"Given the schir and vrock circling over head, we should head back I think, once Ehren returns, of course," she whispers to Ehren and Val through the spell.
In an instant, any hopes Ehren had of there being a heroic slave revolt are quashed. The druid looks upon the slaves with barely contained disgust, their horrific treatment worse than anything he had dared to imagine. For a second he considers approaching them anyway, to do something to ease their suffering, but he decides against it. Before he can be noticed he slips right back into the wall, emerging from the ground next to Isilme and Valaria just moments later.
Looking up at them, Ehren simply shakes his head. Even in his elemental form, his expression is all too readable. "I counted about fifty of them. Most are wounded and infected with contagious diseases, but they're all... broken." He glances back down the pit with a stony grimace. "The best thing we can do for them is end this battle quickly. They're not too far gone to save, but they're in no condition to fight."
"A shame, but good that there are still crusaders to be saved, lets return quickly," Isilme says, turning to head back towards the gatehouse.
Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (9) + 15 = 24
Perception: 1d20 + 24 ⇒ (19) + 24 = 43
Xanderghul nods. "Alright." he says. "I've got nothing else to ask," he adds, turning to Irabeth, Ary, and Hinagiku. "I assume that we'll decide your fate tonight and send you... onward... to whatever your final destination is by the morning."
Val glances up and nods once. "Alright. Let's get out of here before they notice us." She leans back and falls silent as they wait together. Her face falls and she sighs when the druid finally reports in. "I wish I was more surprised. This place is screwed up, no matter what we do. Alright. Then we'll have to make sure we win tomorrow."
Perception: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17
Stealth: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (5) + 13 = 18
When Hinagiku goes to watch the interrogation, rather than help with the crates, Ary skips it, for now, and instead follows her down, listening to the information that was available and forthcoming.
"Have any of you seen the drakeriders in action? Do you know how they fight, exactly? Do you know who their leader is, and his method of operation?"
"What do you believe should be done with you now that you have surrendered. Clearly, we can't just release you into the city, immediately, but what do you think is a fair course of action?"
"Are there any localized Hala demons? Those are the ones that are all stormy and fly around."
"Are there any other bastions of forces within Paradise hill that we should be aware of?"
"Are there any messengers or deliverymen that we should be aware of that may stop by for a report?"
"What on Golarion did you do to wind up in Drezen, of all places?"
Perception?: 1d20 ⇒ 10
Ehren, Isilme, and Valaria make it back to the eastern watch tower without incident. The loud storm and thick, acid rain makes it difficult for the schir to notice them nearby and the fact that the harpies were all forced to hide from the rain meant that there was no one to notice them from the air.
When all 6 of you are willing to move on to tomorrow, we will.
"Exorius leads the drake-riders."
"No, Exorius left on some mission...."
"Oh, then. I don't know. They have lances, I guess?"
"Those drakes are f!++ing fast."
"Uh... if you let us go I promise not to tell anyone you're here."
"Yeah, Ms. Paladin, sir. Please let us go."
"Hala demons? There used to be. Haven't seen them around, lately."
"Umm... the cavalry is down south, across the bridges at Southbank. That's useful, right? Please let me go."
"Patrols from the northern and southern tower will make their way here in the morning."
"Yeah and they'll be expecting our patrols, too. If we're missing, they'll probably send a messenger."
"Most of us got assigned here from other cities. No one really wants to be in this dump, except some of the higher-ups, I guess."
"Yeah, I grew up in Undarin, then got moved here."
"I'm from Raliscrad. Family and everything. I swear."
"I heard Raliscrad isn't doing too well lately."
"Yeah, Minagho lost the city to Yavalliska after that whole screw-up..."
Ready for tomorrow. Believe we should have the troops rested and ready to march before dawn. We need to get the gong sounding right at daybreak I think.
Ready too, agree with Isilme.
I think I'm ready as well.
Almost forgot! :P
After returning from the scouting mission and reporting his findings, Ehren reverts to human form and retrieves the materials required for his scrying spell. He looks for a secluded place to work quietly - no easy task considering how crowded the watchtower now is - and spends the next hour focusing on his divination.
It was crucial for them to learn whether Mangvhune was still on their trail, or if he was still too busy licking his wounds. If the babau realized that they were already in Drezen, he would be fully capable of disrupting their plans... or of making another attempt on Isilme's life.
Caster Level vs. SR (Place Magic): 1d20 + 8 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 8 + 1 = 21
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"Before I ask this question, 'I am' is the wrong answer. Who is normally responsible for dealing with other patrols, and who is typically performing the patrol?"
Once the person or people involved are shown via consensus, she focuses her attention on them. "What do we need to do to prevent the alarm being raised first thing in the morning?"
* * *
After all is said and done, she nods to them. "We aren't going to release you all just yet. It would be unethical as... it would essentially be risking your deaths to ease our own burdens. I think that you should each be allowed to return to your rooms, individually, to gather your belongings. Do not take anyone else's things... or I'll let Xanderghul decide how to determine who the things belong to. You don't want that."
She then moves over to Arta's unconscious body, lifting her onto her shoulder with a grimace, before starting back up the ladder.
She takes Arta to the edge of the gate, where the golems are, just outside of the reach of the rain, her stomach wrenching. She leans her against the wall, head lolled to the side. "I am sorry. And I know that you can't hear me. But... to be where you are has taken a great many choices. And... in the end, we must be held accountable for our choices, yeah? How many people have you killed? What deeds have you reveled in?" Ary asks, grip tightening on the hilt of her sheathed sword as she kneels, face inches from the other woman's.
"You're a threat to us. Even as you are now. You're... strong. Within days, you could rally your troops. You could break out. You could kill my people, my friends, the civilians we brought to make this place ours. You could be the single nail that drives into the heart of our momentum." she says, pausing as she bites her lip, heart beating faster and faster, slowly unsheathing her sword as she rises.
"I'm... sorry. But... you're our enemy. I can't let you live. And I can't make someone else do this. This is my responsibility." she says, taking a step back, eyes brimming as she holds the glowing sword at her side, drawing it back, and whipping it forward in a blinding arc, then the sound of sword biting into stone.
"I'm sorry." she whispers to no one.
