d4 ⇒ (4, 4, 4) = 12

Fire spreads across the reeds around the spider-like creature, then fans towards it. "Dramin, Dalton, assault the spider! It is the most dangerous! Voyla, Vinnie, finish that fiend while it's still weakened and hobbled!"


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

Warshawski in the Stone Circle:
How big are the fleshy sacs? People sized?

The hair on the back of my neck wasn't just sticking up. The hair on the back of my neck was attempting to flee my neck and launch itself into the cosmos. Foreboding seemed too tame a word for this place. That altar looked just about Warshawski sized. I had an inkling of why they had kept me alive.

On the other hand, some of my stuff was here. I grabbed my hand of the mage and slung it back around my neck. Who was I to talk about creepy when I wore a mummified hand as a necklace?

Feeling more optimistic, I searched the area for my other possessions.

Perception check!: 1d20 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (10) + (5) + 9 = 24

Assuming I find a few items...

As I slunk around the troll stones, gathering my things I whispered to the spirits. I wanted to know what that dagger was. I wanted to know what it was for and how much magic it possessed.

I'm employing a second use of 'Commune with Spirits' to cast Identify on that dagger. I have 4 uses left.


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

Base HP 27+6 raging= 33hp- 1 con=30 hp -23 damage= 7 hp left . . . I'm solid! Right!?

Since I am on an extended 1x analog connection, I need a rules check. Since I am grappled I think I can't use my two handed weapon, but I can use one handed or light weapons right? I've got dual wielding so can I use that? Also does it seem the monster is just resistant to bludgeoning? Or does it seem he is resistant to the arrows and slashing he has taken as well?

Since we aren't using attacks of opportunity I think tactically it would be bad for Marsh to try and break the hold because that would be his move for the round then leave him open to get struck again.

Hopefully we can just bring the heat!


Halfling Hunter 4

When grappled you can take no actions that require two hands. So you can attack with a one handed weapon, but would not be capable of dual wielding.

Grappled:
A grappled creature is restrained by a creature, trap, or effect. Grappled creatures cannot move and take a –4 penalty to Dexterity. A grappled creature takes a –2 penalty on all attack rolls and combat maneuver checks, except those made to grapple or escape a grapple. In addition, grappled creatures can take no action that requires two hands to perform. A grappled character who attempts to cast a spell or use a spell-like ability must make a concentration check (DC 10 + grappler's CMB + spell level), or lose the spell. Grappled creatures cannot make attacks of opportunity.


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

I hope Voyla can free him... I visualize her cutting the creature's appendage off!


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Burning Hands doesn't require a Touch Attack Mr. Inspector, just a Reflex save on the poor saps part! @Budd is the smoke still obscuring the "Leonard" and the others?

Dramin sees the invisibility wear off and the creature appear. The webs. Never anything good from them. He looks upon it but when he hears the sounds of battle he turns around to see Marsh getting grappled and nearly cut clean by the rays.

This will not happen again.

Move to a 30 foot position for maximum injurization on the spider
Focused Shot on the Spider: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
Damage: 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (5, 4) + 7 = 16

Try and try again if you allow it, now that he can see the creature.

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

Maybe he was rolling Use Magic Item to use the wand?


Ah mislabeled! My bad! Thats why I have no Perception ;D


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

I was confused about that, too. ;)

Also, if you're wondering why I took so long to post, it's... uh... I fell asleep. Sorry. Answer time!

Voyla: I'm always open to throwing in not-necessarily-RAW effects in battle at my whim for the sake of cinematic action; see Leonard dropping his sickle earlier when Dramin got that burly shot in on him with the arrow, or Calwen hacking off one of the spider-thing's legs. Let's say that your starknife didn't cut his hand off entirely, but it did slice off a few of its rubbery fingers, and Marsh can add +5 (equal to the amount of damage you caused) as a circumstance bonus to whatever check he tries to make to escape the grapple, if he so chooses.

Niklos, coming around the side of the house, you should be able to see some of what is going on back there; Calwen and Windmane's bodies, flashes of spells going off, and a whole lotta shouting in Aklo. Safe to say you should be able to enter the battle proper this turn.

