Motteditor's Savage Tide (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

"I'm starting to feel unwanted." Khazmia says, though with none of the panicked self pity that has marked her conversation the last few days.

"What do you suppose that is supposed to do, other than block the path?"

"Dunno", replies Sekathral. "Might be some sort of a tribal totem. Urol, mate, you able to shed any light on this?"

"I'm starting to feel unwanted." Khazmia says, though with none of the panicked self pity that has marked her conversation the last few days.

"Why would you feel that?" Silvio exclaims. "Is it because your unfortunate appearance? If it is Silvio can assure you that we are not troubled with it. Not one bit. Besides, Silvio's good friend Kyson has cured you of your ailment, so you should be back to looking lovely in no time!"

"Why would you feel that?" Silvio exclaims. "Is it because your unfortunate appearance? If it is Silvio can assure you that we are not troubled with it. Not one bit. Besides, Silvio's good friend Kyson has cured you of your ailment, so you should be back to looking lovely in no time!"

Khazmia quirks an eyebrow and silently counts to three before answering, "I *meant* because it appears they have blocked our path, are trying to keep us out, etc."

Kyson cringes as Silvio correct points out that the hideousness of Khaz's face is still mostly his fault. Even though he feels tremendously guilty about it, he continues to help the fallen colonists back on the path.

"Yeah, sorry! I'll fix Khaz's face tomorrow. You betcha! Oh wait...does anyone have 100gp in diamond dust? Uh, that's kind of important."

Khaz, tell me again how much you're down in stats?

Zstelian studies the grisly marker. "This island is just full of friendly surprises."

The old ranger looks for signs of footprints and possibly indicators of how long the birds have been here.

Perception +4 vs animals, +2 vs humans: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (19) + 15 = 34
Survival +4 vs animals, +2 vs humans: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (19) + 16 = 35

There are no signs of footprints. It's not clear how long the birds have been there, but you're sure they weren't before you made camp. The birds don't appear to have been dead for more than 12 hours at most.

currently down 6 charisma and 6 con

"I don't think I have any Kyson. Maybe the people that made the bird fence will have some to trade. "

Kyson awakes early, as he usually does, and looks over to Khaz's mangled, droopy face to ensure that his cure has held. If it has, he will pray to the morning sun for wisdom and healing to aid his friends.

When he is finished with that (and maybe even Khaz has joined him), he will tend to Khaz's hideousness.

1d4 ⇒ 1 Lesser Restoration (Charisma)
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18 CL check vs. DC 20

1d4 ⇒ 2 Lesser Restoration (Charisma)
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9 CL check vs. DC 20

1d4 ⇒ 2 Lesser Restoration (Charisma)
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11 CL check vs. DC 20

Aw crap.
Aw crap.
"Aw crap," Kyson says, looking over Khaz' face. "Uhm. This rot is harder to fix than I thought. I'll try again tomorrow. This might be much easier with some applications of diamond dust."

Kyson looks like he's about to throw up.

Khazmia feels like she's about to throw up. "Th-that's ok, Kyson. Maybe Saranrae has some plan that requires me to look and feel this way." She continues to slump forward.

"That can not be right. Like all good goddesses Sarenrae appreciates beauty. The dawnflower would never act in a way to force such a lovely lady like yourself to be stricken by such a unfortunate visage. No, if anything there is devilry afoot!" Silvio says surely.

Kyson looks over the birds with his hands on his hips, tipping from toe to heel and back again as he ganders.

"What is that all supposed to mean?" Kyson scratches his ass as he tries to remember back to all the books he's copied in his life, trying to find a connection, ever so remote.

1d20 + 14 ⇒ (1) + 14 = 15 Know (religion) - significance/symbolism
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24 Know (history) - any note in the past

Kyson is happy to focus on anything other than his failure with Khaz, something that his hurting him almost as much as she hurts.

You don't know of any symbolism that you can think of, and are pretty sure it's not been in any history books you've read or copied.