* * *
Ary returns to the ladder, hefting Arta's body, as she clambers back down. She dumps her body unceremoniously in front of all of the cultists, face streaked with tears. She kneels down and shifts her body into a position more fitting of repose, staring at the weight of her own particular sword. She stands, and turns on her heels, heading for the ladder once more, twisting the ring on her hand with her thumb. "I will shine in her legion." she intones, as the tears dry from her face, and the blood washes from her armor, sheathing her sword as she goes. She climbs the ladder without another word, leaving the unconscious enemy commander to rest and recover.
"Well, Mokug was in charge of handling visitors, then Poot receives the reports. Arta is always too busy with 'executive time' to deal with that stuff so she makes her slip do it instead."
"Also we usually have some guys up on the walls. If no ones up on the walls in the morning it'll look pretty suspicious."
"Doesn't really matter who does the patrols. Sometimes we just draw sticks, 'specially for the northern tower."
"Yeah, f@#% those harpies, man."
The cultists are noticeably surprised that they are allowed to gather their effects. They go, one at a time, supervised by the crusaders as to what they take back. Most of them take personal effects - clothes, small trinkets and lucky charms, unholy symbols of Deskari and letters and drawings of loved ones.
25 Lamashan 4713
It is before dawn on the 25th of Lamashan, a day that would go down in history as the beginning of Commander Bishop's siege of Drezen.
It is a temperate 58° F (14° C), cloudless with a light breeze. The acid rain from the previous day has vanished, with only the wear on the stone leaving any sign that it was there at all.
My spells are prepped.
Xanderghul retires early and wakes early, so that he can study both his spellbook and the Lymirin Discourses. Reading the bit about the witches, he hums softly. A whole city, totally dominated by witches, and she had defeated them. The passage's descriptions of the battles between the witches and Iomedae does something for guiding Xanderghul's arcane principles.
He supposes that she, too, must have had an adventuring party. Nobody becomes great alone.
He wonders who they might have been. History had forgotten them, after all.
Alright, I need confirmation from Ary, Ehren, and Hinagiku that they have chosen their spells for the day
Your entire army fits comfortably inside the watch tower. Your group found a lot of food and supplies in the tower, but all of it is Wouldwound-tainted. This means you can afford to feed your prisoners without touching your food supplies.
You have a total of 29 prisoners including Arta and Hildifons. You will need to make decisions about how heavily they will be guarded.
49 units of food remain (after 2 castings of create food and water by Sosiel) and you consume 10 units of food a day. Due to the changes Xanderghul made
At this point a negligible amount of your men are afflicted by the rageweed curse, so it doesn't really affect your army's functioning at all since you have taken measures to ensure that the few who are still acting out are tended for by those who are still sane.
You guys had a number of different ideas of how to proceed: ringing the other gongs, subterfuge, disguises, destroying/trapping the southern bridge, attempting to summon Spot (Xanderghul can succeed at a DC 24 K.Arcana check to remember his name), giving Valaria fly, raising the shantak, spike stones
Please review the discussion pages by Isilme and Xanderghul for their plan and discuss further with the new information you've gleamed from scouting and interrogation. Their plan was basically to lure the forces to the southern bridge and then intercept them while they are stranded in a large trap.
We want Sosiel to prepare:
4th - dismissal, holy smite
3rd - daylight
We want Cpt. Streigher to prepare prayer in a third-level slot.
We want 15 rangers to prepare handy grapnel, so that we can scale a tower or building just in case we have to.
We want to give two of our wands of entangle to our ranger corps - one to its leader and another to his best subordinate.
I am assuming this has been done unless people argue otherwise.
We want to distribute our potions of cure light wounds (33) and our potions of longstrider (17) among the party - at least some of them.
If you actually want to do this please specifically state how many are going to whom (or just say you want them evenly distributed)
Right now I want you guys to consider the various plans you have proposed in light of your new information and try to propose a new, solid, specific plan of how you want to move forwards. I will give you at least 24 hours to do this (48-72 hours if we need further clarification or need to negotiate opposing viewpoints). If you guys drag your feet I will just start moving time forwards.
Ary will maintain the same spells!
Once she has a bit of downtime, to spend with Nurah, she asks a potentially simple question: "What is the Beast of Drezen?"
K. Arcana: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (3) + 18 = 21
Xanderghul can't contribute much to the various sabotage plans but I think we should raise the shantak and march ASAP. He suggests we release all prisoners except for Arta and Hildifons, who should be executed.
I suggest that we all take at least two CLW potions and two longstrider potions. Movement can be very important during extended battles, and it's possible that someone will fall unconscious or be affected by a bleed effect, and for that we'll want at least a bit of healing on-hand.
Nurah smiles grimly. "Oh? Try asking your kellid friend if he knows the name Soltengrebbe."
Due to her presence in the region during the First Crusade, Isilme gets a +3 circumstance bonus to the below check
Soltengrebbe is a legendary chimera of the northlands of Mendev and Sarkoris - a monstrous beast with the head and wings of a white dragon, the head and body of a snow leopard, and a head of a goat. In ancient times, the chimera reigned over the northernmost regions of Sarkoris, terrorizing villages and travelers alike, earning him the name "The Beast of the North". During the First Crusade, Soltengrebbe continued to hunt in the northlands, and inspired more than one baudy tavern song in his name. However, by the Second Crusade, it disappeared, leading many to assume it was never but a legend....
Bardic Knowledge(Local): 1d20 + 10 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 10 + 3 = 33
Posting in a minute
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In the evening
Isilme thinks back to her time during the first crusade before her encounter with Minagho. She had travelled with Elan through a few small towns in northern Sarkoris where the Kellids told tales not of some legendary beast they had once heard about, but of the horror that had attacked their town recently. Telling tales of the misshapen monstrosity that was a legendary chimera, almost a prototype of the common creatures, cruel and terrifying to behold. The destruction in the towns was impressive to say the least. It had a terrible beauty to it, with buildings cracked open and the edges covered in rime, as if the shell of some recently eaten nut had been discarded on the night of the first winter's frost. To see a living legend excited Isilme, but the thought of aiding in its demise stirred feelings that she had not felt since she and Elan had traipsed about Mendev seeking to create tales of their own adventures.
"Soltengrebbe? That was a legendary chimera present during the first crusade in northern Sarkoris. The creature is legendary only in that it is a rare sort of chimera, not in the sense it is mythical. It is all too real and quite dangerous. That it serves the demons here in Drezen, and therefore Vhane means that it is a powerful symbol of their might. Defeating it will do much to demoralize the cultists in Drezen." Grinning slightly, she pauses for a moment. "And more importantly, there will be a chance now to add a new and final verse to the Ode to the Beast of the North," she says, her eyes lit up with excitement.