Marsh: Niklos has the right of it- you can't attack with Masher right now. Since you have Quick Draw, you could conceivably drop your flail and draw one of your light weapons if you wanted to try to attack him instead of breaking free. Your call. I should go ahead and warn you that he'll keep sapping your CON every round that you're grappled, so bear that in mind; you guys have caused him a solid chunk of damage, however. Also, yes, it seems that only bludgeoning weapons face resistance in this case; Voyla's starknife and Dramin's arrow caused full damage. Perhaps your hatchet?

Dramin (Knowledge Results):
Of course you can check again, since this is your first real look at her. ;) The spider-like creature's appearance confirms the theory that had been bubbling up in your mind. You've heard of creatures like this- spider-like shapeshifters called Aranea. Not terribly strong, but wily, and skilled at magic; this one seems even stronger in that field than those you had heard of, since she seems to have access to even more powerful spells than the norm. They can also secrete a tough, sticky webbing. They have no weaknesses, but you know of one biological oddity they possess; their brain is located in a lump of tough tissues on their back, not in their heads.

With those answers in place, Marsh can finalize his actions for this round, and I'll post the summary in the morning.

- - - -

Meanwhile, Warshawski...:
The sacs seem to be, on average, smaller than human-sized. Their sizes and shapes do vary quite a bit, though.

Searching around the area a bit, you reach two conclusions: that your captors must have thrown some of your stolen gear around back here in a hurry, and that they did indeed have some sort of sinister thing planned for you at this weird stone altar. Perusing the area, with your eyes peeled for any more of your belongings, you find your old ioun torch lying half-buried in a puddle of mud; wiping it off, it seems to still function. The rest of your search proves unfruitful.

As for the dagger, you loom over it and begin to commune with the spirits in hopes of learning the weapon's properties. As you focus your mind and attune yourself to the spirits, you feel their presence converging on you. You hear whispers in your mind, telling tales of a weapon older than Ravenmoor itself, a ritual dagger used in rites dedicated to old gods, when elves still roamed these lands- in days before human settlers flooded forth into Varisia to found Riddleport and Magnimar. The most ancient of the spirits hiss accusations of blasphemies and atrocities committed on this sacred ground, and the twisted perversions acted out by inhuman things upon these stones. The dagger, they say, calls out to be purified; it calls out for a worthy hand to steal it away from the children of the Gossamer King.

It's a +1 mithril dagger. It may have some other properties as well, but those properties are dormant at this time. It seems they may "wake up" with the dagger's continual use.


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

Chud, I double checked, Niklos is indeed right and in Pathfinder rules you can make any attack when grappled as long as it is one handed. The small or light weapon rule was 3.5.

Explaination Quote:
Remember also, you’re grappled, so you can’t move and you can’t do anything that requires two hands. (There’s other penalties and hinderances, but nothing else that's barred.) Also note that grappling doesn’t require two hands, it’s just harder to do if you don’t have two free hands.

So, when you’re grappled, you can still:

•make an attack (as long as it’s not a two-handed weapon)
•cast a spell or activate a spell-like ability (as long as you succeed a concentration check)
•activate a supernatural ability
•do almost anything else (as long you don’t move or use two hands!)

Again, there are penalties (see the grappled condition), but your options don’t evaporate. In addition to your normal options, you can attempt to Break, Escape, or Reverse the grapple. These are options only the Secondary Grappler has, all are standard actions, and none provoke an attack of opportunity.

Grappled Condition:
Grappled

A grappled creature is being restrained by another creature, trap, or effect.
–4 penalty to Dexterity.
–2 penalty on all attack rolls
-2 penalty on combat maneuver checks, except those made to grapple or escape a grapple.
Can take no action that requires two hands to perform.
Cannot make attacks of opportunity.
A grappled character that attempts to cast a spell must make a Spellcraft check (DC 15 + the spell’s level) or lose the spell.

"Pound sand Leonard and don't try ta kiss me again you tri-tongued sonoffab~&%$! I'm not that kinda girl!"

Marsh draws his masterwork longsword and tries to burry it to the hilt into his attackers abdominal area then yank it upward with everything he's got.

"All or nothing a%~&$&+s!"

1d20 + 7 + 1 - 2 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 7 + 1 - 2 - 1 = 21
1d8 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 2 = 14

"You never really did pay Rob a visit for the mayor did you? Yer not even his brother I bet."

I am guessing no one is able to help me get a flanking bonus and this thing is not human blooded right?


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Groovy. Do as you will, sir!