"Well, let's move on. On a good note, I can create food again, as needed. So we should be okay for food as we travel."

Kyson packs camp and is ready to move on.

Urol has nothing?

Zstelian shakes his head. "Well there's no sense in trying to worry over it - whatever it was supposed to mean. We're going to Farshore regardless", the old ranger explains.

"Kyson, are you done with Khaz? If so, we need to be moving again."

"Yeah"

Sekathral gets up from the rock he'd been sitting on, having a smoke, and shoulders his pack.

"Up anchors. Best keep an eye out, too, in case whatever made those ain't friendly"

Moving on, you spend most of the day traveling the path, again winding along the coast rising and falling as it goes.

After about 10 miles, up ahead, the path comes to an abrupt end, looking out over the bay. Nearly 60 feet above, it continues along its southern route. A bamboo platform hangs near the upper path's edge, suspended by several vines draped over a log driven into the cliff face above. The other ends of the vines hang down the clif face and are attached to a second log at waist height on the lower ledge.

Below, a dozen or so abandoned huts line a wide but rocky beach.

"Farshore is smaller than Silvio was expecting", Silvio remarks as he stands heroically on the edge looking down on the huts below.

Kyson looks down upon the huts and agrees readily with Silvio.

"Yeah, that looks like crap. Urol, is this all there is?"

Kyson looks around from his higher vantage point.

1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30 Perception

"Well, should we go down there? Silvio, you first?"

Zstelian clears his throat. "I don't think that's Farshore. More natives maybe?"

"No, no, that's not Farshore. I think it must just be some small village. But it doesn't look like there's anyone there anymore."

The gnome had been strangely silent but seems to come out of his reverie.

"Sorry, I was thinking. I don't think those birds mean anything that I know, but they're very odd. I don't think it's Olman at all, though."

Sorry, forgot about poor ol' Urol.

Recalling the angry spirit the party encountered at the last abandoned settlement, Zstelian frowns. "It's abandoned for a reason..."

"But we could use a resupply. Let's see what we can find", the old ranger suggests.

"I sure hope there is a shop that sells ink for scrolls. And maybe some damsels who need rescue or something. It would be nice to have a pretty face to look upon," Kyson says hopefully, not mindful of Khaz.

Sekathral kicks Kyson "lightly" on the ankle, hissing "Careful" at him, then, raising his voice:

"Yeah, might as well. If they've all buggered off, we can help ourselves, after all!"

He'll inspect the platform and ropes for safety/stability Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (17) + 14 = 31, then, if he doesn't find anything wrong with them, descend carefully to the village below.

Khaz growls from within her veil, but follows Sekathral down to the village, using her slippers as necessary.

Sekathral's about to clear the lift for use when he suddenly notices that several of the vines seem to have been cut partway through. He fears if anyone bigger than Tavey or Urol step aboard, the whole thing is likely to crash to the ground!

"Hold on - some sod's sliced 'em through! Mates,"

He turns to address the whole party,

"How much rope do we have? Might be able to fix it, or we can just shimmy down the cliff with a couple of lines made fast"

"I have some rope." Khazmia hands over her 50 feet of hemp rope. I don't think we've cut it anywhere, but I could be mistaken.

"Silvio has this exquisite silk rope", Silvio says and proudly produces 50' of silk rope.

Khazmia eyes Silvio's rope with a glare and a "*Harrumph!*". Even his rope is prettier than mine.

Kyson looks over the cliff then to his companions.

"I might be able to carry some of you down. Let's let Silvio secure the area before I do that, though," Kyson says eying the rope wearily.

Kyson repeats his casting of Air Walk (80 min.), walking off the edge of the cliff and down closer (20' up) to take a looksee around while Silvio ropes his way.

1d20 + 13 ⇒ (16) + 13 = 29 Perception

If the area is clear, Kyson will cast Ant Haul, and use his enhanced carrying capacity to help those that need help getting down.