For some time now she had become comfortable in her new... in Li'an's body. But the excitement rekindled her desire to have her old form. To have the strength and fortitude to go hand to hand with the creature. To feel the weight of her fists crashing into it, to feel her bare feet pressed into the soil as it pushed back. To use every ounce of her might to remove its evil presence from the world forever more, risking herself in the process. Looking down at her hands, she flexes her fingers, suddenly aware of how frail she actually was. Even in her frustration with Mangvhune she had written it off, maintaining her bravado until she believed it. She still spoke like she was a true Raelis, taunted foes, enraged them, hoping to provoke a fight, but that was all she had anymore. Nurah had been right on that count. She was weak, and all she had left were words and magic. If she had been herself, Mangvhune would have died or fled and never returned. As she comes to this realization, the excitement fades, replaced by some level of resignation and hopelessness. It's true that she'd felt more like herself than ever when she'd woken up the past couple of days, but now it simply felt hollow to her.
It was in this moment of introspection and melancholy that Ary showed up having spared Arta. Isilme looked confused at the woman, her friend, trying to understand why she would spare the life of a cultist leader that had almost killed Xanderghul. They knew little of her, save that she appeared to be a loyal servant of the demons. They had no indication that she had done anything good ever, and very little knowledge of her actual abilities. To keep her prisoner was risking a situation where she might be able to get free and rejoin the enemy forces. While redemption and second chances made for a good tale, there were some risks that were just simply not worth taking. The idea that Arta might break free and endanger the lives of others troubled her greatly, especially with her so focused on her own powerlessness and frailty. The truth was that if Arta were to escape and kill crusaders, she physically would be unable to do anything about it, and while she had been lucky with magic against her before, she could not be certain that it would not fail her this time. Furthermore, the group and forces would be completely preoccupied with the battle to come, meaning that perhaps none of them would be there to stop the woman.
While she appreciated that Ary had a gentle heart, and was loathe to be insubordinate due to her friendship with Ary and the importance of maintaining control within the army, the colder side of Isilme's Raelis nature demanded action. No, there was only one way this could end, with Arta's death. She might not be able to take Arta one-on-one, but she was more than capable of executing her for the protection of her friends and allies.
Without saying a word, Isilme heads down to the holding area, asking the troops to open the trap door and lower the ladder. "Everyone to the far side of the room," she calls down, her voice unusually stern. "And leave Arta where she is."
She climbs down carefully, and stands before Arta, looking at the other cultists in the room. "Commander Bishop intends to let you live. Know that this is a gesture that is given because she is truly a good person, who believes in second chances. You now have a chance to live a proper life, far from this evil and what you have done here. Take your things when you are set free, head to Mantarin, join those of your kind who have defected and just live without harming others. This is a chance you will never receive again, and know that if you take this chance for granted, or betray her trust, you will die. Just like Brae-Hagen, just like Captain Empyri, Just like the nearly thousand cultists and demons we slew in Northern Mendev on the way to retake this city, and just like your leader, Arta. For at that point, you will just be another foe standing between us and the safety of those we love and cherish." Isilme doesn't remove her gaze from those in the corner as she drives her blade through Arta's neck, severing both her jugulars and spilling crimson over the floor in a rapidly expanding pool.
"You are free the moment you leave here. You are bound to no one. You are no swarm, you are individuals, maybe even friends and companions if it suits you. Work together to be stronger, work to live and support each other. But do it without harming others. It is not too late for you." With that she briefly crouches to wipe her rapier clean on Arta's shirt before sheathing it and climbing back up the ladder.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (3) + 26 = 29
Later, with Külə
Isilme's mood doesn't improve much as the night goes on, and she makes a point of avoiding Ary and the others. Heading down, she works her way to visit Külə. She would need his help in the morning anyway. "Külə, it is good to see you," she says, patting his scarred, knotted hide. She sits down next to him, keeping one hand on the unicorn's shoulder as she addresses him, "Bilirəm ki, son vaxtlar bir çoxunuzdan soruşdum, təsdiq etmədiyiniz şeylər. Bunun üçün həqiqətən mən böyükəm. Siz davamlı acıda yaşayırsınız və buna baxmayaraq kömək edə bilərik. Sabah mən sizinlə düşmənlərimizi zəifləsək və Drezenin ilk döyüşündə həlledici bir zərbə ilə məşğul olsaq, başqalarının qarşısında mənimlə yola çıxmağı xahiş edəcəyəm. Heç birinizə borcunuz yoxdur və bunu etməməyiniz lazım olsa, mən başa düşəcəyəm. Bilirəm ki, orada olacağam ki, orada olmağımın hamısını təhlükəyə atsın. Digərləri qorumaq üçün əlimizdən gələni edəcəyimiz bir dost kimi yanınızda döyüşmək şərəf olardı. Səhərə qədər düşünün."
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (1) + 26 = 27
Not waiting for anything but the simplest acknowledgement, she continues, "Bu arada, inanıram ki, mənim hekayəmə söz verdim. İstəyirəm ki, mənimlə xatırladığım bütün məlumatları bölüşməkdən xoşbəxtəm." With that she begins recounting all she could remember, reaching back to her days at the Kitharodian Academy, through the travels which first led her to encounter Elan. She spends several hours recounting all the good and evil she had experienced, including her own death and rebirth at the hands of Minagho and Elan's wish, and her ill-fated saving of Li'an and subsequent rebirth at Li'an's death.
General Chimera Knowledge
Chimeras are monstrous creatures born of primordial evil. Hateful and hungry, they hunt on the ground or in the air. Chimeras speak with three overlapping voices in draconic, but rarely do so, typically only when playing toady to a more powerful creature.
They possess three heads: the lion head, which bites and claws, the goat head, which gores, and the dragon head that flies.