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

Warshawski and the Mystery of the Stone Circle:
I listened as the spirits whispered secrets about the dagger and spoke of the pure spirit needed to free the weapon from some horrible corruption.

Was I a pure spirit? Hell if I knew. But I wasn't going to leave a weapon behind when I was stuck in a swamp full of enemies.

I touched my Hand of the Mage and willed the dagger over towards me. No dice. I cursed my stupidity as I remembered, the damn thing doesn't work on other enchanted objects. I'd have to risk the altar being trapped the old fashioned way.

With my Hand of the Mage around my neck and my ioun torch in my pocket, I creeped over to the altar and walked around it, searching for some sort of trap.

Perception using Trapfinding ability: 1d20 + 1d6 + 10 ⇒ (10) + (4) + 10 = 24

If there IS a trap:

Disable Device: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

If there is a trap and I fail the Disable Device check.

Reflex Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

No matter what happens, Warshawski is grabbing the dagger if she can.


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

Aye, Marsh- nobody's in flanking position with you for that blow, I'm afraid, and ol' Leonard is indeed not human-blooded.

GM Screen:
??? Reflex Save: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15
Dalton, Temple Sword: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19 miss
Leonard, Slam #1 vs. Marsh: 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (4) + 7 - 2 = 9 miss
Leonard, Slam #2 vs. Voyla: 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (11) + 7 - 2 = 16 hits, for 1d6 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (3) + 4 - 2 = 5 damage

- - - -

Round Six Summary - Player Phase
Did I screw up the numbering of the rounds? My notes have us on round seven, but... whatever!

Voyla acts quickly, throwing her starknife at the faceless thing that had once appeared to be Leonard Kriegler in hopes of freeing Marsh. Her spinning blade slashes through flesh and tendon, separating two grasping fingers and weakening the monster's grip, but it holds Marsh fast.

Niklos, having finally dragged the unconscious Doriv Carmiscu to the front door of the Kriegler house, dumps his captive and begins circling around the house in hopes of understanding the strange sounds coming from back there; Duroj growls as they approach the corner. In the patchy reeds behind the house, Niklos sees the body of an elven knightess lying in the grass, blood-soaked and obviously dead. Just past her, he can see the team that Doriv's lynch mob had intended to slaughter fighting for their lives against... well, they're not common townies with torches and pitchforks, that's for sure. One appears to be a leather-skinned, faceless monster with too-long arms, the other an enormous spider. Perhaps it's the tall reeds blowing in the wind, or perhaps it's the cloud of smoke billowing around them, but the whole thing seems so surreal- like a nightmare come to life right before his eyes.

Bacarov, after issuing his orders to Dramin and Dalton, turns his wand against the now-revealed spider-thing. It leaps agilely away from the wave of fire, singed by the flames but escaping the full brunt of the attack. However, before she can laugh at Bacarov's effort, one of Dramin's enhanced arrows slams into her thorax, drawing an all-too-human-sounding cry of pain and anger. "I will remember that, child!" the spider shrieks. Dalton, having circled around behind, comes charging out of the brush with his temple sword held high- but the spider moves too quickly, nimbly avoiding his attack.

Marsh, unable to wield Masher effectively in the grip of the Leonard-thing, drops his demon-headed flail to the ground and rips the longsword from its sheathe, then plunges it into the creature's gut. It grunts in pain and nearly doubles over, but keeps its grip on Marsh nonetheless- though blood begins to seep from the slit-like opening in its "face" where the tongues originate.

- - - -

Round Seven - Enemy Phase

"How little you know..." "Leonard" sputters, his voice grossly distorted, as if being forced through a throat better acclimated to a different tongue. "You did us all a favor by killing Bartley." His grip tightens. "Long have I desired his daughters. After you die, I will have the younger one. What beautiful children we will make..." He attempts to reel Marsh in for a headbutt, but the big man is able to duck his head out of the way, only feeling a momentary sting as the tongues whip past. You avoided taking any more damage, Marsh, but you do lose one more point of CON due to continued blood drain.

But "Leonard" is not finished yet. His other arm slashes out toward Voyla, stretching unnaturally as it sweeps forth, taking her by surprise. The creature strikes her with a back-handed blow that sends a thick string of blood flying from her mouth. Voyla, you take 5 damage. However, the blow is not as powerful as it could have been; the creature seems to be slowing down.

The spider, on the other hand, is far from finished. It shouts something in Aklo at "Leonard" as it dances away from Dalton's sword.