With Kyson's aid, you're able to get down to the lower level, finding the huts seemingly abandoned for at least a month, if not longer. Looking around, you can see various household goods and tools in the small settlement.

"At least a month... What happened to these people?" the old ranger ponders aloud as he looks around.

Perception +4 vs animals, +2 vs humans: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (1) + 15 = 16
Survival +4 vs animals, +2 vs humans: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (4) + 16 = 20

You don't find anything that seems suspicious, such as signs of violence. If you had to guess, the settlement just proved to be untenable.

Zstelian begins gathering what food and water looks safe to eat/drink while scanning for magical auras.

Detect Magic

You find two clay containers that radiate magic; you think one is War Paint of the Terrible Visage while the other is Beast-bond Brand.

You also find a dagger that radiates magic.

Spellcraft with Adaptation: 10 + 13 = 23

It's a +1 animal bane dagger.

Impressed by the find, Zstelian packs up the jars and sees which of the sheathes he has will fit the dagger. "The enchantment on this blade is powerful. It'll come in handy if we run into more of those beasts."

Kyson casts Detect Magic and aids in the looting search.

1d20 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 19 Perception

You don't find anything else.

Sekathral, helping search for food and drink, looks mildly annoyed at not having found anything:

"Nothing but ***king crabmeat for days. Crabmeat and ***king ship's biscuit. Balls. Come on - let's get going."

Kyson looks at Sekathral and tries to resist getting angry.

"I told you already that I couldn't ask Sarenrae for food because I was trying to fix Khaz's face! I'm trying the best I can. I can make food today! You know I can."

Kyson stomps away from Sekathral.

That does it! I'm asking Sarenrae for nothing but vegetables next time. He'll learn to be nice or he'll eat brussel sprouts and celery.

Finding the village mostly deserted, you head back to the path and -- despite the incongruity of Kyson carrying a panicked Thunderstrike through the air -- make it up to the continuing path.

Moving on, you hope to make a few more miles before the sun finally sets. You're making good time when suddenly a pile of rocks come tumbling down the cliffside! 10 hp; DC 12 Reflex save to negate

Cries of pain quickly fill the path as it catches four of the colonists, including Tavey, one of them getting hit right in the head and knocked unconscious!

Stunned silence then quickly gives way to more screams from the unhurt as you realize that you were hit not only with stones, but also a number of human skulls mixed in!

1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13 Reflex

"Awh...no one asked for a skull ambush, right? Ah..." Kyson says, helping to dig himself and others out.

"Tavey, you okay there, little buddy?"

Are you there, Sarenrae, it's me, Kyson. Skull avalanche, would you believe it? Anyway, sorry to bother, but I need you.

4d6 ⇒ (2, 1, 1, 2) = 6 healing (1/5)

Seeing the weak output, he sighs.

I guess you're busy elsewhere, huh, Sarenrae?

reflex: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

Khazmia dodges the rocks instinctively, but is mortified as she realizes that only lets them hit someone else. She eyes one of the skulls warily, "I probably should've just let that hit me. Sorry, Tavey."

Reflex: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11

"What the..." Zstelian mutters as he tries to avoid the debris. "Someone's got to be up there!"

Reflex: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (4) + 14 = 18

Sekathral, having easily avoided the cascade of rocks and bones, glares upwards, heeding Zstelian's words.

Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (18) + 14 = 32

"Right, mate. If they're bandits, though, they're ***king s**t bandits. My frigging granny could - I mean, my frigging granny did do a better job than whoever's gunning for us. And when I catch them..."

He tails off into a vaguely disturbing series of sadistic-sounding mutterings, punctuated by flourishes with his pistol and occasional rapier swishes.

"You really think someone is up there? This could have been an accident. I mean, someone is probably going to be pretty pissed that their skull pile fell. They probably put a lot of work into that."

You don't see anything up there, Sekathral.