The Bell Tower rings and heralds a new morning in Final City. A light haze if smoke rises from the south east districts of the city. they were recently hit by a crab-like kaiju and are still undergoing light reconstruction. Nothing this city hasn't seen before. Luckily a Lastguard team was able to bring it down before it did too much damage.
You've arrived at the Lastguard Redoubt to meet your new teammates. You are greeted at the front by one of Cronoas many administrative Clockwork Familiars
"Welcome welcome! i was about to mention that you are .223 minutes late, but i wouldn't want to confirm the clockwork stereotype. ta-ha!" its gears click and whirr as it swoops down to land near you. "You've been instructed to meet up with your new teammates at the far end of the training yard. Right this WAAAaaaaaaaaay!" the odd construct flaps its mechanical wings and expects you follow it.
In the Training yard, warriors spar, mages cast their spells at dummies, and teams are rehearsing maneuvers they've developed specifically for taking down Kaiju. Identical clockwork familiars flutter to and fro conversing with or running errands for Lastguard members.
Once everyone listed as your teammates has a arrived the mechanical bird flutters again an chirps "Ah yes! that appears to be everyone ta-ha! it would seem introductions are in order! I am your teams Cronoan Regulatory Operative. I am here to assist you answer any questions you have and to serve as your teams direct link to Cronoa's clockwork hivemind. ta-ha! You may call me Cro, though many in the lastguard do provide endearing nicknames for their Cro unit."
"and you are?"
A tall woman clad in leather armor with a longsword on her hip and a wicked-looking bow on her back is led into the training ground by the clockwork creature, her stride surefooted and bearing a haughty, almost feline grace. Her auburn hair is tied back into a fishtail plait and a pair of small horns sprout from her head; this spark of fiendish heritage is echoed in her yellow eyes and in the long, thin tail hidden beneath her black cloak. When she comes to a stop, her stance smoothly shifts into parade rest.
Her posture is strict and she is clearly well-stocked with supplies even now, pouches hanging off one side of her belt while the other side bears an elaborate-looking quiver of dyed black leather with a red Archstar emblazoned on it; such seems to be the only prominent display of infernal iconography on her person.
When prompted for an introduction, she speaks in a crisp voice, "Akoriya Ashstrike, Erinyes-style ranger and mistress of the hunt." Her molten gaze turns to rove over her new allies, considering each of them as she awaits their introductions.
|Khar'Tenet, the Ghoul King|
With a methodical, almost frustratingly slow walk, Khar'Tenet reaches the desk. The tall, menacing figure's faded purple cloak flutters in the non-existing wind, revealing the tainted mithril covering his skeleton. The chipped and worn sword in his arm is drawn, as the Grave King doesn't appear to have a scabbard on him, or any supplies for that matter. The broken crown on his head shines in the morning light, as he slowly turns his head towards the Cro.
"You... amuse me, metal creature.", he whispers in a cold, echoing voice, his jaw unmoving, as he puts a gauntleted hand on his chin. "How very... efficient of the mechanism to keep an eye on all of us in such manner..." He raises his head and looks around, as two empty sockets meet Akoriya's eyes. "I am Khar'Tenet, High King of Elathan, the Roamer of a Thousand Battlegrounds, the Dark Prism, the Thrice-Reborn, the Eternal Scorn and the Bane of the South"., his voice raises. "Yet in those uncivilized lands and times, I judge 'My Lord' to be acceptable.", he finishes, turning away from the clockwork as if to hint he's finished with it for now.
"Huntmistress Ashstrike...", his permeating whisper turns towards Akoriya. "I'm certain I've never had the pleasure of entertaining you in my palace, though your name has indeed reached my... ears." His face remains as motionless, although one could swear that if there was any flesh on his face, there'd be a charming smile in front of the adamantine teeth. "I was unaware I'd be a part of a... team.", he almost spits out the word, "with you."