While chimeras habitually hunt from the air, they are not strong or agile flyers, and thus typically avoid high and windy mountains where the air is cold and thin, as well as heavily forested areas filled with obstacles to hinder their movement. However, chimeras thrive in jagged and craggy badlands rife with plunging canyons, soaring natural arches and spires, and broken terrain carpeted with scrub-lands in which they can take cover and lie in ambush. Bursting from its hiding place, a chimera feels no shame in fighting dirty, whipping sand and grit into a blinding storm while blasting prey with its magical breath. Should any survive its initial onslaught, a chimera tries to isolate one victim to carry off for later feasting, taking maximum advantage of the terrain by flying across ravines and over cliffs so enemies cannot follow. Chimeras are also clever enough to create crude traps for their victims, preparing landslides or deadfalls to unleash onto travelers below their aeries, afterward swooping down to pick off survivors as they dig themselves out.
A chimera can speak, but it is only barely intelligent, able to do little more than curse, bluster, threaten, or (when tamed by a mightier power) complain. Chimeras are cunning enough to set rudimentary traps and create ambushes, but, while effective, their tactics are crude at best. They can fly, but clumsily and without grace. They are fierce in battle when they have the advantage, but if bloodied are apt to retreat in search of easier prey. They are not so much cowardly as they are indolent, content to scavenge rather than hunt if easy food does not present itself. Chimeras graze and gnaw plants down to the ground, despoiling fertile lands with their great hunger when they choose not to do so with their caustic breath. A chimera is always on the prowl for bigger and better prey, however, and when hungry will attack just about any creature smaller than itself.
Chimera possess a powerful breath weapon that is keyed to the type of dragon head it possesses.
Additional Soltengrebbe Information(requires previous successful check to ID Soltengrebbe)
It is said that Soltengrebbe was a much larger chimera than typical. Most accounts describe a monster as large as a small house - 20' long from head to tail. His great size allowed him to swallow men whole with his lion and dragon heads. His dragon head - the white variety - allows him to exhale a blast of icy wind with icicles long enough to go through a man. (COLD + PIERCING DAMAGE - variant of normal chimera breath attack, and stronger)
This check allows you access to the "Legendary Chimera" statblock, which is closer to what Soltengrebbe is, but not exact ;)
Bardic Knowledge(Arcana) - Loremaster: 20 + 10 = 30
vs both, since Isilme identified Soltengrebbe
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When the prisoners are allowed to go get their belongings, Hinagiku follows them, and helps supervise them. However, once they are done, Hinagiku does not return to the room in which the prisoners are being held; with Ary present, she was not worried that the prisoners would be mistreated. And so, the vulpine monk makes her way through the tower, visiting everyone and enquiring whether they need anything. While carrying the few resulting errands Hinagiku starts hearing whispers concerning Arta’s failed execution. Concerned about Ary’s state, she makes her way to the commander’s current office.
After a soft knock, Hinagiku gently cracks the door open and whispers.
”Ary, do you mind if I come in?” she asks without even looking in.
When allowed, the monk slips into the room and gracefully approaches the desk, siting down on a chair.
”Are you alright Ary? I’ve heard what happened… and, I…” she paused, visibly unable to sort her next thought.
”I can’t imagine how that was… especially alone. Ary, please, let us help you, at least let us listen to you. It is not a burden for friends to listen and aid those they love.” she says as she reaches to put a comforting, yet hairy, hand over Ary’s gauntlet.
In the morning
Hinagiku climbs to the top of the tower to watch as the sun rises over the desolate city of Drezen. She takes a deep breath as she surveys the scenery under the sickly light of the rising sun. The moment, though gloomy, seemed historical. Their army had reach a city and would most likely reclaim it. That would be a first great step toward her goal of healing the wound. Proving they could reclaim lands from the oni would hopefully the first stitch to the wound.
No change in spell
Val watches the execution in silence from the side of the room. She can't exactly judge either party, but she can't help wondering if Ary is going to break down if the pressure of command keeps weighing down on her. Then again, that was why she'd never really taken a leadership role. The one thing of value her father ever taught her was that being in charge often meant making hard decisions. She hesitates as she sees Daisy going to check on the commander, then follows shortly behind her. She's never been one to sit back while her friends are in the middle of a crisis. "Mind if I come along?" she asks the monk as she stops in front of Ary's door.
Concluding his study period, Xanderghul stands up, does a short series of stretches (that appear slightly lame but which are really quite useful for limbering up the body in anticipation of battle) and descends the stairs to meet with the rest of the group. The Crusaders are getting up and getting ready, and all around there is the quiet but grim sound of armor being donned or swords being sharpened. "No time or space for a big heroic speech probably, huh?" he mutters, slightly jokingly. "It's okay. The crushed bodies of our foes will do just as good for morale."
"So I understand that I'm to execute a solo sabotage mission today?"
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Ary is sitting at Arta's desk, busily writing something, so she doesn't look up at first. "I never mind, Daisy."
"I'm fine. I just... I can't do that. I can't just execute a defenseless foe in the middle of the night. She's a threat to us, yes... but she'll likely wake long before morning... so I'll at least get to converse with her before I execute her. Barring some strange revelation that causes me to keep her alive." she says, nodding to Valaria. "It's just... if we start doing things their way, we risk becoming them. And we must be better when we have a choice, you know? We've got to give these people choices that they've never had given to them. I've little in the way of doubt that Arta is well beyond my abilities to help, but... even for a little while, showing them that we're not cold-blooded murderers who want to see them and their way of life utterly destroyed sends a clear message." she pauses.
"Or... at least, that's what my heart tells me. My head tells me to destroy her before she hurts our people any more." she says with a small, slightly defeated shrug. "I've been writing up an idea... based on a bit of Shelynite faith. It's only a rough draft, but if everyone else here is on board with it, I'm thinking of offering those that surrender a chance to stay and live a better life. It wouldn't be hard to teach them a different way of life. Imagine if they didn't feel the need to be locusts any longer, imagine if they had a place to call home. And... for those that wish, we could easily send them away, with their belongings and food, as Xander suggested. Reformation beats an execution or permanent imprisonment, most days, I'd think."
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Valaria/Ary - no changes to PoW maneuevers?
Book keeping: Xanderghul picked up the scrolls of status, hide from undead and lesser animate dead, the silver dust, as well as a potion of invisibility. Loot document is updated. He studies the 2nd Act of the Lymirin Discourses, gaining a +1 sacred bonus on caster level checks to overcome SR and a +1 sacred bonus on Will saves.
Book keeping: Everyone takes 2 potions of CLW and 2 potions of longstrider from Ary. Also, Isilme CDG's Arta so she is dead.
