Fog will definitely the the armour and pick. Not having a weapon was a real killer then.
Not sure if you meant "Fog make another roll" or "others can make a roll if they wish" so I'll put this here...Know (Religeon): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 Fog must have taken a blow to the head :)
Sorry for the delayed reply... Things have been a tad hectic.
The gathers around, passing the dead cleric's holy symbol from hand to hand, but despite a fair amount of scrutiny, none of you are able to identify the deity it is sacred to.
Taking the time to equip Fog with the other cleric's armor and weapon, Magda is able to heal-up the party's various wounds, and you are ready to continue exploring the theatre, when...
...screams of panic suddenly echo from the bar area!
"No! Please! Don't, I beg of you"
There is then a series of sickening, wet thuds, followed by cruel laughter.
An elderly Taldan male, dressed in a severe black dress uniform, and wearing the Seal of a Consul around his neck on a thick, gold chain, rushes through the door from the bar, moving with surprising alacrity for someone of such advanced years.
He skids to a halt, nearly falling over, when he spies the party, before quickly ducking behind you.
"I am Magistros Sebastus Hustavan, the Emperor’s consul for the fourth district of Oppara Prefecture, and I command you to protect me! They are in the bar, pithing the others like so many olives!"
Magda: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
Aldred: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9
Wadi: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17
Fog: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14
DQ: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14
W: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7
Fog 1d20 ⇒ 7, DQ 1d20 ⇒ 13
Hustling into the bar area, a chilling tableaux greets you: On the marble floor lie the entwined bodies of multiple combatants. The hands of noble corpses grip daggers, makeshift clubs, and even a gem-encrusted rapier. Mixed in are the twice-dead bodies of zombies, their gray skin fetid
The piles of the dead are particularly thick against the door to the outside world, with another cluster around the bar - the dark wood having provided only a transient barrier to the merciless undead.
However, the ultimate demise of the last few defenders appears to have brought about by a small coterie of warriors, led by a female with flaming red hair, and all dressed alike in chainmail, who wield picks, with which they are systematically perforate the skulls of all of the fallen nobles.
As the party spills into the room, the woman looks up, and grins.
"Well well, what have we here? More grist for the mill! The Harvestman will be pleased..."
She then swallows a potion, causing her muscles to bulge, and prepares to charge!
From the top of the order, if you please :-)
Reflex: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7.
The red-headed woman charges towards Fog, Wadi's flames engulfing her, but failing to bring her down!
Moving to AD 34.
She then takes a mighty swing...
MW Heavy Pick: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24, for 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 damage.
...which narrowly misses Fog's head, slamming into his shoulder instead.
Fog and Aldred are up.
Magda shifts over behind Fog tracing the sihedron over her heart and reaches out to ward Fog from further harm.
Move to AF 32, behind Fog. Wand of CLW is in hand.
Restore his ward. AC back to 19, +2 saves.
I'm going to lower her AC this time instead of focusing on her saves. Coming up next unless emergency healing takes priority.
EDIT: just realized the other guys are going to go before me. This action remains the plan unless the minions force a change so that I need to heal instead.
Aldred slips around to circle behind the woman while singing a crusader's song from the Church of the Dawnflower for Fog's benefit.
Fog grunts when the pick punctures his shoulder and steps back swinging his own pick in a counterattack fueled by fury at the room of dead bodies and this infidel worshiper of some lesser god standing over them proud of herself.
From his post I think Fog has declared a readied action to intercept the charge with a counterstrike, but she beat him in init so it would be just a regular attack. So let's delay him to take advantage of inspire courage and flank
Fog's MW Heavy Pick 1d20 + 4 + 1 - 1 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 4 + 1 - 1 + 2 = 17 power attack, two handed, inspire courage, flank
Damage 1d6 + 3 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 3 + 3 + 1 = 8
She has -2 AC from the charge so that should do it (assuming that was mechanically a charge and not just descriptive). It was a gamble for significant damage increase.
Move to set up a flank with Fog @ AC 35.
Fog, canny warrior that he is, delays until Aldred is able to move into position, distracting the red-head long enough for him to deliver a vicious blow to her torso, causing her to blanch, groan, and sway for a moment, before she shakes her head, and glares at Fog with hate-filled eyes.
The two remaining warriors snarl, and move up to flank Aldred, delivering vicious swings of their own!
W1 to AB34, W2 to AD36.
W1, MW Heavy Pick: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 + 2 = 23, for 1d6 ⇒ 4 damage.
W2, MW Heavy Pick: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 + 2 = 12, for 1d6 ⇒ 3 damage.
Everyone else is now up :-)
Aldred feints like he is going to stab at the last cultist standing, then breaks around behind him before he can react.
Acrobatics 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19 (to avoid AoO) move to AA35
Aid Another on Fog's attack 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Fog's attack gets:
+1 inspire courage
+2 aid another
+2 charge if you want it
Sorry, haddn't realised we'd gotten to the next round!
Fog jumps forward with the pick Atk: 1d20 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 1 + 2 + 2 + 2 + 4 = 24 (Inspire, flanking, aid, charge, and wielding two handed) Dmg: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Sorry about the unexplained absence, guys; let's get things moving again :-)
Fog steps forward, and with a mighty swing, downs the single remaining warrior with a single blow!
Magda then steps forward, retrieves the fallen woman's pick, and then systematically crushes the fallen warriors' skulls like so many ripe melons.
As the sound of combar ceases,
The elderly Consul pokes his head back in through the door.
"Ah! I see that you were able to despatch those foul fiends! Your service to the Empire will not go unrecognised!"