Bacarov speaks that!:
"Leonard, your pride will be the end of you! We must fall back, use their seer as a hostage! Snap the man's neck and be done with it!"

It immediately shrinks back from its attackers, skittering through the reeds. As it goes, it snatches up a wooden pole that had been standing amidst the reeds; attached to the top of the pole is a very familiar scarf, one belonging to the missing Warshawski without a doubt; the familiar razor-sharp blades sewn into the end gleam in the fading sunlight. The creature rushes through the reeds away from the battle, carrying the pole with it. It is withdrawing further into the wilds. Players are up!

- - - -

Warshawski:
You don't see any traps- not that it's much of a relief- and reach down for the dagger.

As your fingers curl around the hilt of the weapon, you feel it practically pulsing with some sort of power. You turn it over in your hands; it is light enough that you're sure you could wield it effectively, and its blade is very keen.

As you turn, however, one spirit in particular stands before you. It glows white, dressed in long, tattered robes. The telltale pointed ears of an elf extend from the sides of its face, which seems obscured, androgynous; a crown or circlet upon its head is topped with a pair of antlers, creating a striking silhouette.

Its voice fills your head, soft, but firm, commanding.

This blade must be purified. The blood of the defilers must be spilled. Too long have we watched helplessly the horrors unfolding upon this land. You have a gift. You have one foot in our world. Through you, our vengeance can come to fruition. Through you, we may strike down the servants of the Gossamer King, and the Dancer in the Dark that brought him to this place. You must kill her if this world is to survive. Left to her own devices, she will call down things far more terrible than the Gossamer King that reigns over this moor.

It pauses for a moment, as if sizing you up.

Yes. You will suffice.

It steps forward, and you feel a chill climb up your spine- and then it is gone, as are all the other spirits. The chill within you turns suddenly to warmth.

What could this mean? ;)


Human Barb 1/Rgr 2/Rog 2 HP 41 AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 Fort +6, Ref +8, Will +1 Init +4 Perception +9 Sense Motive +7 Evasion

Marsh is at 1 hp and will drop to -5 hp when he falls out of rage at the beginning of his next turn.

"F+$+ guys! Way to leave me hangin on the flank. Don't matter much now I guess."

Marsh was barely conscious and hanging on the ropes. The old pit fighter turned guardsman refuses to give up or retreat, but he knew he was close to death and felt his consciousness leaving him. His tank was almost empty.

However, the abomination called Leonard had thrown a match into the tank igniting the fumes. The thought of the abused young girl in the arms of this thing and the cultists gives Marsh one last surge.

"Hear that Bacarov! This guy is gonna make my death worth somethin. Now you can say somethin nice about me and actually mean it. Heh, heh. You're always my brother man. <<<ugh!>> Leonard . . . it's time for both of us to go."

If I am reading the rules right he takes a -4 to his dex as well so I hope to god this works for a critical

In a flash Marsh drops his longsword and draws forth the beautiful, but worn and aged Main Gauche from his belt. As he draws it and readies for his strike a blue lace ribbon flutters in the wind before marsh plunges it into his foe.

1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 7 + 1 = 27
1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 7 + 1 = 14

2d6 + 8 ⇒ (6, 5) + 8 = 19

Through blood stained teeth Marsh chokes out.

"Daddy's comin home to his little ladies."


Female Human Investigator (Spiritualist) 3, Medium 2 || HP 33/33 | AC 15 | T 12 | FF 14 | Fort + 2 | Ref + 5 | Wil + 9 | CMD 15 | Init +2 | Per + 10 (+12 vs surprise) | Sense Motive + 10 | IP 3/3 | Influence 0

Warshawki and the Spirit of Vengeance:
The elves had lived in this land long before humans. How long ago? Centuries? Millenia? It didn't matter. They were here but then we came. We came and destroyed it. Corrupted it. No wonder Calwen always seemed so sad deep underneath her bluster and seduction.

I gripped the dagger tightly. What had happened? I wasn't sure. But, despite my bruises. Despite my pains. Despite the horror I'd endured I was sure now. Ashava had guided me to this point. Here were spirits trapped in the twilight between this world and the next and I was the instrument that could deliver them to their rest.

I began marching toward town. I had a date with the Dancer in the Dark and the gods help anyone who got in my damn way.