The next man who arrived would look out of place at a meeting of kings and legends. Average height and build, along with a rather plain but not unpleasing face, lent him an air of someone who you would pass on the street without a second glance. His battered Mithral plate armor was adorned with a tabard that shows a snarling wolf's head on it. Like all of his gear, it appears functional but not particularly elegant. He had a shield strapped on his back and a longsword strapped on one hip.
He walked like a professional soldier and his close-cropped dark brown hair add to that impression. Stepping up, he said quite simply "Hello. Name's Corso. Pleasure to meet ya." and then he extends a hand out to Akoriya and Khar'Tenet in turn.
A figure in brightly shining full plate steps gracefully forward. The armor seems to catch everybody of light that passes by it and reflect it back in a brighter sparkle. Massive feathered steel wings emerge from the figure's back. Their dark burnished sheen is in stark contrast to the shining coppery-gold armor that encases the rest of the figure. In the center of the breastplate is a symbol in polished silver and red, a bleeding bandaged fist clutching a longsword within a sun. This symbol is repeated upon the silver buckled on her wrist.
The armored figure reaches up and removes its helm. The face within is that of a young woman. Her fine features appear to have been forged from cold iron. Her shining silver hair is braided into a halo atop her head. Her sad eyes contain a silvery glow with a fierce defiance.
She places her helm at her hip above a simply decorated, but clearly fine sword that matches the tone of her skin and wings. "Alara Lightborn, chevalieresse of Dalenydra, holy blade of Iomedae, reporting for duty." Her silvery voice ringing clear in the busy yard, with just a touch of quiet brittleness in the morning air.
She stands at attention for just a moment before stepping back in line. Her gaze carefully avoiding Akoriya's quiver and the skeletal king to the best of her ability. With a momentary bowing of her head a faint whisper can just be heard, Sisters please forgive me for those who's company I must join, our shared adversaries must take precedence."
Corso will extend his hand in greeting to Alara as well. "Nice to meet you too, lady paladin." Looking from Alara to Khar'Tenet, Corso would add "Why don't we all agree to keep our group secular? That will probably be the best way to handle things. Seem reasonable to everyone?"
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Approaching the group is a hobgoblin, which in and of themselves is a rarity considering that the hobgoblin race was almost completely wiped out fighting the Kaiju far earlier in the year. At his side and just behind him is a massive bugbear of extraordinary physical fitness and mass. On their persons are numerous pouches, loops, and tools indicative of being a siege gunner. The hobgoblin carrys a musket on his back and has numerous metal cartridges slotted in his equipment. They both reek of gunpowder, iron, and blood.
"Would've been here sooner, if I hadn't been in the southeast district." he says, his accent clipped but unfamiliar. "Bogrun had to drop the cannon during the kerfluffle." Imagine a cockney accent, but I'm not going to butcher people's eyes trying to write that out.
"Sorry." the bugbear replies, rolling his eyes."You try carrying it sometime, boss."
"Anyways," the hobgoblin says, making no effort to shake any hands. "I'm Hobbe and this is Bogrun. I'll be your firing support. I do the shooting, and Bogrun hauls the cannon and keeps the little buggers off me while I work." he clarifies. "If we can get some of the other siege guns up and running I can direct those too."
"We brough our cannon from home." the bugbear booms. "She's special."
Hobbe shrugs. "He's got earplugs in still." Hobbe explains, pointing to his ears.
"Nice to have siege weapons. That'll really help things along. Guess I should mention what I do, but it's probably faster to show you. Anyone wanna spar? I haven't had my morning workout, and could always use the exercise."
An elven woman in gray battle wizard's robes follows the clockwork closely, gliding just above the ground at a brisk pace. She looks around at her companions, analyzing them,
Hmm... lots of different types here. A paladin, an undead tyrant, a hobgoblin, and a tiefling. Sounds like the start of a joke...