He then clears his throat.
"Perhaps you could find some way to get out of this building? Until that happens, I hereby deputise you to be my bodyguards; you should be honored - it is not every day that a bunch of adventurers is allowed to guard a Taldan official of such high office..."
As the Consul speaks, the body pile behind the bar begins to move, and a half-dozen bruised, battered, and blood-stained nobles crawl forth, looking more shocked by the fact that they have survived, than anything else.
Perception checks if you wish to search the bodies, please :-)
Wadi grimaces as the Taldan noble announces his latest 'promotion'.
What a pompous, arrogant fool he is. Taldan nobles are a dime a dozen. Still he may know something of where these cultists came from...
Standing over the corpses of the warriors, he replies in a neutral voice, "We are honored by your ennoblement. Now, if you overheard anything these cultists said, it might give us a clue on how to get out of here."
Perception 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Hustavan does his best to smooth down his ruffled robes, and comb his hair, as he stretches to his full height, and preens.
"Indeed you should be. I am afraid that I do not know much; I was concentrating more on preserving my life - it would be unfair to the Empire if I allowed myself to be killed."
He pauses thoughtfully for a few moments, before continuing.
"The red-head did mention something about a fellow named 'Bustrani' being downstairs with the Stone, though..."
A search of the bodies turns up:
MW Heavy pick x3.
Heavy Steel Shield x3.
Chain Shirt x3.
Short Bow x3.
Loyalists of the Grim Harvestman, our time has come!
My plan to recover the stone, blessed by our beloved Harbinger of Unexpected Tragedy Himself, has succeeded beyond my wildest hopes. The fool Pathfinder I convinced to journey here has fed the strength of our Lord by encountering an unexpected tragedy of his own. His hard work for Grim was not in vain! Come to me at once, at the appointed hour and place, and we shall lay out a bounty before mighty Zyphus that He won’t soon forget. When Pharasma, hated cretin, lies slain in the bowels of hell and our mighty harbinger rules the afterlife, He will reward His faithful few with everlasting life and power of unspeakable might! Come to me, brothers and sisters, come to me!
"Of course we are honored to guard you, Hustavan. Now, unless you can think of anything else you heard, I'd advise you to duck and cover just a bit longer while we go look for this Bustrani!"
After Alie's outburst, Hustavan deflates slightly, and swallows hard.
"I-I would rather not; there might be more of them... How about I just follow along behind...?"
He then straightens his shoulders.
"I don't think anywhere in here is truly safe at present; you lot would seem to offer me the best chance of survival..."
"You are free to follow us, just be very careful. We will do our very best to keep you and all of us safe! Stick close to me then," Alie explains to the nobleman. She had not been oblivious to the sneers from her friends at the noble's demeanor. If he was with her, the rest would be less troubled about keeping him safe. She could cast her spells from a distance, and watch out for him.
Fog looks at Wadi, "I agree, it's as good a place as any." turning to the consul, he plants the handle of the pick firmly on the floor, and leans on it. "Anything attacks us, you stay back. Don't go running off though, we wont be coming looking for you. I have some small powers of healing, but I've exhausted most of them in that last fight." with that, he turns and stomps off after Wadi.
Exiting the westerly door from the bar, Wadi and Fog, with the rest of the party hurrying along behind them, enter into a gaudy, marbled hallway with finely carved pillars, the white floor split by a deep violet carpet.
However, the effect is rather ruined by the most recent additions to the decor: Various parts of a score or so corpses, along with several horifically mangled, but otherwise whole, bodies, lie strewn about the floor. Blood and gore stain everything, making the floor slick and filling the room with a metallic aroma. Bodies lie askew, mouths hanging open in silent screams, faces contorted in fear.
Wadi: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Fog: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Magda: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14
Aldred: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
You may act in the surprise round.
Alie: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Wadi: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20
Fog: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1
Magda: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Aldred: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Initiative, Surprise Round: Magda, Wadi, Alie, Aldred, Zombies, Fog
Four of the bodies begin to twitch and moan - an elderly man, his throat torn out, and his eyes bulging; a matronly woman dressed in a soiled black satin gown; a young blonde-haired belle, her lips blue, and cheeks sunken; and a foppish young man with mutton-chops and a broad, handle-bar moustache...
...as they stagger to their feet, you cannot help but notice that they are former audience members; the bite marks of the zombie horde being all too evident all over their bodies... marks which weep a pale green, slightly phosphorescent, pus.
Only Alie may act in the surprise round.
Startled by the undead, Alie's shot goes wide, striking Wadi in the back of his head! Fortunately, the raw energy of life causes no harm to the young sorceror.
Meanwhile, the zombies stagger to their feet, reaching eagerly for the living flesh that is oh so near at hand...
Round 1: Magda, Wadi, Alie, Aldred, Zombies, Fog
Wadi winces as the energy ray impacts his head without noticeable effect. Just how many of these zombies are there?
He steps back so as to catch the two closest zombies with his spell and lets fly a burning sheet of flame.
5' step to W37
Cast Burning Hands at Z7 and Z9 damage 2d4 ⇒ (2, 4) = 6 Reflex DC 14 for half
"Sorry, Wadi....my bad," Alie nervously laughs. When they got of of this trouble, she and he would be sure to share a laugh at that one.
She fires off another bolt at the undead.
Ranged Touch 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Damage 1d6 ⇒ 1
Once the others have fired off their magic, Fog steps forward, and swings the pick. "These damned things just wont stay dead!"
Atk: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 DMG: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
For the love of Sarenrae! Urgh....