Spooky's Wrath of the Righteous group 2 (Inactive)

Game Master Nidoran Duran

Aeryx grins at Aleister and says, "I was just about to suggest the same." He draws back his nocked arrow, sights along it, and lets fly at the spore cougher, keeping well back from it.

Shoot from about 40', in case it coughs spores!

Shortbow: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Shortbow damage: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Still not sure exactly able to see their current threat, Piety keeps slightly apace of Aeryx and readies herself for combat. The continual straining against the dark, the weight of her shield and stress of the continual combats are beginning to wear her thin. Piety mumbles a quiet "I'll take point", certain she'd heard Steave use the phrase earlier, but not exactly sure what it meant.

Piety readies an action to attack with her longsword, should anything charge at Aeryx after his arrow shot. She'll be next to him, or 5ft ahead if the cave is too narrow.

Leander sighs at all the commotion over a dead mushroom. He waits till the bird-man fired his arrow and then starts moving forward, "It's dead, now let's stop worrying and start moving. The roof collapsing above us is scarier than a dead toadstool." With that he moves closer, keeping to the shadows despite his own words.

Stealth: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24

The arrow digs itself right into the plant creature, who makes no sound or motion as it's attacked. As Leander passes through the cavern, he comes to see more of the human corpses lying on the floor, and realizes that they are dressed as crusaders of Iomedae, at least at a glance. They're both fairly well equipped, but curiously beside their corpses are not longswords, but glaives.

Steave cautiously approaches the site of the battle and repeats, "Menedemus, are those two humanoids dead, too? Careful everyone. Could be a trap." Steave readies his shield for an ambush.

Maybe it's just me reading Spooky's posts, but he NEVER wrote that the humanoids were dead. Shoot them too

Menedemus will nod at Steave and follow after him, focusing on each of the bodies to make sure that none of them were undead.
"I should have been more clear, sorry. I felt more than one aura of recently deceased, but it's strange. If they're all dead, something else must have killed them, right? But I didn't see a single living, or unliving, aura here...Beside ours, of course."
Having learnt from his past mistakes, Menedemus will move his gaze around, scanning also the ceiling, to catch if there where something else alive there.
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 2

He referred to them as corpses, that says dead to me.

"Something's not right here. They're dead, no worries about that. What bothers me is that they look off. They're crusaders, Iomedeans even, but with glaives and they don't loom like Shelynites to me." He dared not touch them but it was odd.

After Menedemus' comment Leander looked up at the ceiling above the corpses. Maybe the ground collapsed under them as well.

That's because Menedemus rolled terribly on his Perception, so I noted him only making out the muddled auras of recent death rather than actually identifying what it was.

There aren't any cave-ins or rubble this far into the cave. Lots of blood though; it's likely the two humans perished while killing the plant creature, who let out one last puff of spores before going down.

Steave cautiously approaches the site of the battle, "Menedemus and Leander, good job." Steave stows his shield and takes time to look over the corpses.

Perception take 20+8=28

Leander raised an eyebrow at Steave's comment, "You do realise we do not work for you, right? We aren't little kids either." He shook his head, deciding he would not say any more about it.

"Seems the shroom killed them while they killed it. I still find it odd though, crusaders with glaives. I've seen lances and spears but glaives are a new thing to me. There armor looks off for one of those low templars." He didn't dare pick one up though. Perhaps there were spores on the weapons and as fungus grew from spores it might be a bad idea.

The faintest of smiles crosses Aeryx's face as he notes the contrast between Leander's bold words about striding forward and his cautious movement through the shadows. But still, he steps in when there's a need, that's what matters.

As his companions ponder whether they're carrying the right weapons for their apparent religion - something he knows nothing of - Aeryx applies the skills he's picked up surviving on his own in the wild and studies the floor of the cavern for any indication of where the supposed Crusaders have come from, how long ago this fight occurred, and any other information he can glean about what happened here.

Survival to track: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Wow, Leander - our posts were 2 seconds apart!

Aeryx's grin grows wider as Leander reacts to Steave's comment, though his own thoughts on it are a bit mixed. Aeryx badly wants to be part of a close-knit group of comrades, but not sure he wants someone to tell him what to do or pat him on the head. And his desire for acceptance expresses itself as well, Didn't I do a fine job too? Though I suppose all I did was put an arrow into something that was already dead.

Even without rifling through the bodies' possessions, a quick examination of them draws attention to one of the victims' opened hands, a small symbol of a brass bull's head with tiny red gemstone eyes. The mongrelmen follow after you, then the injured walking slowly behind them. Horgus keeps a healthy, disgusted distance from them while Aravashniel tries to talk off the head of the injured Crell with ceaseless questions.

