Round 4, Init 12
AC = 24, Warded
HP = 93/93
Weapon Equipped = +1 Falchion
Condition(s) = Stoneskin (56), Guidance
Judgments = 2
Bane = 5
Tsin steadies herself, her foot slipping on something viscous on the floor. As Quinn tags her, she settles into a grim satisfaction that the creature decided to remain put. "Foolish little thing, aren't you? Those quills won't do..."
Hektir grunts.
"That's it, Tsin, hit it right there again!" Quinn continues supporting the swordswoman.
Pems sends a ray of frost at the spiny jerk. for cold damage!
Hektir: 8
Pemsworth: 20
Malavarius: 16
Tsin: 12
Quinn: 10
Antagonist: 11
Hektir slams the creature again, again stabbing himself on its quills as Pems nearly hits him with a wild ray of frost.
It averts its eyes from the fiery Zeno, avoiding the worst of its effects, but inadvertently leaves itself open for Tsin's blow, which separates its head from the rest of its body. The body seems to stand on its own for a few moments, as if it were as undead as the panthers, but then slowly topples to the ground.
Puk: 50; dazzled 1 round
Malavarius pumps one hand victoriously in the air, "Ah hah! Well done, my girl!" The old Mage then scratches at his chin thoughtfully before adding, "I don't suppose any of you know what a Pukwudgie was doing here?"
Pems looks at Mal, his eyebrow raised. "I don't even know what pukwudgie is, Mister King. But it smells horrid."
"I don't even know what pukwudgie is, Mister King. But it smells horrid."
"Yep, even worse than Hektir." Quinn wrinkles his nose and moves away from the beast (the Pukwudgie, not Hektir).
Tsin wipes her blade off, using her boot to nudge the creature's head, allowing her to see the face a little more clearly.
"It's like a menagerie, a witch's menagerie. Baba Yaga attracts rather horrible gnats like this. Hags, undead, fey... Are we to expect more undead, with this little thing around?"
Tsin readies to move in the direction of the next obstacle.
ZephTyr floats and flutters above the Pug until he is sure it is re-dead, barely paying attention to the noise below him. When he combat is finished, he zips about, looking for more dangers before bumping into Pems and Quinn, seeking healing.
healing
healing
healing
healing
ZephTyr breathes angrily, annoyed at the undead and the room and the chase that never ends in this tri-labrynth of the witchydamned.
Perception - room
Other than the various corpses littered around the room, Hektir finds little of interest.
Passageways lead to the north and northwest.
In the pukwudgie's leather smock, you find a jagged bone knife that seems too thin and frail for combat.
It's a bone razor: If used to perform a coup de grace on a helpless living creature and the creature dies from the attack, the creature's flesh begins to peel off and its bones animate as a skeleton under the command of the bearer of the razor. The creature's flesh is not destroyed, but decays at a steady rate. The bearer of the razor can spend 1 minute reattaching the flesh to the animate skeleton, which ends the necromantic magic and results in a normal corpse (though a corpse of a person killed or mutilated by knife wounds). If the bearer uses the razor to flense and animate another creature's bones, the previous animate skeleton is immediately destroyed.
Malavarius examines the blade briefly before turning his nose away in disgust. "Gah! What a dreadful thing! Who would even make such a tool?" Frowning at the dead pukwudgie, the old wizards harumpfs, "Shouldn't be any surprise a devil like that would keep such a blade. Still. Utterly revolting. Bah."
Pems' lips curl as Mal examines it. "That is despicable! No wonder there were so many dead things gallumphing about. This place is just full of horrible things and terrible people. I'm almost considering a summer place here, near the local lake of blood."
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Quinn finishes his latest bottle and then puts it on the floor and gives it a mighty spin. "Observe the power of Cayden and the benefit of controlled chaos, the bottle shall show our direction." When the bottle finally stops spinning Quinn points definitively in the direction of the bottle and declares it the path. "That, my friends, is our direction."
The bottle leads toward a passageway that slopes upward, curving back on itself twice before it finally opens up into a small landing before another flight of curving stone stiars. A large black iron cauldron sits in the middle of the landing and a ring of runes surrounds the base of the cauldron, which contains a bubbling and steaming multicolored stew. To the east, a small table sits against one wall with six glass jars on it.
"This has to be the most unregulated structure in all of Golarion, with bubbling cauldrons in hallways, perhaps Cayden approves of this place?" His trepidation overcome by curiosity, Quinn investigates the cauldron and the table with glass jars.
Zephtyr whirls and storms, wondering which way Quinn is going to go. Zephtyr examines the six jars, perceptioning the jars if necessary.
"Witches and their cauldrons. Bah." Malavarius sniffs grumpily before turning a wary eye to the runes. "Pemsworth, lad, what do make of those, hmm?"
Surprise!
As Quinn moves toward the cauldron, Hektir has just enough time to see that the jars in fact contain what look like spices and are even labeled -- “alicorn root,” “delicious,” “devil’s dung,” “dreamspice,” “hag balm,” and “witch’s kiss” -- with a wooden ladle next to them before a miasmal form roils out of the cauldron's mist.