While the crusaders present at the scene look on impassively when Ary returns Arta's unconscious body to the cultists, rumors quickly spread throughout the tower of her missed execution. This is of course how Isilme hears of the Commander's mercy towards the cultist commander.
When she comes down the ladder and orders the cultists to the far side, they all tremble in fear that they will be next to go. The relief in their faces is readily apparent when they learn that they won't only be spared - but eventually free to go. "Th-thank you, Crusader ma'am," they sputter out.
The crusaders watch onwards - one meets Isilme's eyes as she walks out and simply nods, while the other avoids her gaze.
You're always in tune with the general feel of the army - and the army right now is buzzing with the recent execution of Arta, not by Commander Bishop, but by the aasimar knight, Isilme.
Reactions so far are mixed - the crusaders don't know whether or not Isilme was commanded to execute her in Bishop's stead, or if she exists in breach of a direct order from the commander. Others still are surprised that the seemingly frail elven bard was even capable of the execution and claim that it must be some sort of slander or misunderstanding.
The Sarenrites, under Kamilo Dann, are confused and angry - they had formerly applauded Ary's decision to spare the cultist in case she could amount to something more and feel that Isilme's actions were short-sighted and hasty. The more lawful Everbright Crusaders are angry that Isilme seemingly went forwards with this on her own, completely ignoring proper chain of command. Others - like the more pragmatic Caelda Halse of the Flaming Lance, and Captain Alkalson of Vilareth, are pleased with Isilme's decision - they feel that the captain was too dangerous to be spared and so Isilme made the right choice... some of their men even whisper that perhaps Bishop was too weak to do the right thing for the Crusades.
Külə is found down in the gate with the other horses - an arrangement that he was not happy with in the slightest, but as his body was too large to really fit through the doors into the watchtower, not much could be done about this. He had even offered to simply sleep out in the acid rain - remarking that at this point he was used to it - but the civilians with the army had by this point grown fond of the ugly, downtrodden creature, and forbade him from sleeping out in the rain.
Külə acknowledges Isilme's presence with a flick of one of his ears. "The creatures that dwell in this foul city are a taint upon the world," he responds in cool Sylvan. "I am happy to fight along side you to cleanse this place of their presence, if you'll have me."
Before she starts her story, he mentions off-handedly - "What you did with the cultist leader was the right thing. You likely saved many lives from further suffering by killing her. Just know that I agree with you."
Afterwards he falls silent, listening to her story late into the night.
This is what I understand your plan to be:
This plan happens before the patrol is scheduled.
1. Xanderghul goes to ring the southern gong, alone (as he mentioned on Roll 20)
2. Trap the bridge with stone spikes. Then wait for them to get stuck on the bridge, and come in from behind - raining arrows on them and taking out the part of the army that isn't on the bridge.
Also, if you want to raise the shantak someone needs to approach Markus in character.
I'm interested in seeing what Ary writes up regarding the prisoners..
Other than that, I'm ready to go if you are. I'd like all 6 of you to check in, post something about pre-battle preparations - and then we'll get moving.
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Just before entering Ary’s command room
”Yes, of course miss Valaria.” she begins, understanding right away that her companion has come to a conclusion similar to her own. [/b]”I think Ary needs as many friends to support her as possible. Come.”[/b] she finishes, knocking on the door.
Hinagiku smiles faintly, a motherly smile with subtle hints of sympathy, care, and sadness.
”I agree with you. I have always supported your desire to redeem those we are fighting. But, there is more to it now. You struggled with your decision and then tried to carry the burden on your own shoulders alone. You have tortured yourself over this… but you did not need to. We are here for you.” her grip tightens ever so slightly on Ary’s hand ”We can listen, help carry the burden, but we can only do so if you let us.”
After a moment, Hinagiku resumes speaking:
"And, I will be glad to hear your idea on how to help our prisoners, and help you with it in anyway I can."
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I think I'm going to swap Dustcatching Breeze for Swift Claws actually, but otherwise I'm good.
Val nods and follows the kitsune monk into the room. She wasn't entirely sure what she'd been expecting, but seeing Ary mostly functional and busy working on something seems like an improvement over the other possibilities. "I'm hardly one to complain about redemption. I think that a lot of these people could lead better lives that waiting to die for a horde that doesn't care for them if they had some place to truly be safe and free." She bites her lip, chewing on it hard enough to draw a drop of blood. Ary is going to be... disappointed. Perhaps Isilme's decision was a bit hasty. But keeping it hidden and letting Ary build up false hopes would make things worse in the long run. "But... I'm afraid that you might be too late if you want to speak with Arta. Isilme elected to... resolve things when you weren't ready to do so yet."
Ehren sees in the mirror...
Mangvhune Will Save (blood debuff): 1d20 + 8 - 10 ⇒ (14) + 8 - 10 = 12
You see Mangvhune, in his armor, with his dark fur cloak tied tightly around his face, somewhat obscuring his appearance and identity as a babau. He is skulking around the city - the ruined buildings of Drezen are visible in the background. He wanders into a random building and plops himself down on a seat next to some tiefling cultist soldiers eating a miserable breakfast of grey gruel.
"So," he says in his rough, gravely voice, interrupting their meal.
The tieflings pay him no heed at first.. but they jump, startled, when they realize the "man" next to them is in truth a babau.
Mangvhune opens his mouth to continue, then notices the faint shimmer in the air that is Ehren's sensor. He smirks, staring directly at it.
"Oh, hello love. You'll be here soon, won't you?" he says to seemingly no one. The tieflings get up and switch tables - clearly this babau was insane - and that made him dangerous.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm waiting for you." He then waves to the sensor... it takes a few moments for him to overwhelm Ehren's magic, but at last the sensor vanishes with a wink, and Ehren's mirror goes blank.
Mangvhune detect sensor?: 1d20 + 28 ⇒ (3) + 28 = 31
Mangvhune Dispel Magic: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Mangvhune Dispel Magic: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18
Mangvhune Dispel Magic: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
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That is a very good point. I'll swap out Blessed Pinions for Kill the Wounded, which allows Ary to cause one enemy to take +2d6 damage until her next turn.
"It's no burden, really, but yeah. I wonder how many of them would take to making bouquets?" she says with a small smile. "It's probably idealistic and childish to hope for, really." she says, nodding to what Valaria was saying... then she stops, looking up to her, confused. "I... what?" she says, pushing her way up out of Arta's chair, which clatters behind her. "No..." she says shaking her head and hand running to her hair, staring down at the desktop.