Oracle (lvl 5) | HP 30/30 | AC:19 (23 CoD), T:12, F:15 | CMD:15, CMB:+3 | Save F+1, R+3, W+5 (+4 vs Illusions, Disguises, Divinations) | Init:+3 | Perc: +9 (DV 60ft) || Wands CLW 25/50 || Spells: lvl 1 (6/7) | lvl 2 (4/5)

Time slows. Echoes swirling about him like ghosts in a fog. He sees the spider creature leap away and disappear into the clouds of his vision. The words she speaks...they suddenly become clear in his head.

To his right, his friend sinks into the type of talk they'd both heard in their line of work. The spoken passions of a man seeing into the darkness of his own freshly dug grave.

No...too much...too fast...control what you can, when you can...

"RUN YOU FILTHY DEMON WHORE!!" He draws a second wand from its holster and points it at the mass of blood and flesh and sinew that is Marsh and the distorted beast that was Leonard Kreigler. "THERE WILL BE NO HOSTAGES!! NO EXCHANGES!!" He triggers the wand and warm blue and violet energies arc outwards and slam into Marsh.

Cure Light Wounds: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

"Dramin, Dalton this one doesn't escape or survive!" He points at the monstrosity wrestling with Marsh. "Calwen was the first of us to die...by the gods she will be the last." His eyes pour over the book of blood written upon the elf's body...over Marsh's.

Bacarov maintains his distance from the melee and turns back to where the demon had fled. "DO YOU HEAR ME DEMON WHORE?!?!" He snarls, eyes wide with rage. Tendrils of blue fire whisping from their corners. "I'LL PURGE THIS WHOLE VILLAGE TO SEE YOU DEAD!! YOUR PLANS ARE AT AN END WHORE OF GHLAUNDER!! NO SHELTER!! NO SANCTUARY!! YOU WILL ALL BURN!!"


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

Voyla is pushed away by the hit she receives, but she ignores her wound and makes a cartwheel to get back in position and catch her returning starknife before it flies away. She follows the movement of the starknife, roll on her axis, and throws it again...
In case Marsh didn't kill the Leonard
... towards Leonard.
"I told you to let him go!"
She keep trying to release Marsh.
-------------------------------------------------
I case Marsh killed Leonard.
She throws it towards the the escaping spider.
"You won't escape! Justice won't be denied!"
She then rolls towards her bow, in order to pick it up next round.
-------------------------------------------------
+1 Returning Starknife Attack Roll (+1 Point Blank Shot +1 Divine Favor): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
+1 Returning Starknife Damage Roll (+1 Point Blank Shot +1 Divine Favor): 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Point Black Shot bonuses only against Leonard, as I think the spider would be too far away.


Halfling Hunter 4

Taking in the spectacle as he rounds into free view Niklos is driven to slight pause... while the exchange in the village had given him reason to think that something was amiss... it was a large jump from a common lynch mob to whatever that was. The flood of words and feeling wafting across to his ears only deepened the unease... however it also steeled a resolve. A simple choice... with or against the horror, if the rest of the village was in league with the monstrosities... then the Magnimarites were to be his only chance at survival.

These feelings and an unconscious desire to seek redress for the butchered upon the ground drove his request of his ursine companion "Duroj... omorî!" The bear's muscles tense... but there are a few moments hesitation... the sight driving him to pause. However the kinship with Niklos wins out and the bear drives growling and intent filled towards the conflict... charging headlong at the chosen foe and ready to strike out with heavy claw...

Charge for Duroj if possible, and run action for Niklos to keep up alongside.

Charge Attack:
Charging Power Attack Claw: 1d20 + 6 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (20) + 6 + 2 - 1 = 27 for 1d3 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 2 = 8 Counts as either bludgeoning or slashing - whichever is more favorable
Confirm?: 1d20 + 6 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 2 - 1 = 10 for 1d3 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 2 = 8


Male Human Fighter 2 / Wizard 3 - AC 17 (Mage Armor) | Flat 14 (Mage Armor) | Touch 13 | Fort +6 | Ref +4 | Will +3 | Init +4 | Perc +0 | Prescience 6/6

Sorry Canadian Holiday

Dramin looks at the man dying and the aranea escaping.
The choice isn't much of one at all really.

+1 Longbow into Leonard: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15
Damage: 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (6, 4) + 7 = 17

Point-Blank, Precise, Moving as appropriate. Marsh shouldn't be at risk here due to Precise Shot.

