GM SpiderBeard's Carrion Crown (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Wren continues to dawdle, waiting for the messies to clean up the mess.

"You all are a very weird collection of devotees...to the 'mer-thing'," Wren fluffs a feathered arm at the statue. "We just want to know what you're doing here is all. Seems foolish to die if you're actually proud of what you're doing here. Are you proud of it? Are you sure you don't want to share your divine vision with us?"

Wren happily blabs as a magic missile and a big angry dwarf destroy the last cultist, who collapses to the ground.

End of Combat

There's a moment of pregnant silence as you look around the temple. Nothing else has rushed out at you yet. Checking over their bodies you find the following:

- 4 mw chain shirts
- 4 amulet of natural armor +1
- 4 mw sickles
- 4 mw light crossbows
- 40 bolts
- 4 gold holy symbols, showing a strange rune on them

From the centre of the temple you can spot four doors. Two to the north, and two to the south. Of the cultists you have taken down, two may live if healed.

k. religion: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (7) + 13 = 20

"These devices belong t' a bein' known as Dagon, no' Gozreh! I' be no wonder they no be wantin' people pokin' around in their temple. Anyone hwo recognized this would be a might suspicious, an' maybe even angry. I dinnae be knowin' much abou' Dagon, other than he ain't from th' normal pantheon o' Golarion. A demon lord, or outer influence, or sommat like tha'."

"Th' amulets be protective magics, so ye best be grabbin' 'em an' usin' 'em if'n ye ain't already go' some. They be o' value in any right, so we should be takin' 'em wit' us. T' help offset our expenses and pay fer our troubles, righ'?"

Whiskeyjack paused for a moment to heal himself some more, and then moved forward. One of the cultists groaned as Whiskeyjack stepped on him, but the dwarf paid him no mind. Attacking someone who had only asked a question was uncivilized. It wasn't as if they had kicked the door in and threatened to burn the temple to the ground. Although that wasn't completely off the table now...

The dwarf moved tot he southern door in the foyer and said, "Why dinnae we be startin' here?" He waited for the others before trying the door.

Once everyone is ready, Whiskeyjack will open the door. First attempt with his hand, second with his 'dwarven skeleton key'

1d20 + 18 ⇒ (2) + 18 = 20 Know (Religion)

"Dagon, indeed! Oh dearie, these are not happy nice priests, I think not!" Wren chitters in alarm. Wren flits about trying to quickly identify any magic items before making herself ready to move on.

"Now, Mr. Jack, don't you think we should be asking one of these cultists what might be beyond these doors...or how many more priests like themselves might be around?" Wren queries but lack the magic to perform healing like that.

Eventually, she will make ready for the door 'Jack suggests.

"Ye be seein' fer yerself how they be frothin' a' th' mouth t' kill us jest fer steppin' in their door. D'ye really be thinkin' zealots like tha' would tell us wha' we want t' be knowin'? An' I ain't too keen on beatin' answers outta folks. Go' enough o' tha' when I were with th' mercs. Ain't godly, i' ain't. Better t' knock an' loudly introduce ourselves than t' pull off toenails and crush teeth. Nasty business tha'."

"Perhaps we should report this dire Dagon news to the Mayor before we venture further down. Who ever is behind this may make a move while we are preoccupied and the Mayor could use with some proof to back his claims." Kawrock offers before Whiskey presses forward.

no, we should press on. The place has been alerted, and we don't want them to prepare nasty surprises for us. We can report later.

Lena looks at the dying cultists

they made their choices. Let pharasma judge them.

Whiskeyjack pushes into the southern door, which leads to a small chapel.

This small chapel contains a simple altar of green stone at its
far end. A mosaic on the wall above the altar depicts a creature
that appears to be a mixture of fish, frog, and human. The air is
thick with the smell of rotting fish.

Arval nods, seeing nothing of note, and continues on to the next door. He tries the door.
"Is it me or does this place stink like a month old fish?"

