Motteditor's Reign of Winter PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Pems begins casting, as Tsin and Hektir focus on the humanoid foe, its flesh sizzling as fiery blade and fist hit it. The latter blow knocks it from its feet as it crumples in a heap.

The creature flinches back as Mal's scorching rays hit it, but then it gestures a tentacle toward him as Quinn grants his deity's protection to Tsin. Mal, DC 22 Will save, please, or be dominated and ordered to stop Pems' spell.

Will Save (DC 22): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

Malavarius frown again and shakes an angry fist, "Hah! You'll need more than that too, you devil!"

Round 5, Init 16

Tsin continues to feel the effect of the denizen, which makes her think twice about pulling her bow, and firing upon the creature. "Quinn, you wouldn't happen to have flight up your sleeve today, would you?"

Can we reach the creature with melee? How high up is it?

It's hovering near the 20' ceiling, but it's large...so it's 10' up? Reachable with reach weapons?

Yeah, 10 feet up makes sense, so yeah, reach weapons should be able to ... er, reach it.

Round 5, Init 8

Smoldtir looks up at the flitting moth bumping against the ceiling and groans. He begins to suck in air, sucking in more and more air until he becomes a bigger, and much badder, Zephtyr!

Stnd action to go to large air elemental. 2/4 used today.

Zeptyr spins and whorls to the ceiling, about 10' away from the foe.

Oh man. BTiLC. Whatta movie.

Malavarius looks quite self satisfied as the others press in on the moonbeast. He crosses his arms and nods as if that were that, but then notices the wand in his hand. He blurts with a start, "Oh! Oh my, I nearly forgot!" then sends another trio of flaming beams ripping through the air.

Scorching Ray 1: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19for: 4d6 ⇒ (5, 3, 6, 5) = 19
Scorching Ray 2: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18for: 4d6 ⇒ (6, 2, 6, 1) = 15
Scorching Ray 3: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14for: 4d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 6, 3) = 21

Quinn complies with Tsin's request and grants her the gift of flight. "May Cayden free you from the constraint of gravity."

cast Fly on Tsin

Pems finishes his spell, sending the swarm of bats toward the creature, even as he turns his evil eye on it once again.

Tsin launches herself into the air at it, once of the bats happily interposing itself between her and a tentacle it sends her way, and her blade cuts deep.

Mal's blasts seem to dissipate on its hide as Hektir grows, effectively becoming a huge bag of hot gas.

Ignoring the bats, the creature focuses on Tsin. None of the wounds themselves are that painful, but her stiffened limbs allow it to hit repeatedly and cuts soon cover her body 61 hp as a dull rage fills her mind DC 22 Will save or take 1 point of Wisdom drain.

Round 6, Init 11

Will Save v DC 22: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19

Tsin tries to give as good as she receives.

+1 Flaming Falchion, Power Attack, Sacred Justice, Bane: 1d20 + 17 - 2 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 17 - 2 + 2 + 2 = 27 for 2d4 + 13 + 6 + 1d6 + 2d6 ⇒ (2, 2) + 13 + 6 + (1) + (4, 2) = 30 damage, including fire

Iterative: 1d20 + 12 - 2 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 12 - 2 + 2 + 2 = 25 for 2d4 + 13 + 6 + 1d6 + 2d6 ⇒ (4, 2) + 13 + 6 + (2) + (1, 3) = 31 damage, including fire

"Quinn!! I won't be able to withstand another barrage of its tentacles!! Keep me conscious, I've almost finished it!!"

Updated Zeph's ACs for large air form. See spoiler for breakdowns.

Round 6, Init 8

"I got this, Tsin, *hic*," Zephtyr exhales moonshine breath. "Go back down."

Zephtyr, flanking with Tsin, pounds away.

1d20 + 14 - 2 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 14 - 2 + 2 = 33 to hit; (-PA,+flank)
1d8 + 8 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 8 + 4 = 18 magic damage.

1d20 + 9 - 2 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 9 - 2 + 2 = 21 to hit; (-PA,+flank)
1d8 + 8 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 8 + 4 = 17 magic damage.

Tsin and Hektir's blows take their massive toll, and the creature suddenly plummets to the ground, no longer moving. Damn; it still had half its health at the start of that round -- of course, it defended against a lot of elements, but not fire.

Zephtyr bops about the ceiling like a moth for a bit before coming down to breeze around the room, bumping like a fly in a window.

Eventually, he bumbles back down to pick up his 'shine jar. Finding it empty, he searches the room for drink and fun things while he waits for Mal to stop complaining and Tsin to stop bleeding.

1d20 + 21 ⇒ (8) + 21 = 29 Perception

"What the blazes was that?!" Malavarius waves his hands in the air in alarm briefly as he looks wide eyed at the fallen moonbeast. "It's a tricksy thing, whatever it is. Probably had that poor sap under its thrall." The wizard gestures to the crumpled heap that was formerly the robbed stranger who'd first greeted them.

Pems' body seems to sag as the frost fades from his eyes abruptly. With a wave he dismisses the bats. "I don't know, Mal. Those things are pretty foul on their own. I don't know if it needed the goad to be terrible."

"What the blazes was that?!"

Tsin descends, bloody and witless, circling Malavarius as she sets down. "That? That large hideous danger that had ensnared an evil minion to lure us to it? That would be the last mistake you ever make, if you for one moment let your guard down, and waddle about, complaining about our path when we need to kick stones out of our way." She stares daggers into the man's beard, imagining a sharp point held there in a moment of mutually-assured destruction.

She cleans her blade on the hooded robe of the denizen, then moves to the priest, giving his shoulder a manly squeeze in appreciation. "Thank you for following so closely, Quinn. The gift from your god is always welcome. And you Pems, for your warding. Quick thinking." She sees Zephtyr hovering about, and nods respectfully. "Even you, Hektir. I can ignore your insults all day, as long as you can bring the damage you bring to our enemies."

She moves to both moon-beast and Denizen of Leng, and searches them for well-earned loot.

The floating creatures has a small black glass ball, 3 to 4 inches in diameter, that radiates magic.

The denizen of Leng carries a pouch of gems containing 15 small rubies worth 100 gp each and a single larger ruby.

As you inspect it to determine its worth likely about 6,000 gp under normal circumstances, you realize it contains a small, moving humanoid figure, which appears to be trapped inside the gem.

Quinn heals Tsin while the party peruses the newly acquired items. "Those were some nasty travelers, did they happen to have any moon-beast-shine with them?"

Malavarius' confusion turns to wrinkled anger as Tsin rebuffs him. "Mind your words, girl! Keep swinging that silly stick at people because you don't like the look of them and some stink-faced butcher'll come along and not like your look before too long. Good heavens, Tsin, after all we've seen do you still really lack the patience to think? To consider?" The old wizard throws up his hands in frustration. "For pity's sake, simply being isn't cause enough to go removing peoples' heads from their shoulders!"

He then scoops up the orb and the person-filled gem and waves anyone who comes up to him off with a terse, "Give an old man some space will you? Can't you see I'm looking at this?"

Spellcraft (DC 24): 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (3) + 20 = 23
Knowledge (arcana) (DC 28): 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (15) + 20 = 35

Shrugging, he tosses the orb over his shoulder dismissively. "Bah. Fancy costume jewelry, no doubt." Holding up the ruby though, he strokes his beard sagely with his other hand. "This, on the other hand, is some poor soul that tentacled monster trapped... oh, Nethys-knows how long ago. How dreadful!"

"Even you, Hektir. I can ignore your insults all day, as long as you can bring the damage you bring to our enemies."

"What insults? I consider you one of the guys. This is how we talk to each other. Sheesh..." Zephtyr mansplains as he keeps looking for things of interest.

Zephtyr's air head swivels to Quinn, appreciating the man's thoughts.

"Moon Beast Shine? Oh, I bet that's really good..."

"Maybe you can milk it for moon-beast shine, like a cow?" Quinn grabs Hektir's empty 'shine jar and sets to doing things to the corpse of the moon beast, with only the good intentions of a Caydenite, that likely will invoke the ire of it's ancestors and future generations.

I'll, uh, I'll just wait to break this ruby open and free the poor sap inside until we're done with the bickering and unspeakable mangling of tentacled corpses. Yeah. That seems good.

Spellcraft DC 24: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (13) + 16 = 29 "Sir, I think this is more than a trinket. It's an eye of the void, I've heard of these." Pems gingerly collects the magic item from where Malavarius has tossed it.

"Mind your words, girl! Keep swinging that silly stick at people because you don't like the look of them and some stink-faced butcher'll come along and not like your look before too long. Good heavens, Tsin, after all we've seen do you still really lack the patience to think? To consider? For pity's sake, simply being isn't cause enough to go removing peoples' heads from their shoulders!"

Tsin crosses her arms, keeping them at bay. "Exactly what did you expect would have happened when we encountered the moon-beast? Afternoon tea?? A creature radiating evil, separate from its master, and I considered enough to understand the danger far better than you. Do not lecture me on patience. You would simply wait until we have been struck to then strike back? That's a pitiful way to approach danger. And our path has been nothing but wrought with danger. Remember where you are, old man. This is a twisted charade of a garden, likely Baba Yaga's. There is little patience for denizens, here or further down our path."

Turning away from Mal, she petitions Quinn. "Would you be able to restore a bit of my flexibility? The slave sapped some of it."

-4 Dex, -1 Wis

Zephtyr spits, looks around some more.

Frustrated with the lack of production in the moon-beast-shine efforts, Quinn turns his attention to Tsin's wounds. "Would've been nice if we could have got a single jar, that thing must have been recently milked."

ummm, for some reason unknown to myself I've left restoration off the daily spells list, gadzooks, I'm worse than Mal!

Everyone is worse than Malavarius, Quinn: Malavarius is amazing!

The old wizard harumpfs and waves one hand dismissively at Tsin's back as she turns to ask Quinn for the aid only Cayden can provide then turns his attention back to the gem in his hands and the tiny person trapped inside. After regarding the jewel for a few long moments, he declares, "Do you know, I rather think I can set this poor sap free. What say we give it a try, eh?"

Once everyone expresses their readiness, Malavarius sets the gem on the ground before him then raises his staff in both hands before bringing it down atop the soul-holding stone.

"How do you know it's a 'poor sap', Mal? What if it's a creature trapped, and angry once set free?" She turns from Quinn, to study the jewel. Detect Evil?

If she doesn't feel it, she doesn't press. "If you've considered what you may unleash, I won't stop you."

As Mal breaks the ruby, it lets loose a puff of azure smoke, which quickly forms into a 10-foot-tall blue humanoid wearing elaborate robes. Art coming at some point.

"Oi!" he exclaims! "A little time in there will give you such a crick in the neck!

"Whoa! Does it feel good to be outta there!" he adds as he stretches. "Nice to be back, ladies and gentlemen. Hi, where ya from? What's your name?"

He says, looking Mal up and down.

Tsin, you do not detect any evil.

Zephtyr goes back to bumping around the ceiling, enjoying a few moments of flight and the buzz of his moonshine. He occasionally takes a sharp eye to the newcomer, but lets Mal or Tsin instigate the fight that is sure to come before stepping in.

Can't fail that planes check! woot!

"Ah! A mercane! How delightful! Pleased to meet you, indeed. Ah, ah, Zeno? Zeno! Blast it, Zeno, help an old man! What's the name of that place we're from again? The sunny one."
"Taldor! Taldor, you old wrinkled goat!"
"Ah, right right." Malavarius turns back to the mercane. "Taldor. We're from Taldor. Oh! And my name is Malavarius. Malavarius King. How do you do?"

"I do quite well, now that you've freed me from that gem. Quite a bother that was. I can't thank you enough. Taldor, you say? I've never heard of it. Sounds like a dreadful place, though. Unless it's not."

Tsin eyes the blue humanoid coldly, but sheathes her blade, and allows Mal to engage in the blather. "How long have you been imprisoned in the jewel? Do you have a name? From where do you come?" She remains nearby, in case things take a turn for the worse.

"Ah, my manners. Who could I. I'm called Zilvazaraat, with two Z's, a V and four A's. As for where I'm from, well, I'm a peddler of wondrous
wares from across the Great Beyond. I'm not sure how long I've been imprisoned in that jewel. I don't even know when it is right now, do I?"

Zephtyr lets out a gaseous expulsion that may or may not have been a symbolic greeting and floats down to near the being.

He listens. He spits.

"I'm pretty sure it's right now." Pems says, in a slightly confused voice. "I'm glad you're free. Being trapped in a gem seems like a terrible fate."

"Truly a blessing from Cayden, freedom is holy!" proclaims Quinn with his ability to turn everything into an expression of his god. "And Cayden must have meant for us to free you, so that you could reward us with the extra-planar liquor we had desired. See Hektir, Cayden does provide!"

Zilvazaraat nods at Pems' words.

"Indeed. I would only wish it on my three worst enemies. No, seven worst! Maybe six?"

At Quinn's words, his eyes brighten.

"Ah, you have desires? I certainly must be getting back to my business -- if any of it survives -- but I would be happy to help you, my rescuers. Would you perhaps have goods to trade?"

Oooo, he's a Ballchinsian!

Zephtyr spits.

"We might have some good stuff to trade. What you got? And how did you get in that gem thing? Why did that thing have you?'

"What have I got? Treasures like most can't even imagine! Shields that protect you against demons; longbows of incomparable make, a gem that can summon a fire elemental, and more!"

He details the following items: a +1 defiantUE (chaotic outsiders) mithral buckler (5,155 gp), a +1 darkwood composite longbow (+4 Str) (2,830 gp), an elemental gem (fire) (2,250 gp), an oil of bless weapon (50 gp), a ring of sustenance (2,500 gp), a stonemist cloakUE (3,500 gp), a scroll of searing light (375 gp), a scroll of elemental body I (700 gp), and a wand of see invisibility (38 charges) (3,420 gp)

"Or, should you wish, I can find items that your heart desires!" he concludes, before muttering, "though that might take me a few days."

Stonemist Cloak.

Zephtyr listens intently, thinking if he has anything to trade. From what he understands about the magickery offered, he has no interest in anything which is good considering that he has nothing to trade.

"Hmm...you didn't answer the question of how you got in that little gemmy thing."

"Ah, it's a sordid tale and not one I enjoy recalling. But a human wizard I had some dealings with captured me, though I can't say exactly when. I'm afraid I have no idea how I ended up in the hands of this denizen of Leng or the moon-beast you have here."

"That's a clever ring", admires Quinn, "I'd be glad to purchase that from you." Quinn dips into the savings for his crossbow upgrade to purchase the ring.

Mal should have one of those at least, only 2 hours rest to regain spells

Zephtyr spits and decides he needs nothing more from the thing, but might in the future.

"I don't need anything now, but might later. Where can we find you? Or how can we reach you again?"

Malavarius beams as the mercane proves not only friendly, but helpful as well. "Ah, but I say, Zilvazaraat, you're a welcome sight, my friend." Somehow articulating the planar merchant's name correctly on the first try, and eliciting a look of surprise from Zeno in the process, Malavarius continues, "Do you know I rather like having an assortment of wands. I'll happily take that one you've got there off your hands. But the lumpy eared one there does ask a good question: provided we needed to, how might we find you again?"

"Ah, simplicity itself. I would be a poor merchant if I couldn't get a regular clientele. Here, take this," he says, handing you a glassy black statuette of a bird.

"Simply say my name to it and it shall animate. If you then tell it 'Xidruxaalat,' it shall fly into the air and send me a message, at which point I can come to your side and we can engage in trade."

"Ah! Delightful! A helpful bird at last!" Before the wrinkled mage can accept the figurine, he cringes beneath a storm of angry pecks from Zeno. "Helpful! I'll show you helpful you senile old coot!"

"That's convenient!" Pems studies the little statue.