Introducing herself, she speaks in a firm, clear voice, "My name's Arathadali [smaller](you can call me Ara)[/url], former student of Olórin of Manwë, master of the arcane. Good to meet you all."
|Khar'Tenet, the Ghoul King|
As the soldier introduces himself, Khar'Tenet greets him with a nod. "By all means, Corso.", he replies, as he takes a slow step to stare down at the winged warrior. "I am certain that our cooperation will be flawless. After all,", he turns his empty sockets towards the aasimar, "It would be most selfish of us to put all those innocent souls in this place at risk by challenging the methods of those by our side, wouldn't it?" His slow, methodical walk ends up in front of Alara. "And besides. In war, misguided zeal is a suitable alternative to pragmatism." The undead unfurls his tattered cloak in a theatrical bow, extending a hand of bone and metal towards the paladin, eyes unwavering as he stares her down. "I do look forward to working with you, Alara Lightborn."
The hobgoblin's introduction draws the Lich Lord's attention, as his eyes are drawn to the cannon. "Such a magnificent engine of destruction. I remember when the trebuchet was introduced, and yet the drive of the mortal mind to slaughter each other more thoroughly never seizes." He looks down at the hobgoblin, his nod of acknowledgement apparently sincere. "We are the last of our people, Hobbs. Let us butcher the last of our enemies before we are laid to rest."
As the arcanist presents herself, Khar'Tenet bows for the first time. "Warlock.", he greets, the words uttered as a title of respect. "Your guidance in the matters of the immaterial will aid us well."
At the mention of a spar, Khar'Tenet's head turns towards Corso. "By all means, Corso.", he whispers, before turning his sword in his arm, plunging it into the ground. "I would be most happy to oblige." The soil around the blade dessicates and grays, as he grabs the hilt. "To first blood?"
"Of course. We're trying to kill giant monsters, not each other." says Corso as he clears some room for a sparring ring, then loosens his blade in it's scabbard.
You wanna to just describe this out or roll some dice?
lets roll em! First to hit the others AC.
The din of the training yard quiets momentarily. The other clockwork familiars land and watch.
Is there any actions you'd like to take before I roll initiative for you both?
To each of her allies, Akoriya considers them as they introduce themselves. A smirk of satisfaction is given to Khar'tenet; an unwavering, ten second long stare is given to Corso's hand as the tiefling refuses to leave parade rest to shake it; a second, vastly more fiendish smirk is given to Alara; Hobbe and Bogrun could quite easily get the impression that she isn't even looking at them, but rather their equipment; Arathadali receives a simple, polite nod.
"In a gathering such as this," she concedes, watching Corso, "Some degree of secularity is a virtue."
As the sparring ring is cleared for Corso and Khar'tenet, the tiefling moves to a better position to watch what is about to unfold, dirt and loose pebbles scuffing beneath soft leather boots, and shifts back into her well-practiced parade rest when she once more comes to a stop. Molten eyes rove over both warriors, drinking in every detail she could of their stances and eagerly anticipating the fight to come; aside from the bright spark of her eyes and roaming gaze, however, her expression has fallen back into a cool mask of stern impassivity.
The aasimar gives a bow to the elven mage when she steps forward. "Mistress of the arcane arts, you are welcome here."
Alara gratefully reaches out and clasps Corso's outstretched hand. "Well met, I thank you for your plea of moderation. I look forward to working with you."
She relenquishes his hand as the Khar'tenet offers his own greeting. For a moment she simply stares at his proffered hand, then a hesitant handshake follows. "I agree, so long as we maintain our common cause, I will not interfere with your efforts."[B] Her grip grows firm and her voice cold and hard as steel, [b]"But be aware, should your interests turn away from the monstrosities we face I will do everything within my power to stand between you and those in need."
Relief floods her face as the lich's attention is drawn away as the mismatched pair of goblinoids approach. When their introduction is complete a somewhat stunned expression passes over her face at Corso's ofder. She shakes her head and holds up a hand, "I will not face you. My place on the battlefield is not one primarily of wrath. I am first and foremost a healer. I fight only when those who cannot are threatened." Nonetheless she helps make a space for the two to spar.