"I... don't know what to do here. The troops are going to take my choice not to kill her as a sign that I didn't want her dead, and Isilme's actions as being... directly against my word. It will create strife. And there's not really anything I can do, without causing them to view me as either two-faced or weak. If I were in their position, ordering subordinates to kill someone after I failed..." she says, shaking her head, as she starts to pace in place.
"We can't let them think she acted as a rogue or... but she did." Ary says, face screwing up. "What in the world was she thinking..?"
She pauses in her pacing, "Only one way to know." she says, before heading for the door, in search of Isilme. She waits for a moment for her conversation to stop, before approaching, "You... did something, and I'm trying to understand why."
Ehren packs up the mirror, more or less satisfied with what he has learned. It was not entirely unexpected that Mangvhune was already in Drezen, but fortunately for them, he seemed oblivious to the fact that the army was there as well. Hopefully it would stay that way, at least until after they executed their surprise attack in the morning.
Having spent an hour staring into a blank mirror, Ehren stretches his legs and heads off to report his findings to Ary and the others; they would be able to sleep soundly tonight. But as he walks past some of the soldiers and overhears their gossip, his pace gradually slows to a halt. The druid frowns in confusion, puzzled by both Ary and Isilme's alleged actions. He could not fathom how now of all times, on the eve of their most important task yet, they allowed this to become an issue. Obviously, he would have to ask them.
But just as he is debating on who to approach first, he sees Ary walking through the tower... with a purpose. Intuiting what was about to happen, he slowly follows after her, all the way to Isilme. Not really intent on interrupting, but not too keen on eavesdropping either, he leans against the doorway, within plain sight and earshot of the conversation.
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Laying back against Kule, Isilme isn't surprised when Ary arrives. After all, her sense of perception was nearly mythical in its own right. She looks at Ary, trying to intuit whether her friend was angry or just confused. Still it was certainly Ary to come talk about it, that was reassuring. She thinks for a moment on Ary's words. She did do something, and something that needed a good explanation. Obviously the situation was complicated now, what with that action having been insubordinate. She tosses around how best to phrase things in her mind and then speaks.
"There was a time when I was capable of protecting others, Ary. A time when I could rely on my own strength to cover for my own mistakes or the mistakes of others. Certainly that strength had limits; I would not be here if it had not, after all. I no longer have that luxury. Without all of you, I would be unable to defend even myself from the dangers we face daily out here." She lets that sink in for a moment as she shifts her weight to a low crouch and then stands up, looking Ary in the eye. "Here, on the eve of a battle the likes of which has not been seen nearly a century. We will live or die, succeed or fail on the actions each of us takes from here on in. Not only are we dependent upon each other, the crusaders are dependent upon us, and even those you wish to redeem are as well. If we fail, we let them all down." She crosses her arms and looks up towards the tower where the rest of their forces were resting.
"Arta poses a threat we do not know or understand. She was incoherent during most of the battle with us, so we do not know if she possesses magic, nor do we know how effective she is at coercing her troops into combat. Were she to awaken, we might have a serious problem on our hands. You will all be busy fighting tomorrow. We have a legendary chimera to face, two vrocks, a cultist army including schir, and possibly any number of other things. If Arta were to break free while we were occupied, many of our civilians could die, and it could even endanger our mission."
She pauses again, looking down at her own hands as she had before she had gone down to execute Arta. A frown passes over her face briefly before she looks back to Ary. "I cannot save people if that happens. I cannot help you any more than I did when the Hezrous tore you all limb from limb. I do not have the power to save anyone, except by remedying what I saw as an error before it could turn into anything more grievous."
"I understand this has put you in a very difficult position. I imagine the troops are likely confused about the situation, and knowing mortals, are of two minds about whether she should have been executed or not. I do not believe I took the wrong action, but I should have consulted with you first. I am sorry if I have betrayed your trust, Ary, and sorry if I have failed you as a friend."
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"You're not weak." Ary says, simply. "You may think so, but it's not powerlessness that you're dealing with. You are choosing, consistently, to do the right and hard things despite your newfound frailty. You may believe yourself less capable, but the powers that you use to strengthen Valaria could be used upon yourself to make yourself as sizable a threat as any of our troops. You could use them upon someone such as Irabeth to help them to surpass many of us. The fact that your power relies upon others to reach true fruition is not a weakness; it is a simple truth of the way the world works. No one is an island. Everyone needs help." she says, thinking back to her recent conversation with Hinagiku.
"You did not act against my wishes. You simply acted too quickly. In your haste, you destroyed what could easily have been an asset, unlikely, though she may have been. I always suspected I would execute Arta in the morning, but I intended to do so after hoping to come to some sort of understanding. After giving her a chance to make her peace." she pauses once more. "Daisy had already stated that she was tainted by the same influences most that reside within the wound are; selfishness and depravity. Likely, her death was a foregone conclusion. And... little is lost in your haste. Likely, all that I wished for her to have can still be gained through Hildefons. Likely, we can ensure that her loss was not entirely in vain." she pauses once more.
"I... don't fully know how to handle this situation, but I'll do my best. Moving forward... try to doubt your own power, less. You're every bit as strong as I am." she says with a small smile. "Just with a few less diefic artifacts in your possession."
* * *
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
The following morning, Ary gathers everyone for a short speech to quell their fears and address the situation that had occurred the night prior.
"As you all know, last night, I spared the enemy commander, Arta. I had hoped - and this is a naive, idealistic hope - that perhaps she could be reached and turned to our side. That she could be given a choice. Unlikely though that may be, when Hinagiku stayed her hands and prevented her death, I felt moved to not simply let her kindness and hope die there. I feel that it was always likely that I would have to execute Arta." she says, looking to the Shelynites directly. "But I had hoped to give her a chance to make her peace. To hopefully end some of this cycle of grief and grievance. Many of our foes are individuals, just like us. Many have made choices that place them where they are, just as we have. And many of them have families and loved ones. Poor choices, piled upon poor choices have guided their lives to where they are now. Some relish in what they do, some only know this life." she pauses.
"I do not wish for that to stay your hand in combat. Hesitation will lead to the death of those you know to be good. Hesitation will lead to failure in this endeavor. But where we are capable of mercy, with a surrendered enemy or prisoner, we must strive to be better than our enemies. We walk a thin line from going too far." she pauses, once more, beginning to pace back and forth.