1d20 + 17 ⇒ (7) + 17 = 24 Know (Nature)

"Is it me or does this place stink like a month old fish?"

Wren sniffs and makes a face like she agrees with Arval on the disagreeable odor.

"Old fish? No, that's just the underwater version of Tengu...the skum. No, not like human scum, or algae scum, but skum, the perverted remains of the aboleths," Wren explains about the odor and the room.

Wren casts Detect Magic and looks around before being ready to move on.

1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32 Perception

Knowledge (Nature): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

"Yes, indeed," Eldon says before scraping his throat and sharing some more trivia about Skum. "The creatures depicted here are lovingly called Skum. Skum are the most prolific and successful of the countless races created by the aboleths to serve as slaves. At the height of the aboleth empire, Skum were legion and their armies waged many wars upon the land, yet now that the aboleths are in decline, Skum have been set loose to manage on their own. Today they are a lesser-known species to above-ground humanoids, dwelling deep underground in ruins abandoned by disinterested enemies. They have lost much of their identity, even their name. Skum is a racial epithet created by surface-dwellers."

I read that somewhere recently.

Kawrock eye's Wren for a moment. "Thank you for the clarification Wren. For a moment I thought you were comparing Tengu to actual scum." He says as he makes his way to the next door. "Shall we proceed. Kawrock asks before opening the door.

Wren smiles her yellow-toothed smile.

"Of course, I was not comparing the tengu to skum, that wouldn't make any sense at all. For one, the tengu are want-to-be birds, while the skin are want-to-be mermen," Wren says delighted to explain. "I'm just saying that 'normal' races, like the humans and elves, view them both the same." Wren nods, glad to clarify.

"Mebbe Wren'd like t' be th' one tha' opens the next door?"

"Then maybe we could jest be shovin' her in an' lockin' th' door behind." He murmured to Kawrock.

He made sure Arval was ready, then opened the next door in his typical fashion.

Okay, let's hope it stays up! Also, lol.

Wren's very, very careful inspection of the room reveals nothing. However, she is almost certain there's someone waiting for the group on the other side of the door. Warning the group, she pushes on.

Three beds stand along the south wall of this simple chamber, along with two small desks, a chest, table, and bookshelf.

Standing in the room are three more clerics, all of whom are alerted and prepared for you. A man stands behind them who is in much fancier, more ornamental robes. He wields a trident.

"You will die for your transgressions! ATTACK!"

Everyone but Lena and Eldon are up!

How long would you say it has been since our last battle? Would haste still be up by any chance? Also Kawrock might have a few more throws on his produce flame.

Round 1, Init 15

Wren squawks in annoyance as the evil skum-lovers decide to attack them. Acting quickly, she remove an oily-greasy seagull's feather from her armor and tosses it at the feet of the two back jerks. Casting Acid Pit. DC 22 Reflex for the back two, DC20 for the foremost jerk. 4d6 ⇒ (2, 6, 6, 1) = 15 falling damage & 2d6 ⇒ (5, 4) = 9 acid damage.

"Be careful of the edge of that pit lest you fall in..." Wren warns.

Create Pit detail for more reference.

Wren flaps out of the crowded room. Move 3 squares left.

I'd say that spells measured by rounds are done, and spells measured by minutes are still active.

Finally! The site is up again!

Arval moves forward and starts hacking away at the one threatening to fall.

Power atk: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (13) + 15 = 28
Intimidate on hit: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (13) + 15 = 28
Dmg: 1d10 + 15 ⇒ (3) + 15 = 18

Power atk: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
Intimidate on hit: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (15) + 15 = 30
Dmg: 1d10 + 15 ⇒ (1) + 15 = 16

"Wha' trangsgression d' ye be babblin' abou'? We jest stepped in t' cha' a bi' an' yer lackeys attacked. Now, ye best be payin' fer gettin' their brains outta me armor, or i' be yer own hide tha' be in danger!"

Not sure if there is room for Whiskeyjack to enter, but if there is...