"That's all well and good Lady Paladin, but swinging a blade is a perishable skill. Practice or perish, as we used to say in my homeland." As he does so, Corso whips out his blade with a flourish and then bows at Khar'Tenet over it. "When you are ready."
|Khar'Tenet, the Ghoul King|
"A wise saying.", whispers Khar'Tenet as he raises his sword, following the other man's flourish. As he steps into the arena, the skeleton levels his sword at his side in a defensive stance. Yet, for all his words, Corso can easily spot a multitude of flaws are visible in his stance, from his uneven footing to the lax grip around his sword, to his high centre of gravity. The sword jerks in his arm, ready to defend.
I'm ready for initiative! Just let me post the combat stats when it comes to it - though I'm pretty sure in our current situation, the winner would be the first one to roll a 20.
|Khar'Tenet, the Ghoul King|
With slow paces, Khar'Tenet marches forward, raising the blade at Corso. His head glances at the warrior's stance, as the undead's mouth opens ever-so-slightly, as he suddenly leaps forward. His jump is carried on unseen gusts of wind, towering in the air above Corso for a brief moment, before lunging downwards in a fierce swing, before remaining hovering in the air. The sword crashes in the warrior's shield, yet even as it does so, shadows and mind-numbing whispers fill the area. The massive gauntlet in his left fist curls up in a ball of skymetal, as he readies himself to the fighter's answer.
So, Khar'Tenet will use his Osyluth's Guile, while fighting defensively.
His sword's Defending property is activated, gaining +5 to AC in return for removing the attack and damage properties. (I'm working this out here for the first time as well!)
Attack, Charge, Power Attack, Fighting Defensively, Higher Ground.: 1d20 + 30 + 2 - 6 - 4 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 30 + 2 - 6 - 4 + 1 = 33 The higher ground would be simply him standing a foot or two off the ground for extra leverage. Not necessarily a thing, but I felt being on a nimbus of dark energies to be appropriate.
AC is 49, -2 for a charge, +3 for Fighting Defensively, +13 from Osyluth's Guile and +5 from the sword for a total of 68. (wow.)
Problem with the sword would be the 2d6 negative energy per turn, but if I could turn it off, I would!
As the Khar'Tenet's blade comes in, Corso seems almost surprised, clearly about to meet his doom, and then at the last possible moment he pivots and allows the blade to slide off his shield with a loud SCREECHHHH sound.
"Not bad, although you should probably keep your wrist locked at the last part of your lunge; that will make it harder to slide your blade off of a shield." Corso says, as if instructing a student. His demeanor never changes, however, and his face is completely calm as he launches his return attacks.
Attack Rolls: 1d20 + 43 ⇒ (9) + 43 = 521d20 + 38 ⇒ (10) + 38 = 481d20 + 33 ⇒ (7) + 33 = 401d20 + 28 ⇒ (18) + 28 = 46
Damage Rolls: 2d8 + 23 ⇒ (1, 3) + 23 = 272d8 + 23 ⇒ (3, 2) + 23 = 282d8 + 23 ⇒ (5, 4) + 23 = 322d8 + 23 ⇒ (1, 7) + 23 = 31
If any of those actually land, he'll immediately end his sequence. I would attack you for non-lethal, but you're immune.
As her teammates trade blows Alara kneels. She sets her helm on the ground beside her foot and draws a leather scrip from her pack. She sets it down and unrolls it. Making sure that all her bandages and ointments are organized she remains kneeling, one hand on her healing kit, and looks back up to watch the fight. Dalenydra guide me. If Corso wins, how do I heal a lich?
|Khar'Tenet, the Ghoul King|
"Indeed...", the quiet whisper from the lich's mouth seep through. As the flurry of blows rains upon him, he shifts through the air, his own blade echoing into the blows, adamantine crashing against adamantine. Sensing the advantage, he presses on the advantage once more. "Your swordsmanship does your teacher proud, warrior.", he utters, beginning to thrash the blade furiously against the defense, which once again doesn't give in. A flow of darkness once again begins to stem from the blade, but is turned away with a regal gesture. Khar'Tenet utters a few scolding words in a language long dead at the sword. "Hesh vaakir bvad re bvad!" The metal teeth click once more.