"The mistake was mine. I did not make my wishes known, and as a result, Isilme did not act against my orders. She chose to defend us all from a threat she saw as a very valid one. But do not mistake my unwillingness to execute a dangerous foe as weakness. It is difficult to see a danger and stay your hand, to allow your heart to measure their lives before your sword does." she stops pacing, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword.
"Today, we move forward, with one mistake behind us. And dozens upon dozens of successes ahead that will lead us forward to victory. Look at all that we have accomplished, previously. And know that everything that lies before us is no more dangerous than everything we have defeated on the way here, to this place. We are the most successful incursion into the Worldwound in decades, and we will not slow. We will drive straight to the heart of Drezen and take back the city for Mendev... for Golarion itself. We have informed your captains of what is expected of them in the following hours, and they should be ready to disseminate that information amongst you. We will use the host's own plans against them, and destroy each force in turn, until only their reserves can stand against us. And we will defeat those, just as we have defeated all of their previous forces." she pauses, to let her words sink in, to take a measure of the morale and response to her words.
P(Soldier): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (16) + 13 = 29
The previous night...
A quiet sigh of relief escapes Ehren's lips when nothing in the way of an intense argument surfaces. Not that he had ever known Ary or Isilme to be people that let their emotions get the better of them; at least, not in the way that he feared. Feeling no need to impose on them, he steps back into the watchtower and asks a nearby guard to inform the commander of his findings when she passes through again.
Never one to take a bed from someone who might better appreciate it, the druid then finds a nice, bare patch of wall to sit against and falls asleep.
It was destined to become an auspicious day, but Ehren starts it like any other. After meditating and preparing his spells, he carries out the considerably more mundane task of taking a razor to his face. Not so much as a single hair had sprouted on his old body's chin, but the stuff just wouldn't stop growing on his new one. He was not quite willing to walk around sporting a full beard just yet, something he was certain would amuse his parents to no end... not to mention his sisters. A visible shudder runs through his body.
Once he is all cleaned up, Ehren attends Ary's address, his mouth curved in a very faint smile. He could appreciate how Ary took responsibility for her actions, while also communicating her intentions and reminding the army of their goal. Looking among the crusaders' faces, he could not really get a good overall reading, but hopefully, the commander's words had reached them.
Sometime early in the night, because Ary the Tactician would realize that waiting until morning would result in a Markus with slightly less magics for saving people!:
Moving swiftly through the ranks after her conversation with Isilme, and doing her best not to deign random glances with a direct look, Ary went off to find Markus. Likely, he was busily tending minor wounds of their allies as a priority - they had taken very little in the way of casualties, or even harm, which was why she was so easily able to write off what few losses they'd had tonight. And besides... the best sort of weapon was one turned upon their foes.
Once she finished the approach, she waited for him to finish tending his current patient before cutting in line. "So... we've another beastie to see about. Are you up for trying to raise a Shantak?" she says with a grin.
Val elects not to say much more as Ary catches up with what's happened. She feels like interrupting the commander's train of thought may simply make things worse rather than help her come to any conclusion. It's best to let their leader actually lead, and that means letting her come to her own conclusions and decisions in this sort of situation. She does however elect to trail behind Ary as she goes to track down Isilme and speak to her, if only so she's there in case someone is needed to try to calm tempers, though with Ary is hardly seems necessary. Once they're finished their talk, she heads off to get some sleep so she's awake and rested for the coming battle.
P. Soldier (DC 10): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
As he prepares to leave, Xanderghul listens to some of the gossip among the soldiers. While gossip was not typically his "thing", so to speak, gossip pertaining to the success of their mission and the standing of his allies is. He makes a note to make use of Alkalson and Halse if he needs soldiers for something, and makes a second note to speak with Ary about being in command. While it's not exactly something that he has personal experience with, he's lived nearly his whole life inundated by respect and fear, borne by lesser demons in service to greater demons. He knows that she must maintain at least some of each to retain her command.
Finally, he checks in with Ary. "I'm about to head out," he says. "Is that okay? I believe the plan is for you to begin your march a few minutes after the gong on the southern side of the city is rung."
With permission, Xanderghul is going to disguise himself as a cultist with disguise self, drink a potion of longstrider, and then start jogging down to the southern side of the city.
Invoking the power of his hat (for himself, for once) Xanderghul weaves a simple illusion over his body. His regal features become clouded with dirt. Stubby, ugly horns grow from his brow, and his eyes redden. His nails lengthen subtly, and his beautiful robes develop tears and wrinkles and stains - the result of a hard life in a dirty, disgusting city. As a final touch, Xanderghul visits one of the deceased cultists and takes a symbol of Deskari - a simple, wooden one if possible.
Disguise (Cha drain, disguise self): 1d20 - 1 - 1 + 10 ⇒ (11) - 1 - 1 + 10 = 19
I believe Hinagiku was allowed to take 20 on disguise with help from others. So might be able to do that with your disguise as well.
Indeed, but I am not sure if Xanderghul will have that kind of time.
The night before
Markus k.arcana vs shantak: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24
"What?" Markus blinks - the term was something he hadn't heard since his time with the Esoteric Order of the Palantine Eye.. "A shantak? Hm. Alright. Let me look at it."
He follows Ary to the third floor of the watchtower. The crusaders are here, working to clean up the cultist corpses and gore from the ground. He paces around the creature a few times before nodding.
"I could raise it as a skeleton, but trying to raise it as a zombie would be too dangerous... I'm unsure if I could exert control over the mindless creature."
Zombie = too many HD due to size bonus
He considers placing a hand on the shantak's head, then thinks better of it when he notices that it is still covered in horrific slime. Instead he raises them above it, palms down.
'Tu immortui,' he intones, crimson eyes blazing. The skin simply melts off the creature, followed by flesh and muscle into a pile of gore on the ground. The skeleton rises and regards Markus for a moment... after a moment of silence between the two, the fearsome creature bows its great head deferentially before him.
Markus diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24
After a moment, though, Markus frowns. "Wait. So what was your plan to get it back downstairs? He's far too big."
The shantak lost all of its ranks in escape artist from being a skeleton, and also its slippery skin... this is how he got indoors in the first place. Now it is impossible for it to succeed at the 2 DC 30 acrobatics checks it would need to squeeze back out by itself with its +5 modifier to acrobatics.