Barbed tentacles emerge from the central mass, coalescing into razor-sharp talons and claws as one swipes across the young cleric's neck.
It's a mihstu, a type of deadly combatant and merciless hunter from the elemental plane of air.
Hektir:
Malavarius:
Pemsworth:
Quinn:
Tsin:
Antagonist:
Pems jumps when Quinn yelps. He stares at Quinn and wishes him Fortune!
Round 1, Init 19
Zephtyr moves to pummel the mistbeast, flying into a position where others might flank it.
to hit;
damage.
AC 3 NA + 2 dex + 2 dex + 1 ring +3 barkskin +4 mage armor= 25
HP 93/93 - DR5 piercing
Mage Armor (9 hours)
Endure Elements (24 hours)
Resinous Skin (180 minutes)
Barkskin(180 minutes)
Greater Longstrider (9 hours)
Fly 60'+10'=70', Darkvision
Combat:
Attack: +6 BAB +5 Str +1 Amulet =+12
Slam: [ dice]1d6+7 [/dice] slam damage.
AC 7 armor + 3 shield + 2 dex + 1 ring +3 barkskin +2 ProtEvil = 28
HP 93/93 - DR5 piercing
Mage Armor (9 hours)
Endure Elements (24 hours)
Resinous Skin (180 minutes)
Barkskin (180 minutes)
Greater Longstrider (9 hours) - +10 to all movements
Magic Weapon from Mal: (9 hours) +2
Tsin looks the bone razor over with some interest. "I imagine this would make deboning the pigs at slaughter a piece of cake. We should save it for Perkin, should we ever make it back to Heldren."
...
Surprise Round, Init 22
AC = 23, PfE
HP = 93/93
Weapon Equipped = +1 Falchion
Condition(s) = Stoneskin (56), PfE
Judgments = 2
Bane = 5
She lets the boys know all she can about how best to deal with it.
Tsin makes sure her robe is tuned to punish those who would violate her personal space. She whispers for protection from Pharasma, readying herself to close distance on the airy beast.
Mal, you realize these things can completely envelop a creature and then drain all their blood, tears and other vital fluids ; also, the churning winds of their body deflect projectiles .
Tsin, non-magic weapons have difficulty harming them and they are indeed resistant to magic. Happily, they are susceptible to cold, which can stun them.
Quinn: 16*
Malavarius: 10*
Tsin: 22
Hektir: 19
Pemsworth: 17
Antagonist: 16
Tsin casts her magic as Hektir advances around the creature, which easily ducks aside from his airy blow.
Pems lends fortune to Quinn, but it's not enough as the cleric takes another claw across his face, the tentacle wrapping around his head
Hektir is similarly unfortunate, two sets of claws raking his elemental body and then wrapping around him.
Malavarius tugs his beard in alarm as the creature descends upon Quinn. "Quinn! Don't let it grab you glassy-eyed fool! That devilish cloud is liable to drain all the blood from your blasted body! The same goes for you, Hektir! Gah!"
Hoping he's quick enough to spare Quinn and Hektir from being exsanguinated, Malavarius tries to send the foggy foe back to the elemental plane of air from whence it came.
HP: 52/52
AC: 11 (11 T / 10 FF)
Fort: +3 // Ref: +4 // Will: +8 (+1 vs spells, SLAs, & Su abilities of evil arcane spellcasters)
Resist 5: Cold
Energy Absorption: 0/27 absorbed
Pearl of Power I: 1/1 used
Cantrips Prepared (4): detect magic, open/close, prestidigitation, read magic
Level 1 Prepared (4+2+1): endure elements [X], feather fall [ ], protection from evil* [X], mage armor [X], shield [ ], snapdragon fireworks [X] [ ]
Level 2 Prepared (4+2+1): glitterdust [ ] [ ], resist energy* [X] [ ], scorching ray [ ] [ ] [ ]
Level 3 Prepared (3+1+1): dispel magic* [X], fireball [X] [X], greater magic weapon [X], haste [X]
Level 4 Prepared (2+1+1): remove curse [ ], secure shelter [ ], stoneskin* [X] [ ]
Level 5 Prepared (1+1+1): break enchantment* [ ], dismissal [X] [ ]
Protective Ward used: 1/8
Ongoing Effects:
Raven Plague: ???
mage armor (Hektir): 9 hrs
mage armor (self): 9 hrs
greater magic weapon (Hektir): 9 hrs
stoneskin (Tsin): 90 minutes
resist energy (Tsin): 90 minutes
Round 1, Init 22
AC = 23, PfE
HP = 93/93
Weapon Equipped = +1 Falchion
Condition(s) = Stoneskin (56), PfE
Judgments = 2
Bane = 5
Tsin closes distance with the creature, unsure of Malavarius's attempt to banish the creature. She hopes the creature reacts to her robe in the manner of its tales.
Pems' eyes go wider as Quinn and Hektir get grabbed by the fog monster. He lets out a growl, and throws a snowball at the thing. for cold damage! Fort save DC 16 or staggered for 1 round!