Kawrock watches as the pit forms beneath the feet of the priests.
"That's rather impressive Wren. Taking advantage of the enemies inability to fly." The Tengu waits to see how effective his ally's spell is before attacking.

Delay for now.

Sorry for skipping a day, been nutso.

Wren quickly casts a spell, and an extremely unpleasant pit opens up beneath the two cultists in the back! Shockingly, all three of the cultists leap out of the way, just avoiding the sides of the pit. However, with the pit dominating the room they're at a loss for ways to get away from the sloped edges.

Arval steps in, scoring a solid hit which terrifies the cultist. Whiskeyjack then steps in, and sends the front cultist just flying backwards, he soars ten feet back, plummeting into the pit. He desperately tries to scramble out to no avail. Another cultist gets to the opposite side of the pit, calling at Arval.

"APPROACH!"

Arval feels an incredible compulsion come over his body to walk towards the other cultist. The cult leader clings to the wall against the sloped side of the pit, and quickly casts a spell. Freezing, chilling cold fills the area and the group is pelted with ice!

This is all for naught, and the remaining two cultists plummet into the pit.

Everyone takes 19 damage and is up! Ice storm spell is on the map. I've adjusted Whiskeyjacks' positioning for optimal bull rush. Wren's pit is on the map too.

Oh yeah, important note. Arval is compelled to walk towards the white cultist!

spellcraft: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28
Oh no. Wren! Dismiss your pit, now! Arval's going to walk into it! He's bespelled!

Lena staggers forward a bit, but cant target anyone, and she is beeon pelted by hailstones.. So she throws and alchemist fire into the pit.

alchemist fire: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15

this is a throw into the pit, so it may hit someone , and splash the rest, or just splash them. Your call. Oh, did we take damage from the ice storm?

Round 2, Init 15

I don't have access to map right now, but Wren is 3 squares left. I'll try to correctly reposition when I get to a desktop.

Those in the acidic pic take 2d6 ⇒ (1, 3) = 4 acid damage.

"Oh ho! Wren, smell your armpit, wow! Arval's googling dank prune pits! He's misspelled!"

Wren lifts a feathered arm up to sniff her armpit, as she struggles to make sense of Lena's words over the roaring and pelting rain and hail.

"WHAT!?" Wren squawks and moves out of the ice storm area. The Pit spells are not dismissable.

"LENA!" Wren yells back. "Make sure no one goes into the pit! It'd be bad! Remind Arval NOT to go near it!"

Wren's solutions to helping Arval are minimal and not so good.

Wren readies a Magic Missile at the caster if he tries casting again, intending to disrupt.

5d4 + 5 ⇒ (2, 1, 4, 1, 2) + 5 = 15 force damage

you know, there is a strange fascination with watching a train wreak. Or arval walking into an acid pit. Oh, well, he's tough. Let's try Plan b

whiskyjack, stop arval. He's charmed!

57/76hp

Arval's takes a step forward.
"Is that you?"
Frost slowly forms on his eyebrows, not bothering to shield his face, as he takes another step forward, recognition on his face.
"It is... WHAAAAAAAAAA~~~!"
He yells as he tumbles down into the acid filled pit.

I don't see why you can't make a save, Arval. He said come to him, not jump in the acid. Do like he did and jump to someplace where you can hold onto things.

Wren squawks and admires watches the slow moving disaster.

Lena stares at arval and sighs. oh well, I tried.

Did not consider the reflex save for the pit!

Ref save: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Not sure what save I need and how exactly this works with compulsion, I believe if someone would dare to peek over the side that Arval is clinging on the wall right now?

S$##. I mean, umm...good. I think you made the save as it's a DC20 from the outer edges. You're someplace on the map, and we'll leave it to He of the Coiffed Arachnid Face Growth to decide where you end up.

Wren squawks a warning when Arval jumps to get closer to his foe.

Okay, Whiskey ain't posting so I'll resolve order of events.