Attacks: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (17) + 21 = 38
Attacks: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (15) + 16 = 31
Attacks: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29
Attacks: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
Usually his attack penalties won't be as severe, since he's more than ready to take a blow, and he'd use magic.
|Khar'Tenet, the Ghoul King|
Sounds good to me!
Smashing and thrashing!: 5d20 ⇒ (3, 7, 6, 20, 8) = 44 That'd be the last attack in next round for me, but Corso goes first.
As they're not 2 in a row, it's not a crit.
Damage: 1d10 + 9 + 2d6 ⇒ (10) + 9 + (6, 4) = 29
Smashing and thrashing!: 5d20 ⇒ (14, 18, 9, 9, 20) = 70
Smashing and thrashing!: 5d20 ⇒ (6, 3, 11, 17, 8) = 45
Smashing and thrashing!: 5d20 ⇒ (13, 9, 11, 13, 7) = 53
1d20 ⇒ 4 1d20 ⇒ 10 1d20 ⇒ 11
1d20 ⇒ 7 1d20 ⇒ 15 1d20 ⇒ 4
1d20 ⇒ 20 1d20 ⇒ 5 1d20 ⇒ 16
1d20 ⇒ 17 1d20 ⇒ 6 1d20 ⇒ 13
1d20 ⇒ 6 1d20 ⇒ 14 1d20 ⇒ 6
1d20 ⇒ 5 1d20 ⇒ 8 1d20 ⇒ 7
1d20 ⇒ 13 1d20 ⇒ 8
EDIT: Looks like he beat me by three rolls!
Khars ghostly blade finally grazes Corso's glaringly un-ghostly flesh.
The crowd heaves a communal sigh and begin murmuring amongst themselves, discussing technique and the potential of the newcomers.
A Cro swoops down near Corso delivering a faintly glowing golden potion before mechanically fluttering away. It has a label with very official looking letters reading 'Potion of Cure Exactly One-Hundred Hitpoints.'
Once the gathered crowd disperses, a timid looking skeleton breaks away from a nearby troop of skeletons. Wringing his bony hands nervously, he approaches Khar'Tenet. "Uh...m'lord? I...well, I uh. I heard some of the other skells mention that uh... well that you're King Khar'Tenet. And uh, I just wanted to say hi and that I'm actually from Gryzmull, you know , originally."He stands a little more proudly but only for a moment as if remembering he is a skeleton. "Um, I don't want to take up much of your time, but I just wanted to say it's an honor... and let me know if you ever, uh, need anything."
He can run mundane errands for you when within Final City.
As the spar draws to a close, the auburn-haired tiefling breaks her parade rest to begin a round of slow applause. In the same crisp tone as earlier, she says, "Very good. I believe we stand a solid chance against the kaiju."
Hobbe shakes his head. "No... we don't." he says, his clipped accent lilting as he sighs. "Sword skills like that mean nothing compared to the scale of what we're dealing with. What is he going to do, chop its ankles until something important gets within reach?" he drops into a squat, grumbling. "If you'd seen the crab from earlier you'd know what I mean. Individuals with their swords thinking they're going to make a difference are just touting false hope."
Though, he'll be damned impressed if Corso actually does cut one down.
"You need spells, or really damn big guns, to hurt something like that kaiju. I mean, unless you're secretly over a hun'red feet tall and aren't telling us." Hobbe's words aren't conveyed in a cutting matter, more in a way that infers that he's trying to let them down easy.
As the swordplay draws to a close, Alara prepares to see to Corso only to have their clockwork guide dispense aid. "Ah, that will work." She rolls up her scrip and slides it into a pack not much bigger than it.
Standing she replaces her helm. "We have no choice. This is our last bastion. We will stop them, we will slow them, and we will fell them. Or the united races will fall and civilization will end, and the Material Plane will belong to the kaiju." Somehow the musical quality of her voice is not dampened by her helm. "So we will find a way and succeed."
|Khar'Tenet, the Ghoul King|
As the lich's frenzied strikes find a gap, he seizes the assault, spinning the blade in his hand. "Magnificently done, Corso. Had I five more of your ken, perhaps Elathan wouldn't have fallen after all...", he grimly whispers.