"It is fortunate that the spore cougher and the surface dwellers did our work for us," Lann says. "We've seen others with these uniforms and weapons in the tunnels before. They have taken up with a traitorous tribe and have begun probing out into the caves."

Steave smiles at Leander's comments and replies while continuing to search the bodies and area near them, "Of course, Leander. Some people enjoy more encouragement than others that their actions are appreciated."

Then to Lann, Steave replies, "Lann, while we continue toward your home, can you please tell us more about this traitorous tribe?"

As the group passes the apparent Iomedae worshipers, Piety begins a brief prayer of the fallen. "... and to the heart strike true, that even unto death your justice be se-..." her words cut short when she notices the Bull symbol. Something about it doesn't seem right, and she wracks her brain trying to make a link.

Arcana: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13+3 if demons or cults are involved

Unsettled, she is interested to hear Lann's answer about the traitorous tribe.

Wrong Knowledge, but as the cleric you'd know this one anyway. ALso, can you please format your "race" field to have something akin to everyone else's stats? It's for reference when I need to write up posts.

Piety recognizes the clasped bull symbol as being an Unholy Symbol of Baphomet, and a rather valuable one at that.

Menedemus won't pay much attention to Steave and Leander bickering, but in conjunction with Piety's prayer they will bring him back memories about his days with the Iomedaeans.
He thought that the day he left his village to follow the crusaders would have been the day he would have found his purpose, but alas. It wasn't that the ideals for which they stood for were wrong, but Menedemus felt they were too...narrow, maybe? In the past, he never managed to quite put his finger on the precise reason for why he left, but recently, since he started hearing the Voice, Menedemus felt that the Iomedaeas weren't trying hard enough. The point wasn't battling demons, it was vanquishing evil. No, vanquishing wasn't the correct term: it had to be erased. And not only the evil in demons, monsters and irredeemable individuals, but also the evil in good people. The evil in himself...

Piety's mention of the symbol of Baphomet will prevent Menedemus's musings to take a dark turn. "Baphomet? Do you mean they were...demon cultists? Here, in Kenabres?"
While being very worried about what they just discovered, Menedemus won't be able to hold back a brief, faint smile.
'Evil' cultists in the 'good' Kenabres? Just what I was thinking about..."

Anevia spits and mutters a curse, turning away as her mind goes off into thought for a moment. "Irabeth," is all she says, wistfully, holding even more concern now.

By contrast, Aravashnial seems to light up. "Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth!" he says excitedly, beginning to pace around a little too comfortably as his mind goes off into various directions. "There have been rumours that a cult of Baphomet has infiltrated various mercenary groups to try and corrupt them, but this! This is an entirely new level of deception. If there are worshippers of Bapohmet carrying themselves as Iomedaean crusaders... Perhaps we should bring the bodies with us. Or at least this symbol, should you wish to loot them. This would lend credence to what many of my colleagues have dismissed solely as a conspiracy theory."

"What are the chances these guys or others like them were responsible for what happened on the surface?" Aleister asks aloud.

Piety heeds Aravashnial suggestion, and pries the unholy symbol from the deadman's hand.

"Not only are they impersonating the Inheritor, but that they've managed to infiltrate Kenabres so thoroughly that they've found their way into this twisted underground few even know about. It's probably a fortunate thing this plant beast killed them before they led anyone else astray."

Unconsciously, Piety's free hand curls behind her to grip a handful of her tabard between stiff fingers. It provides a small comfort against memories that she would rather leave long buried. There are just so many that can be led astray in a city this size...

Aeryx begins to rummage through the belongings on the corpses, saying to his companions, "If they're demon cultists, I want to know what they're carrying besides glaives, any special equipment they might have. And it might serve us just as well, as long as it's not some fell demon-blood potion."

In addition to the glaives, you find that each of them has a Spiked Gauntlete and a Masterwork Chain Shirt. One body carries a Potion of Cure Light Wounds, while the other has a Scroll of Cause Fear. Between them is also 176 gp in assorted coinage. That's 29 each, should you take it.

"Piety, you should take the scroll. I don't think anyone else can use it. Leander, do you want to carry the healing potion just in case? How about this fine armor (Masterwork Chain Shirt) and spiked gauntlet, too? Any takers? If not, I'll dump it the backpack we found." Steave dumps the assorted coinage into the masterwork backpack and anything else no one wants to take. When he is ready to go, he nods to Aeryx.

"Just the scroll will be fine." Piety accepts the proffered item and follows Steave as they move onwards.

"I'd like to have one of those chain shirts," says Aeryx, "they look like they'd be a lot lighter than mine, and it's a little tricky to fly with all this metal on." He picks one up and admires its manufacture, then removes his old armor, puts it in the backpack, and slips the new shirt over his head.