There is something in the air, a sort of tiredness. The horror of the whole situation and the death of Calwen doesn't even phase him right now. Dramin's exhaustion is palpable, but he knows that if this arrow strikes it will kill his foe with no questions.

Its almost funny, what would have been a simple story, an easy journey has become something out of a drunken dwarf's ramblings. So much so that he barely notices the giant bear and the halfling that showed up.

When he hears the curses coming from Bacarov though, his tired smile fades and he gets wrenched back to reality. A place where there is too much blood where there should have been none; and the madness of it all starts to eat the tiredness, growing bigger each moment.


Enormous Radioactive Monster - - hp tons/tons - - AC nuh-uh I got forcefield

At last!

Round Seven - Player Phase

Marsh feels his life force being sucked away as "Leonard" continues to suck blood out through his skin and squeezes his throat tighter and tighter. Desperate, he draws another weapon- his Main Gauche, and drives it with all his remaining strength into the creature's body, landing just under its armpit. "Leonard" growls in pain, blood sputtering again from its slit-like mouth, and Marsh knows he has struck a mortal blow. But will the creature finish him off before it falls...?

Thankfully, his allies are quick to capitalize and press the attack. As Bacarov focuses the healing energies of his wand into Marsh's failing body, Voyla sends her starknife back into "Leonard" again, slashing into the arm and further weakening his grip until Marsh is nearly free; Dramin fires another arrow, which streaks past the creature, only narrowly missing. "Leonard" begins to buckle... and then the bear they had seen chasing down Doriv earlier comes charging through the brush, planting its fearsome claws deep into the monster's chest and forcing it to the ground.

"Leonard" shudders repeatedly as the bear and his halfling master stand over it. Its garbled, inhuman voice begins to repeat, as if a mantra... "I have lived a thousand years. Gossamer King, take me once more into your fold... Deliver me from the gaze of the Three-Eyed Masters..."

The spider-thing only continues its escape, putting hundreds of feet between itself and the battle. The scarf-bearing stick it carries continues to bob its way into the distance.

Combat over for now. "Leonard" is bleeding out. What shall ye do, folks?

- - - -

Warshawski:
Judging from the smoke pouring from the Chenowitz farm, it can't have been too long since the rest of your party was there. Were it not for the smoke and the fading light, you might be able to see Mayor Kriegler's house on its high hill looking over Ravenmoor from here- but, of course, the thick Chenowitz fields lie between you and it. There's no telling where your comrades are currently, but in any case, Ravenmoor seems to be the right direction to head in. The stirges continue to ignore you, but there's still the chance that your little mutant guard dog at the shack might spot you out here if you wander past.

What's your angle of approach? Also, do you want to try skirting around the Fields, or would you rather cut through them?

After a few moments, you see a familiar silhouette flapping about over the fields. It looks like Dio, the juvenile river drake, is still alive at least. It is flying in your general direction, but there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to its path.


Female Human (Varisian) Inquisitor 7 (Desna / Freedom) | HP 40/41 | AC 19 T 14 FF 15 CMD 21 | F +5 R +6 W +8 (+2 vs Fear) | Init +7 | Perc +18 | Status: Normal

Voyla looks at Leonard, sadness in her eyes.
"There is still time, Leonard, repent and ask for forgiveness. Pray to the night butterfly to let you escape the evil that corrupted your soul, and be free! Please do it! Please save yourself!"


Halfling Hunter 4

As the creature falls, the halfling looks to the bloodied combatants that were already on the field and hisses an urgent "Duroj, canarisi!" to which the bear stands on all fours panting and growling a moment before turning and trotting back to crouch beside the halfling.

Varisian:
The words barked by the halfling were what appeared to be a name followed by a command - Heel.

The bear is not a massive specimen of it's kind, reaching only four feet tall if it was to stand on it's hind legs, but it's core is a knot of muscle. Girding it's fur is a blackened and weathered coating of leather armor studded with pig iron rivets and shackles. The halfling is dressed relatively plainly with dark earthy tones, though the cut of the fabrics suggest a Varisi upbringing. In his hand still is a sharpened sword... though the point of it is laid down and towards the ground non-threateningly.

The halfling's eyes are still affixed to the mockery of life that his ursine companion laid low... and he has either not yet mustered the mental cohesion to speak... or is awaiting the words of others before adding his own.

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