At the skeleton's heed, Khar'Tenet stares down. "To not recognise me at first sight would be a grave offense, were we in Gryzmull. I should dismember you for your cowardly retreat, yet I would be a fool to not realise the futility of fighting alone." He pauses. "I may have need of your servitude soon. Now go and make yourself useful to the mortals of this realm. None of us has a moment to waste." His hand gesture indicates that the skeleton is free to leave. Insolent, perhaps. Yet adaptable., he thinks as he makes his way towards the conversation about weapons.
Grasping the hilt of his own sword, Khar'Tenet turns towards the Goblin. "Your words speak wisdom, green one. Yet blades have been used before the beginning of time, and so they shall until the heavens grow dark and the hells bright."
"The Kaiju, despite their might and stature and magnificent capacity for destruction, made a fatal mistake.", he utters, throwing a look at the paladin. "They attacked us all. Had they started with you, I would've watched and laughed." His talons grip tighter. "As you would have undoubtedly done for me. Not even I recall if light and dark have worked together before, and I've existed since longer than all of you combined."
He hovers once more in the air, lifting his sword. As his mouth opens, a horrifying sound as if the crashing of tombstones echoes throughout the keep.
"We will ride against them will all the spite and hatred we can muster! We will cut them down until they are but shreds, and feast on their corpses! We will carve the names of the fallen in their hearts, and we will leave the rest to rot as a warning to all, who dare challenge this realm!"
Diplomacy/Intimidate to bolster the spirits/bloodlust of Lastguard.: 1d20 + 36 ⇒ (18) + 36 = 54
Lastguard Bolstered! Everyone add 1 to your maximum hit points.
Corso: You don't have to drink that potion right now. Sorry for the confusion.
"Ta-ha! I say, your posthumous optimism is indeed infectious!." rambles Cro. "This reminds me of a time with my previous regiment when this young pyromancer thought he could..."
Cro abruptly stops speaking mid sentence and remains absolutely still but for the clicking and whirring of his internal mechanisms. A flashing light glows from within his clockwork 'eyes'.
You notice the other Cros in the training yard are similarly still.
Still squatting, Hobbe notices the Cros all pausing and the corner of his mouth twitches. He elbows his partner in the leg. "Bogrun. Looks like we're up." he says, adjusting his bandoleer as he stands. "Get the cannon, we've got monsters to kill."
He draws his musket and loads it, slipping an adamantine bullet cartridge into the breech-loading weapon and snapping it closed. "Ready to move?" he asks. At that point Bogrun returns, a massive shining steel siege cannon somehow hefted onto his shoulders. "Yes, boss." Bogrun replies.
Corso again offers his hand to Khar'Tenet and says "See, this is why training is necessary, and doing it with different people teaches you new things. My grandma used to say that when you stop learning, you're dead." Corso will nod thanks to Cro and drink the potion. He will then clean his blade and sheath it; as he raises his head from doing so, he notices the cros' behavior. Upon hearing Hobbe's reaction, Corso says "You're probably right, but I hope not."
|Khar'Tenet, the Ghoul King|
The undead nods at Corso. "Being dead never stopped me from learning new things, Swordmaster." Whether the statement is a jest, a threat, or even an invitation to the ranks of the undead is entirely conceived by Khar'Tenet's unblinking visage. "If they wish to rush the hour of our vengeance, we should be everso welcoming to accomodate them."
Turning towards the Cro, Khar'Tenet tilts his head. "Are the words of your Siegemaster true? Does a beast approach?"
And just like that, a vicious grin works its way onto Akoriya's features. Her stance shifts at once, from a practiced rest any soldier would be proud of to something... looser, yet quite obviously ready to spring into action at half a second's notice. She wastes no time in turning her attention to the clockwork critter assigned to the group, "Shall we begin our preparations, or shall another group be handling this? Oh, I hope it's us... I don't like spending too long away from the hunt."