How many corpses were there? Or more to the point, how many MW chain shirts?

Two corpses.

"Sure, I'll hang on to the bottle." With that he stowed them away.

"Don't have much use for the rest. The armor is too big." He then looked at the gauntlets, "Maybe one of those could fit me actually, let me try." With that he grabs one of the gauntlets, which just so happens to fit snugly on his oversized hands. He grins and moves on.

Menedemus shakes his head. "I don't need anything of these. But if you need help carrying something, just let me know."

Two corpses.

Right - I swear I read something about our noticing more bodies as we got closer, but I can't find it now. Clearly spent too long underground.

There's also the plant body, but that'd be it.

With no other input, guess we're moving on.

Anothe quarter hour's walk, and you come to a circular cavern, about twenty feet in diameter. Four mongrelmen stand guard before a large stone door. They greet Lann and the others warmly, but give you suspicious looks. They say nothing, assuming the nod Lann gives good enough a word to allow you in. Beyond it is the mongrelman city of Neatholm.

A small, dark lake ripples in the center of this two-hundred-foot-wide cavern, the walls and cieling aglow with thick sheeks of luminescent fungi. In the center of the lake, over two dozen low stone buildings cluster on a rocky one-hundred-foot-wide island. Lights glow in the windows of the buildings, giving the settlement an almost welcoming look. Rafts made of mismatched planks of timber bob along the length of a crooked piert at the lake's closest shore.

Though many people look with worry at the surface dwellers, Lann leads you swiftly to the largest building atop the island's low central peak. Inside sits Chief Sull, a bloated and unpleasant-looking mongrel with very rat-like features and a clouded white eye. The mongrelmen bow before their chieftain.

Aeryx remains quiet, preferring to let one of their more naturally charming speakers represent the party. He does, however, keep a careful eye on their surroundings for anything unusual - if he'd recognize it as such in an underground city of patched-together people on an island in a subterranean lake, lit only by mushrooms.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

Steave stows his shield and describes aloud what he sees to the blind elf when they approach the gates unless Anevia narrates for him. He too will survey his new surroundings.

When they approach the chief, he is respectfully silent and purposely does not stand in a position of leadership among his companions. He has no desire to provoke Mulberry. He waits for someone else to speak.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

Steave - when Aeryx waits for someone else to talk, he figures it'll be one of the folks with the high Diplomacy bonus...like Steave.

Seeing as everyone was waiting for someone else to talk, Menedemus will bow and greet the chieftain "Greetings, chief Sull. These are Lord Gwerm, Miss Anevia, Aravashniel, Steave, Aeryx, Leander, Aleister and Piety" he will say as he introduce the party, and barely remembering of himself "Oh, and I'm Menedemus. We came for the surface, and Dyra, Lann and Crell have been so kind to accompany us here: unfortunately, we bring bad news. Demons have managed to break the defenses of Kenabres and Terendelev has been slain: we think that cultist that hid in the city were responsible for this. We found the bodies of some of these cultists, follower of Baphomet it seems, in a nearby cave, and Crell mentioned they were probably colluding with a 'traitorous tribe'."

"We're sorry to bother you, you already helped us a lot by showing us the way trough the tunnels, but we're searching for a way back to the surface: there are certainly some survivors in Kenabres, and we have to get back to help them."

Steave - when Aeryx waits for someone else to talk, he figures it'll be one of the folks with the high Diplomacy bonus...like Steave.

Yes, well, I'm just role-playing Steave's reaction to Mulberry's comments. Captain America lets Ironman think he's the leader of the Avengers, as long as they're going in the right direction. Cheers!

The chieftain listens to Menedemus patiently, nodding and letting it all soak in, before letting out a curse. Lann then adds the details of Crell's entrapment and your help in saving him. "I was afraid something happened when I felt the world rattle." Much like Lann, he speaks with a thick and impossible to place accent. "My people and I may be outcasts and freaks in the eyes of uplanders, but our ancestors helped to drive back the demons in the First Crusade, before coming here to live with the taint of the Worldwound's dark energies. If the demons yet again threaten Kenabres, then I have little conflict as to what the right course of action will be. Return to the surface and report to the Crusaders that should they have us, we will aid in defending the city, as our ancestors did.

"The nearest route to the surface lies south, but the land is held by traitors, who have consorted with the uplanders you have apparently already encountered. If you will please do my people a favour and slay the traits as you return to the surface, I shall give you aid. Though we may seem odd to you, our people have grown functioning villages here, and we've brought with us knowledge and magic. I can spare you potions to help you on your way. Soliders I alas cannot spare; we must fan out deeper into the tunnels and gather the other tribes to stand with the Crusaders. You may rest in Neatholm as long as you wish, and trade with our merchants should you have the coin to.