0th - ray of frost, detect magic, light, message
1st - cure light wounds () (), snowball (x) (), ear-piercing scream ()
2nd - cure moderate wounds (), flurry of snowballs (X) (), summon swarm ()
3rd - fly (), lightning bolt ()(), rimed flurry of snowballs ()
4th - neutralize poison (), rimed ice storm (X), phantasmal killer ()
"Eehhhaggg!" Quinn gurgles as the thing wraps a tentacle around his throat. With a pop the cleric vanishes from the grip of the beast and reappears behind Tsin. "Look out, that thing is more clingy than a naive farmer's daughter."
Tsin gasps for a moment, worried now that the creature can destroy opponents instantaneously. Until she hears Quinn's voice behind her. "Quinn, intentions. If you pull out suddenly without stating your intentions to do so, you'll always disappoint your partner."
Quinn: 16
Malavarius: 10
Tsin: 22
Hektir: 19
Pemsworth: 17
Antagonist: 16
Quinn extricates himself from the creature's grasp as Tsin closes in, her blade cutting through the creature.
A second later, it pops out of sight with a rush of air, as Mal's spell sends it ... somewhere, leaving you alone on the landing.
The cauldron, still full of stew, continues to steam.
"Ah, there. That Hektirian Fart Mihstu shouldn't bother us any longer. Dreadful things though. Positively dreadful. Now then, did it happen to leave my good hat behind before I sent it off by any chance?"
Tsin startles as the creature disappears in front of her. Almost without thinking, she spins on her heels, hoping it's only Quinn behind her at the moment. Only then, does she relax.
"Ah, there. That Mihstu shouldn't bother us any longer. Dreadful things though. Positively dreadful."
Tsin grows quite interested in the recent exertion of magic. "What exactly did you do to it, Mal? Can you now do that to anything that stands in our way? Or are there limitations?"
"Hmm? What's that? Oh, why I sent it back to its plane of origin, my dear. Well, either there or some other plane entirely. It's hard to tell, you know. Magics like that can be a bit... 'fiddly'. And no, it won't work on any bothersome witches or centaurs or giants or giant witch centaurs. It only works on things not from here originally, and even then it can still be resisted if their will to remain is strong enough."
"So Hektir could take to his blustery form, and not have to worry about you sending him off to the Plane of Air, right? Very interesting, all of it. A shame we can't target witches with it."
Tsin moves a little closer to the bubbling cauldron to inspect it.
"Right you are, my dear. On both counts actually."
The cauldron radiates heat -- and the stew inside bubbles and steams -- though there's no fire below it. A ring of runes surrounds the base of the cauldron.
The runes read, "Spice is the variety of life."
Zephtyr is happy to be freed of the mistybeasts tentacles, and swishes around happily when freed. He even swishes so hard as to pick up Mal for a moment.
Zephtyr takes a moment to examine the cauldron with experienced woodsman's eyes, but sees nothing of interest.
Prof (Woodsman)
Quinn sighs in relief as the thing disappears, "Worst stew ever, I'm not eating that." Then after a moment the cleric sniffs toward the pot. "Unless it's good, those are spices on the shelf, and hallway stew is surely free to any travelers." Still unsure, but a bit hungry, Quinn studies the cauldron.
"Yes, yes. You're quite welcome, Hektir. Now, lad, you can put me back down. I'm an old man, don't you know."
Malavarius regards the runic script for a moment and, after a sage tug on his beard, declares, "I can't hardly make heads nor tails of this chicken scratch. Maybe Baba Yaga's blasted hut wrote it."
"The items in the jars. Mal, Pems, any inklings as to their purpose? Quinn, might this be some kind of religious ritual?"
At the mention of 'hallway stew', Zephtyr floats down to examine the stew more deeply. He, too, knows the universal rules about free stews and who may claim them.
He drools from his airy position, waiting for Quinn to try some out and let me know how it is.
Hektir has just enough time to see that the jars in fact contain what look like spices and are even labeled -- “alicorn root,” “delicious,” “devil’s dung,” “dreamspice,” “hag balm,” and “witch’s kiss” -- with a wooden ladle next to them before a miasmal form roils out of the cauldron's mist.
The spices sit on the table along with the ladle as the stew bubbles merrily along in its cauldron.
Tsin looks over the spices, selecting the hag balm. She opens the jar, smelling it first, before dropping a bit of it into the cauldron. She stands back for a moment, watching the bubbling for signs of change. While she does, she closes the jar again.
"Mal, what do you make of it?"
"Yeah, Mal. What of it?" ZephTyr breathes.
Pems leans in, reading the words carefully. "It says spice is the variety of life. Wonder what that means?"
"What? Make of what? How should I know? I'm no more an expert on witch's brews than that lump of rock in the corner over there!" Malavarius glowers before waving one hand dismissively at the table and jars. "If you lot want to play at being cooks, then be my guest! Just don't put me in the middle of it!" The old wizard then storms grumpily across the chamber, distancing himself from the spices and cauldron and culinary foolishness that is likely to ensue.