Even as she speaks, the tiefling reaches up to retrieve Hell's Kiss, as she's oh-so-affectionately dubbed the bow, and hold it ready.
"Bother. So, how long do we have? Xavak, do you see anything?"
Next to her, there's a momentary distortion in the air as something small and invisible hovering by her shoulder becomes something big and invisible, and jets straight into the air.
Xavak spends a free action to transform into a Huge dragon (side note: are the dragon forms allowable by Form of the Alien Dragon and Form of the Exotic Dragon allowable shapes for Shapechange? if so, he'll assume the form of a Sky dragon, otherwise it doesn't matter) and Fly/Run 240 feet straight into the air every round until he can see if a kaiju is coming.
Fly Check for straight up (DC 20) (taking 10/auto-succeed): 10 + 39 - 4 = 45
Perception: 1d20 + 24 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 24 + 10 = 46
Just a note: this is a list of the spells Ara currently has active:
A * indicates Xavak has it active as well
Mage Armor (+4 AC)
Mind Blank (+3 v. mind-affecting, immune to divination)*
Brisked Shapechange (Free action shapeshifting) *But not Brisked
Foresight (Never flat-footed, +2 to AC, Reflex)
Visualization of the Mind (+5 to Int-based skills)
Tears to Wine (+10 to Int- and Wis-based skills)*
Moment of Prescience (+23 to any check, save, attack, saving throw, or AC)*
Aroden's Spellbane (Mage's Disjunction, Antimagic Field, Feeblemind, Energy Drain)
Greater Prying Eyes (Commanded to monitor everything within 2,000 feet of Ara and report back on anything invisible, shapechanged, or otherwise disguised or hidden)
Contingency (If subject to any harmful transmutations, curses, or enchantments, immediately Break Enchantment)
Communal Stoneskin (DR 10/adamantine)
Greater False Life (2d10 + 20 ⇒ (4, 5) + 20 = 29 Temporary HP)*2d10 + 20 ⇒ (10, 9) + 20 = 39
Cool. Alien and Exotic dragons should be fine for Shapechange. We might have to have a talk about the 10 min/ level spells being active all day. But I'm not gonna worry about it for now.
A blaring warning sound erupts from the various Cro scattered throughout the courtyard. A calm and tempered yet incredibly loud voice also emminates from the Clockwork ravens.
"This is the Cronoan Early Warning system! Imminent Kaiju Attack! Proceed calmly to your assigned shelter or defensive positions." The other Lastguard Members shuffle around each other, everyone moving deliberately in different directions.
Xavak is out of range for his telepathy but though your empathic link you feel a sense of anticipation from the Imp turned Dragon.
"Direction of Kaiju Attack:1d4 ⇒ 1...Northern Mountains.
Reporting Scouts: Jonas Rank and David Fyle.
Incoming visual from CRO unit 'Sarge': "
Your Cro emits this Silent Image from a magical projector in his chest cavity.
"It is time." Alara unfurls her wings and launches skyward. As she rises the buckler on her arm unfolds, first to a light shield, then to a large shield. "let us bring it to its knees!"
"Right, called it now didn't we?" Hobbe grumbles, looking at the silent image. "Now that's a right scary one. I knew dragons bred with everything, but whole mountains, now that's new."
"Good one sir, Ta-ha!" - Cro snaps back to his chipper voice and personality. "I say we better get moving. Messers Rank and Fyle won't be able to hold that thing back, that is if they even try this time."
any questions before we Roll Initiative?
I mean, I'm casting at CL 23. If I recast in the mid-day, two castings a day last 8 hours. If you prefer me not to, well, no problem. Shapechange would be active most the time though (even if I can only Brisk it twice/day). I can always pick up a rod of Extend Spell for it, if you prefer. The others I can metamagic normally.
Ara looks on with grim determination, soaring into the air with the help of aetheric waves. Meanwhile, Xavak resumes his form and position at Ara's shoulder.
Good to roll for me.