Vinsomner |
Botting players. Paizo crashed while posting and changed rolls, so I rolled in discord.
Kyarla
Growled in frustration, the damn lich freezing a member of your party and a refugee was already complicating matters. Wanting to tear the undead beast to shred you quickly charge the refugee, attempting to grab them and throw them back a ways so they weren’t so close to the Lich. She’d quickly grab the refugee, which was a bit more squirmy then she was expecting. Putting her weight into her right leg, she’d pivot and use her running momentum and transfer it to a body throw, heaving the poor enthralled refugee away from the lich.
Paizo crashed so I rolled in Discord.
Grapple: 19 = 19
Throw: 24 = 24
The refugee is thrown back an impressive 20 feet!
Taalik
Seeing the Lich sweep down toward Inja and paralyse her provoked you and your companion to quickly move into attack, helping protect Kyarla’s back as she moved to take handle on the refugee. Some instinct told him a club would be a better weapon for this fight as he quickly switched to a club with both hands and moved to attack in a leaping charge over the shallow waters. His companion circled around to try and engage the Lich with a flank, attempting to trip the Lich.
Acrobatics: 17 = 17
Club Attack: 22 = 22
Club Dmg: 8 = 8
Wolf attack: 25 = 25
Bite: 7 = 7
Trip: 18 = 18
Lich Action
The Lich was about to quickly turn to the Refugee but seemed to become enraged by it being thrown away by the Gnoll. Howling he’d dive for the Gnoll, but only to feel a club smashed into him, feeling the weight of another lesser species interfere, he swung around, only to feel the wolf try to drag him down. Kicking the wolf away he moved to attack Taalik, his hand reaching out as he growled through the positive channel that exploded through the area, feeling it burn his flesh. The channel caused him to miss his target, the Canidea warrior ducking effortless and leaving the Lich completely exposed. In an effort to bring control back, he brought the black etheral blade to bare against the wolf creature. The blade would slash across the chest of the canidea, necrotic magic seeming into a wound that immediately began to fester and bubble with puss.
Channel Resit: 35 = 35
Touch Attack: 6 = 6
Black Sword: 20 = 20
Black Sword DMG: 9 = 9
Necrotic DMG: 15 = 15
Taalik suffers a total of 24 damage[/dice]
[ooc]Lich is exposed for 1 turn. -4 AC
Octavian Lucarin |
Seeing the lich stagger under the flury of attacks and become more enraged with every strike, Octavian knew now as the time to strike. He could not throw out another fireball with everyone surrounding the creature but luckily that was not the only spell in his repertoire. Harsh words spat from his mouth as he held his staff up and sighted down it like an arrow. White energy swirled around the staff before shooting forward in a thin ray of heat.
Ranged Touch1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Mythic Scorching Ray, ignores fire resistance and immunity
6d6 ⇒ (1, 5, 4, 6, 4, 5) = 25
Arion, the Celestial Summoner |
As the lich was made vulnerable, Arion lowered her hand slightly. It looked like they had its murder well in hand, and there was no point in wasting her energy here when it might be needed for other things. Instead, she focused on moving towards the other refugees and making sure nobody else was able to get too close to the enemy.
Pazeek Splitbeak |
Sharpfeather is a making a fly-by attack, moving 11 squares diagonally up-right as the first part of his move action, then a standard action to attack the lich with his bite attack (note that this attack does bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage and is not reduced by DR). The attack gets a flank bonus from the ally opposite as well. This is followed by a wingover into the second part of his move action, which is to move five squares diagonally up-left.
Bite Attack: 1d20 + 18 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 18 + 2 = 27
Bite Damage: 1d8 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16
With an attention-grabbing shriek, an armored hippogriff announces it's arrival at the oasis, blasting across the sun-warmed ground on outstretched wings in a dangerously low line straight for the embattled lich. What little can be seen of the hybrid beast's hide through its protective wear reveals a bluish-gray coloration, while the visible feathers range from a smokey gray to a dust-stained white. Almost faster than the eye can track, the flying beast is at the tangle of desperately struggling forms attempting to bring the lich low, and another shriek sounds out across the campsite before the hippogriff--it wings flapping hard to keep it aloft--slams its beak into the distracted lich's body. Pulling its beak free of the undead form, the hippogriff snaps threateningly at the lich's face before turning sharply in mid-air and winging away over the churning pond.
Craning its head back to observe the lich, the hippogriff's thoughts are tightly focused on its target, and--were anyone able to discern the contents of its suprisingly able mind--unusually coherent for what most would see only as an animal. "Kill bad-meat-dead-thing! Never serve again, NEVER!
Qahnaarin |
Qahnaarin continues to lead the body of refugees further from the oasis. "...and that is why the Guild of Knot-Tiers and the Sartorial Union continue to have animosity to this day. This struggle and ensuing chaos paved the way for the rise of the Haberdasher Hegemony, which goes without saying was a dark day for the garment industry. Their insistence on... "
Kyarla |
It wasn't clear that the round had turned and we got another action. I was waiting for an indication that we were up again.
Kyarla moves to the undead in a blur, tearing at it in a bestial fury. