Motteditor's Reign of Winter PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Round 4, Init 7

Tsin hears things, ripping things, and almost loses control of a bodily function or two. That could have been me...

She decides to attack the creature, once, then seek out the edge of the fog. AoO, not sure how far she can go, strategizing on clearing herself

+1 Flaming Falchion of Failure, Power Attack: 1d20 + 17 - 2 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 17 - 2 + 2 = 34
for 2d4 + 13 + 6 ⇒ (4, 1) + 13 + 6 = 24 damage
Miss Chance, High Good: 1d100 ⇒ 18

How long does fatigue last?

Round 4, Init 24

"My beautiful bison is dead. Tsin struggles weakly. You should all get away and let me deal with these." Hektir says, using his echo'd sight to watch Tsin leave.

He takes the opportunity to surround the koko in a wall of fire. He casts the spell, then remains 40' above the beast.

Say radius of 15' around beast. It should take 2d4 ⇒ (4, 3) = 7 fire damage each round it stays within and 2d6 + 10 ⇒ (1, 1) + 10 = 12 if an when it moves through it. Also, might burn off fog.

Perception: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (6) + 17 = 23 Pems moves forward, aiming toward Tsin. As soon as he gets within touching range, he lays on his healing hex for 2d8 + 9 ⇒ (8, 5) + 9 = 22 healing.

Malavarius continues to wring his hands around the grip of his staff, trying to make out what the devil's happening inside the fog. "Blast and bebother this meddlesome fog! Zeno? Zeno! Remind me to figure a reliable way to disperse fog, won't you? Gadzooks."

readied glitterdust again. Sorry I'm not proving much help here, folks!

Sorry for the early post last round, Quinn will keep that action if he may? If so, another 20 healing for the party.

Mal prepares his spell again as Quinn heals all but the two ursine creatures.

Tsin retreats, the fog proving too tenacious, to get even more healing from Pems, while Hektir forms a ring of fire around her foe.

It spins away from its prey and breathes a cone of cold air ahead of it, momentarily guttering the flaming circle as it rushes out the far side, away from the party and back into the wilderness. Its breath weapon is a polar gale, so I'm thinking it could gutter the wall of fire for long enough to move through it; it's now 40 feet away, so 70 feet from most of the party.

The other beast breaths out its own blast of bitter cold, this one targeting Zephtyr 30 hp cold damage, DC 23 Reflex save for half; plus, if you take damage, need a DC 23 Fort save or be fatigued (or exhausted if you're already fatigued), and then begins retreating back across the snow with its mate as Efrixes and Bescaylie join the tracksmage in the relative safety of the sky.

Oh, and fatigue lasts until you rest/heal all the cold damage

Malavarius shivers, his teeth chattering and ice stiffening his beard, as the kokogiaks beat a hasty retreat without his knowing.

Round 5, Init 24

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9 Reflex
1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23 Fort

Hektir chills as the icy blast falls over him. He snarls angrily and giving pursuit. Fly speed is 70'. Moving up to 100' up. He sails higher into the sky to continue to pelt the more wounded, too shy kajagoogoo with lightning.

3d6 ⇒ (6, 4, 4) = 14 Call Lightning vs. DC (2/10)

Will repeat the same next round, almost neverending*.

3d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 2) = 12 Call Lightning vs. DC 16 Reflex for half (3/10)
3d6 ⇒ (6, 5, 3) = 14 Call Lightning vs. DC 16 Reflex for half (4/10)

Quinn slumps wearily as ZephTyr chases the beasts away. "I'll be glad when we're finally back in summer" he chatters through numb lips.

Pems nods at Quinn, feeling exhausted. "Or anywhere with a real bed, with real pillows and real sheets and a hearth and a tall woman with huge... tracts of land." Pems trails off, his eyes glazing.

Zephtyr continues to doggedly and angrily chase the kokogiaks with lightning and anger.

Zephtyr's lightning strikes down the more injured of the kokogiaks, but the second continues to flee.

Bescalie and the badly injured Efrixes remain above the others in the group waiting to see what they do as Zephtyr begins leaving, following the fleeing creature.

Zephtyr (doggedly) zips back to the group, still moving tiredly after his chase.

"I felled one, the other got away. I would not want to face those again," Zephtyr admits. "They...they had so many arms...so many beatings..."

Zephtyr doesn't really look at Tsin, not wanting to shame the victim woman further.

"We should be careful here, apparently. These lands are no more safe than our own."

Zephtyr is ready to continue or rest as the party pleases.

Quinn silently wonders if the party should eliminate the red dragon threat now, before he wastes any healing energy on the creature. Though Efrixes was injured in the fight, it seems too convenient that a dragon rider scout that knows the area just happened to lead the party directly into the path of such dangerous predators.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

You think they were genuinely surprised by the attack -- truthfully, they would likely normally just fly over this whole terrain if they weren't with you and easily could have flown away instead of staying close enough to be attacked themselves by the kokogiaks had they wanted.

Teeth still chattering with ice gleaming in his beard and eyebrows, Malavarius staggers forward shivering. "Oh my. Did any of you know they could breath such frigid air like that? I certainly didn't! The scholars back in Taldor will be thrilled to know this."

Tsin waits, numb with pain, as her wounds close somewhat from Quinn's bursts and Pems's hex. She slowly looks over her shoulder, barely aware that the creatures are retreating. She doesn't care. She stares with the eyes of the dead at those in the sky, betrayers all of them for failing to avoid what should have been certain death. She makes a quiet promise, including each of their names, then wonders if she'll keep it. It keeps her mind off the pain for a little while.

She walks on in silence towards their destination.

Sorry for the delays; trying very hard to get back to regular posting rate. I appreciate everyone's patience.

Tsin continues to trudge forward, as Bescaylie lands.

"אנחנו נפגענו," she says to Pems. "י חושש שזאת איטית מדי ומסוכנת מדי בשבילנו ללכת אל המבצר. אם יש לך שום דרך לעבור במהירות גבוהה יותר, אני חייב לעזוב אתכם כאן וללכת קדימה. אני יכול להודיע להם שאתה "מחדש קרוב, גם אם אם לא מגיע עד מחר בבוקר, נצטרך סביר להניח את הגרוע ביותר."

Pems relays the message that the dragon is hurt and needs to hurry back unless we can move quicker.

Zephtyr shrugs, having no way to make Quinn's mind work quicker after suffering the many tiny deaths of alcohol poisoning, nor a way to energize the oldest of old legs of Mal. Zephtyr can only wave goodbye to the furry elf and look for a place to camp for the night.

Zephtyr shakes his head, unable to get the party to hurry at all.

"We can prepare differently and probably make it in tomorrow. Probably with magics. We'll see. Tell your people not to shoot me out of the skies tomorrow. Or if I should come from under the earth. Pretty much, don't kill elementals that aren't attacking you."

Before Bescaylie and Efrixes depart, Malavarius asks, "I don't suppose either of you have a means of scrying upon your city by any chance? Or a place near to it that isn't warded from magics? If I were able to see someplace you'd like to go, I could whisk us all there in the blink of an eye as it were."

Quinn expels another burst of healing energy...

Channel Heal: 5d6 ⇒ (6, 2, 3, 5, 2) = 18

...but there is little he can do about the exhaustion gripping the group. "Rest would be wonderful, preferably somewhere warm."

"I'm afraid not," Bescaylie responds. "We're simply soldiers, not spellcasters. Perhaps others might be able to do something along those lines, but it's beyond our capabilities."

So sounds like you're going to let them leave/not try to convince them to stay? Tsin was trudging on, but looks like Hektir and Quinn want to rest. I need some consensus.

Tsin pulls to a stop, as Quinn's energy pulses through them all. "Does your healing energy not work on the dragon, Quinn? Or are they abandoning us to our own fates, with monsters like those which almost took our lives? I'll not be caught unaware again. We can't afford to." Tsin levels a gaze at the elemental, but says nothing.

Tsin's fine with resting, if camp can be safely secured. With the remnant of her Judgment, combined with Quinn's recent healing, and Tsin's basically back to black.

The fatigue is only until we heal all the cold damage, so we should be able to do that and continue. If we can reach it today and air walk into the city then let's do that. The channel healing applied to the dragon and rider as well.

"I'd rather we found a safe, warm place to spend the evening. There may be worse threats than giant bears in this snowy landscape." Quinn calls upon Cayden to heal the party's injuries before they continue the trek towards the citadel.

how much healing does each person need?

The dragon is being healed, but he was very close to being killed and they're obviously a bit spooked by that. Considering Tsin just started trudging on again, they weren't going to stick around. If you want to heal and rest, you could try to convince them to stay if you want with a Diplomacy check (or not; it's up to you).

Malavarius looks to Quinn and the others, huffing with labored breaths, "I can conjure up a safe space like I did back in Artrosa if that's what you're after." He then turns to the dragon and triaxian and offers in draconic, "The pair of you are welcome to join us if finding shelter is the name of the game."

That being said, the structure is 20ft x 20ft, and I'm unsure how big Efrixes is. If we plan to press on, it's a moot point though.

The frigid old wizard is currently at 31/59, and would've been a crumpled, frozen corpse if not for his energy absorption ability. He's also quite exhausted, both mechanically and descriptively.

Having made his feelings known, Zephtyr waits for shelter to be created (or he will build one out of snow and Tsin's tears).

Zephtyr is happy to take a turn at watch, if necessary.

Bescaylie looks at the hut and then at Efrixes, realizing the dragon's not going to fit in it.

"Thank you for your offer, but I don't think we would all fit in there..."

Malavarius nods in understanding, though the gesture is halting thanks to the ice in his beard clinging to his belt buckle. "What the- blast it all! Good heavens this place is dreadful! Look at this! Beards frozen fast to belt buckles! There are dark days we're living in, Zeno. Dark days!"

Can you remind me of what the surrounding environs look like mott? Are there any trees nearby for instance for firewood or the like?

Gah! Sorry, thought I'd responded. You're in snowy, mountainous terrain, above the tree line. There's some small shrubbery around but little else. That said, I think I'm going to fast forward a bit...

With no room for them, Bescaylie and Efrixes depart, wishing you well.

"Remember, if you can make it past the siege and help us, I'm sure the commander will give you his bird."

The rest of you pile into the magical shelter, where the night passes mercifully uneventfully.

You emerge into the dimness of the Triaxian morning.

Hektir, back now in his extremely manly form with his manly sized hands, looks at Mal.

"Can you get us inside the keep? Or shall we find other ways inside?"

When they are ready to go, Hektir will do his usual magical protections.

"I've no idea where it is or what it even looks like. We'd be just as likely to wind up in a cave with some hungry kokogiaks if I were to try whisking us off with magic and I don't think that's something any of us would care to hazard." Malavarius shakes his head, his beard wagging with the motion.

He does, however, provide Hektir with his usual spells reinforcing the tracksmage's defenses as well as his sword.

Bumping for you guys.

Malavarius glances to the left and right, tugging on his beard as he considers which way to go. "I don't suppose any of you know which way this city is that dragon rider mentioned? Or perhaps one of you has a map?" When no one produces a map, the old wizard grumbles to Zeno, "Bah! These are dark days, Zeno! Dark days indeed when folk go blundering off into the unknown without so much as a map! I don't suppose you know which way we ought to go do you?"

Zeno sighs and points his wing in the direction Efrixes flew before the group retired for the evening. "That way."

"Ah! Marvelous! Thank you, Zeno." He shoots the others why-aren't-you-as-helpful-as-this-blasted-bird looks as he starts to walk toward the city.

Pems sighs and begins marching, his feet barely dimpling the snow. "It's not so much that I mind the snow, but I've seen enough white to keep me for the rest of my days. Reminds me of that time I delivered a new key for Mister Malavarius and he was sunbathing... naked. So much white.. How does an old man have that much hair in so many places?!?"

Malavarius frowns as he casts a few glances at Pemsworth before grumping with an angry wave of his hands, "I shave it off troublesome halflings, dye it in bleach, and glue it on!"

And in retrospect, knowing we'd have to trudge, Malavarius would prepare 3 castings of mount for our travels. Pemsworth can ride with Malavarius, Tsin, or Quinn, and Hektir can follow along airborne?

Bumping for you guys.

Totes. Sometimes I slow play things to give others a chance to post, and often wish others would help push things along.

After receiving his magical enhancements from Malvarius, Hektir will again subsume his manhood into the airy warrior known as Zephtyr. He is ready to fly along and scout the way until they can get close enough to teleport in or fly in.

Scouting at about 50' up.

Tsin wakens, preparing her equipment and weaponry for the morning trudgery. When Malavarius offers horseback travel, she gladdens for the speed.

One way or another, she moves in the alleged direction of the siege camp, expecting to form a plan for entry once they have a better sense of what they're off to encounter. "Hektir, be a dear, and be useful in your scouting. Your abject failure to help us avoid the Kokogiaks should spur you to want to do better, wouldn't you agree?"

His prayers completed and breakfast consumed, Quinn plods along on the magical steed. "I wonder if the winter here is as unnatural as the winter in our lands? Those Kokogiaks would be a nasty threat to our little Heldren."

will adjust spell list for snowy travel

You resume making your way to the distant fort, Mal's horses making the travel far easier, though the heavy snow and craggy peaks are by no means easy to traverse.

After a couple hours, Hektir spots what appears to be a caravan, several wagons with what are clearly guards walking alongside, making its way in roughly the same direction.

Zephtyr lifts one of his airy arms and gives Tsin the yakkityyak hand gesture in return.

"I'll try to forgive your failings when you forgive mine," Zephtyr says, launching himself into the air.

When he spies the caravan, Zephtyr will float down long enough to report to the team. He will take off and let them decide if they want to try to get information from the caravan or what.

"What's that? A caravan you say? Oh! Excellent! Hopefully they're a friendly sort and can aid in our travel to the fort." Smiling, Malavarius steers his horse toward the caravan.

"I'll try to forgive your failings when you forgive mine."

"Oh, I already have, Hektir. Quinn makes that all the easier with his restorative magics. Doesn't hurt to stay mindful, and I'm perfectly happy helping you to do so."

Tsin tries to study the caravan from their distance, but worries that this encounter will prove just as confrontational as their last several. "Don't move towards them quickly. Don't want to spook them into thinking we're part of the siege." She allows her horse a steady pace forward.

"How will we hail them? In Triaxian as well?"

"That's draconic, actually, my girl. I haven't the faintest idea what Triaxian sounds like. But yes, saying 'hello' seems like a perfectly reasonable place to start, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'll go. I'm non-threatening, I can speak their language, probably. And if things go bad, Hektir can swoop in and get me out." Pems doesn't wait for confirmation, he just begins walking up to the caravan, stepping on the top of the snow without hindrance.

Approaching the caravan, he calls out in Draconic, "Hello! Good morning! My name's Pemsworthy. Can I ask where you're headed?"

Zephtyr hovers way up and out of the way, watching from the sky like a lovely puffy cloud.

Quinn waves cheerily from the horses behind Pemsworth. "Tell them my god will provide alcohol for all!"

aid diplomacy?

The guards -- some sort of strange wolf-like humanoid with snowy white fur and piercing blue eyes -- raise their spears as they notice Pems, but they relax when he hails them.

A Triaxian with a slight paunch leaves the first caravan. He looks over the halfling for a good minute before shrugging and answering in Draconic.

"Where we are headed? Why the siege of Spurhorn, of course! What manner of creature are you. Few things are on this planet without fur or scales..."

Pems grins. "Of course. I am a great and mighty Hellfiredragoneater. I simply cannot be bothered to walk around in my usual form. Scares the natives, you know. I thought this form would be less intimidating. So, you're headed to the siege? I've heard of this siege. Tell me, who's sieging who?"

Bluff: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21