The crusaders stand at quiet attention to Ary's words - though many were green, they were still all career soldiers, and in front of their commander they are wiser than to let any true feelings about her speech or decision-making show, at least immediately. For now they keep themselves busy with preparing for the initial battle. Tensions are high this morning... the paladins are optimistic, given their previous successes in Northern Mendev, but even so, now that they are deep in enemy territory, with the proud spires of Citadel Drezen in the distance, everything has suddenly become very real.
Hinagiku is correct in that time is a concern, therefore you cannot assume you can sit and reroll dice until you get a 20 ... it is 1d3x10 minutes per disguise roll.
1d100 ⇒ 13
1d20 + 29 ⇒ (17) + 29 = 46
1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13
After crafting his illusion, Xanderghul heads down towards Southbank. Crossing the bridge into the southern part of town, Drezen is still shrouded in darkness prior to sunrise. Despite this, the streets are still busy with cultist soldiers. He passes by a pair of tieflings leading a pack of howlers bound in muzzles by a long rope, and several carts carrying supplies of some sort pulled by savage looking man-eating aurochs. But he blends in rather well, with his dirty clothes, fearsome looking facial scar and glamered horns.
He makes it halfway to his destination before being stopped by a monstrous armored creature with a scaly green hide and enormous tusks jutting out from its lower jaw. It seems vaguely female, and around its neck is a crudely made necklace of bones... the bones are arranged into the demonic rune of Deskari. It holds a leather leash, and at the end of this leash is a dretch, rather than the canine one would expect. It looks utterly miserable and wretched, even for a dretch.
She spots Xanderghul and lumbers over to him, slowly. She bends over him - a good eight feet taller than him - and sniffs him. "Ég viðurkenni þig ekki, illa. Þú ert í torfum Andereggs, illa. Það þýðir að þú verður að borga skattinn minn." She kicks the dretch once, who whimpers. "Heyrðu andardráttur. Segðu honum hvað ég segi."
"I don't recognize you, wretch. You're in Anderegg's turf, wretch. That means you got to pay my tax."
"Hey, turdbreath. Tell him what I'm saying."
The dretch cowers for a moment, before Xanderghul hears its simpering little voice in his head - Anderegg shul bi gul'zg bil i. Okhushuti ish Southbank krol ghishai ski Anderegg bi nol... um bi't azg i. I bâl búmb gu bozg bi shul.
"Anderegg says she doesn't know you. Everyone in Southbank has gotta pay Anderegg the tax... or she'll eat you. You should just do what she says."
Perception: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (3) + 21 = 24
The ruckus attracts a couple more troll lackeys - five in total. They surround Xanderghul and cut him off from the street.
I am using Icelandic for the Giant language.
Anderegg stares Xanderghul down for a moment... unbelievably, for what appears to be a stupid giantess, she's casting a spell.
She elbows the troll to her right. "Heheheheheh. Horfðu á það, strákar." The trolls start laughing along after a slight delay. "Hann hefur töfrandi krossboga. Veltu fyrir þér hver hann stal því frá ... engin leið er þetta óskum nógu mikil til að hafa töfrandi vopn. Hey, dreki-andardráttur. Segðu honum að ég vil að boga."
"Heh heh heh. Look at that, boys. He's got a magical crossbow. Wonder who he stole that from... no way this scum is important enough to have a magical weapon. Hey, turd-breath. Tell him I want that crossbow."
Xanderghul hears the dretch's voice in his head again. 'Ahm, bi hoh am bishil.'
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (20) + 14 = 34
"Wait, Markus," Isilme says as Markus begins to cast. "I believe there is a spell that can be used to prepare a corpse by rapidly decomposing the flessh until nothing is left but the bones. If we have one of our clerics do so before you cast, we can carry the bones downstairs quickly, thereby solving the problem of getting the skeleton out of here. Certainly some of them must be preparing spells now, give me a moment."
Isilme then heads off and hunts down one of the clerics who is in the middle of preparing their spells, getting them to add decompose corpse to the spells they request, asking that they join Markus up on the third floor as soon as they have finished.
Isilme is able to intercept one of the Desnans before their nightly ritual under the stars, and after an hour, they come upstairs to prepare the corpse for Markus. Now a simple skeleton, the crusaders are able to easily pull it down the stairs piece-meal and reconstruct it back outside once the rain stops. Afterwards, Markus proceeds with raising the shantak without incident.
The other crusaders give the monster a wide berth, but at this point they have grown accustomed to Ser Markus raising all manner of undead beasts and vermin for the army, and so they aren't too surprised. The Iomedaeans are pragmatic - a weapon is a weapon, after all.
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Auto-success on Spellcraft and Know(planes).
Know(local): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (4) + 11 = 15
Panic grips Xanderghul momentarily, but he keeps his face smooth and impassive. He responds to the troll, letting his naturally imperious facade and the gifts granted by his noble creator layer his words with suggestive power. He responds in Giant, cutting out the dretch middleman. "You don't want to stop me. I am on a very important errand for my masters, and can not afford the interruption. You want to let me pass."
Suggestion SLA on the leader. DC 18 Will negates.
Anderegg Sense Motive: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (14) + 22 = 36
Anderegg grins, exposing a mouthful of yellowed, rotted teeth. She sniffs him once. "Ég get lykt ótta þinn, kjöt."
"I can smell your fear, meat."
But when he responds in Giant - a trick she clearly hadn't expected from some random cultist mook - her grin vanishes. She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing him for several harrowing moments.
Xanderghul vs Spell Resistance: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Xanderghul vs Spell Resistance: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
Anderegg Will Save: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (3) + 12 = 15
She is using detect good as a SLA.
Finally she shakes her head, visibly in a foul mood. "Jájá. Hvað sem er. Ekki þess virði að tíminn sé ... of skelfilegur." She waves her hand dismissively. "
Komdu, skulum fara, strákar."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Not worth the time... too scrawny."
"Come on, lets go, boys."
Anderegg leaves in the opposite direction, dragging her dretch along and her gang of trolls following a little bit behind.
Nice jedi mindtrick :p
Xanderghul can see the southern watchtower from where he is, but it will still take a few minutes for him to reach it proper.
Taking a small breath for relief, Xanderghul shrugs and begins to jog out towards the watchtower. He looks for an abandoned building within sight of the building's entrance and within a couple hundred feet of the tower.