"There is but one more question I have. A personal one. As I understand it you came from the same direction that my son fled in. Did you perhaps come across him? Or a corpse of my kind, or, gods, even an abandoned campsite? I shan't bore you with the details, but I have not seen my son in a good few years, and fear he met a terrible fate when he left."

Steave fought in the First Crusade if it helps to place the accent.

Steave shrugs out of the masterwork backpack and sets it in front of the chief. He opens it and finds the box and brooch, "We didn't find a body, but we found this backpack. Does it look familar to you? Or this copper brooch or iron box?" Steave offers the chief the iron strong box with a potion of Cure Light Wounds and a potion of Lesser Restoration and the copper brooch depicting a bad perched on a mushroom, the bat's eyes both tiny amethysts.

It doesn't; this is one developped from generations of insulation and various deformities effecting pronunciation.

As Steave shows the brooch, his one good eye gets misty, and he nods. "He left after an argument. I tried to stop him, but..." He drifts off in thought for a moment. "May I have it, please? It is all I have left of my son."

"Of course," Steave replies handing the chief the brooch. "We found no body, so there is always hope that he will return. Please take all the rest." Steave kneels down and starts shifting material from this backpack into his original one, in order to give the chief everything that they found.

He shakes his head. "No. I don't recognize much of this, and I don't have to. This brooch is all I need of my son; the rest of it you can do with as you wish." Taking his son's brooch, he retreats into the curtains behind him for a moment, before returning with a small chest and a weapon case. "Here. These potions shall aid you." He hands to you nine potions of Cure Light Wounds, and five Potions of Lesser Restoration. "As well as this. For giving me closure with my son, I believe you may be able to do more with this than I." He hands over his prized weapon, a +1 Morningstar. "Just promise that the head of at least one traitor's skull will be split open with this on your way to the surface."

Aeryx listens quietly as the mongrelman chieftain speaks of his son. These people are even stranger in appearance than I am, and even less welcome in the society aboveground. But the bonds of affection between them are strong and real.

He steps forward and says, "I'm sorry for your loss, Chief Sull. If your son can be found, we will find him. I can tell you that when I searched his campsite, it had been used not long before, though I couldn't say exactly when." He chooses to leave out the details of the giant cockroaches and maggots they fought not far from the abandoned camp.

Aleister takes in the sight of the under city and it's people with fascination. Astounding.

"Thank you for your aid. We'll do everything we can for your people and our city above." Aleister promises the leader.

"Thank you," Steave replies while repacking the son's backpack. "Your support is overwhelming."

Everyone please take one potion of Lesser Restoration and Cure Light Wounds each. Aeryx, Aleister, and Menedemus, please take a second potion of Cure Light Wounds. Piety can self-heal until we get more potions. Leander and Steave already have potions from before, so everyone has two potions of CLW except Piety who has one.

Who wants the +1 morningstar? No one uses the morningstar, so it'd be just in case something has DR/magic

I'll happily take the morningstar, if there are no objections. It's on my weapon list and is strictly better than my longsword at the moment.

Touched by the chieftain's loss, Piety accepts the offered heirloom. "I can't speak for my friends, but I'll be certain to stamp out anyone we cross who is consorting with demon cultists." She seems to stop short as if struck by indecision. "May I ask though, what do you think caused these tribes to become traitorous in the first place? Your community here seems so close."

I know Iomedae call me to pursue justice and attack all that is evil... but when did I become so cold? Damn it all... this underground labyrinth is getting to me more than I thought. Piety's shakes her head bitterly to herself when she is done talking to the chief.

Leander made a small bow before the chieftain, making sure the man saw that it weren't only his people that carried the weight of the World Wound's curse. "We will remove this thorn from your side. I for one just hope there is enough Kenabres left to defend."

With the collapse, the Storm King and the traitors he feared that the place would be in very, very bad shape.

"I assume they were promised power, or riches. I can't say for certain, because the mindset of a traitor is impossible for me to understand, but I can't imagine it was by noble intent. Other tribes are not as close-knit as Neatholm seems, however."

Guess who just finished the first leg of the adventure and ascended to second level.

Guess who just finished the first leg of the adventure and ascended to second level.

Horgus?

"I'm sorry for your loss Chief. But I swear on my life, I will do anything in my power to stop any further casualties, both here and on the surface" Menedemus will say resolutely. For a second, he will see a crimson feather float in front of him, only to disappear as soon as he blinked. Glancing at everyone else in the room, he will notice that he was the only one to see the feather.
What was that?

Sorry, Menedemus, must have been one of my feathers. Proper grooming is tough down here in the tunnels.

And for some strange reason, the AP designers never remember to include "Grooming Kits" on the corpses of underground cultists. A clear oversight on their part, methinks.