As Arval's eyes glaze over, Whiskeyjack recognizes the command spell and does his best to restrain the warpriest.

However, Arval slips from his grasp and heads to the edge of the pit! Thankfully, as Arval skids at the edge of the pit, he realizes what he's doing and leaps to the side of it, ending up close to the priest, but not in a pit. Lena lobs a flask into the pit.

Kawrock holds his action. Very unhappily in the pit, two of the cultists cast spells to heal themselves, while their leader casts an air walk spell and he starts circling the pit as he rises very slowly out of it. The ice storm spell continues to pummel the group.

Everyone takes 25 damage from the ice storm spell! Everyone is up! (44 dmg total) Hopefully with the whole group posting. Lena, roll your alchemist fire damage.

Wren was readying to disrupt that spell, I believe. Need a 29 concentration check to avoid losing spell...10+15 damage+ lvl 4.

Wren squawks again, wondering why no one is understanding her non-human communication.

alchemist fire damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4

"I cannae be healin' ever'one while we be standin' in this hailstorm."

Whiskeyjack recalled the spell he had memorized that morning, specifically to deal with ongoing spell effect. Concentrating, he cast.

dispel ice storm: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

Kawrock falls back, moving out of the ice storm. "So cold! I do not like the cold!"

Double move to get out of the ice storm.

Wren's expertly-timed magic missile slams into the lead cultist, disrupting his air walk spell. He actually wails in despair. Whiskeyjack then calls upon the power of his, much neater God, and the ice storm spell ends before it pelts the group any more.

ICe storm and the air walk are cancelled! You still have actions.

32/76hp

Arval looks around confused and decides it's best to just hammer the closest enemy.
"Wha...? What just happened?! It was you!"
As he speaks he brings down his sword.

Power atk: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (3) + 15 = 18
Intimidate on hit: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (14) + 15 = 29
Dmg: 1d10 + 15 ⇒ (5) + 15 = 20

Power atk: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29
Intimidate on hit: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (19) + 15 = 34
Dmg: 1d10 + 15 ⇒ (4) + 15 = 19

Crit confirm: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
Dmg: 1d10 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17

@Arval - you never fell in the pit. You wound up just on the edge. But will need to make continuous reflex saves every round you're at the edge. Lena, Arval, Kawrock, and Eldon have actions!

Eldon rushes over to Arval with the intention of pulling the mighty warrior away from the edge of the pit, but realizes (though he's not willing to admit it) he's never going to be able to drag the heavy human to safety. Instead of relying on his (lack of) strength, Eldon decides the showy approach is the better anyway.

"Arval, I have come to save you with my great and powerful magic!"

Placing a single hand on Arval's leg, Eldon casts jester's jaunt to teleport Arval to the sturdy floor 5 feet west of his previous position.

Moved Arval along with myself!

We took ice storm damage twice right? And I'm a little confused as to what I need to do right now. I've taken a full round action but I still have actions left?

Ref save before Eldon saves Arval, roll from before the full attack posted above: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

Lena drinks a healing potion

cure moderate wounds: 2d8 + 3 ⇒ (2, 7) + 3 = 12

You took ice storm damage twice. You then walked towards the pit and then did not fall in. Eldon has now whisked you to safety.

Eldon teleports Arval to safety while Lena drinks a potion.

More actions, c'mon people. I'll bot tomorrow if needed.

My previous post, with attacks, was with the knowledge of not falling into the pit. I'll go with that.

My R2 action was to dispel the ice storm

Kawrock takes a moment to heal the wounds from the ice storm.

CMW: 2d8 + 9 ⇒ (4, 3) + 9 = 16

I don't think you're waiting on Wren.

Wren squawks and ruffles her feathers.

potion drinking here. Did we get hit by two ice storms? Damage only tags for one round

Kawrock rushes into the room while Whiskeyjack just avoids falling into the pit. With his spell ruined, the cult leader shouts loudly from the pit in misery. The cultists try to climb out but to no avail.

Everyone is up.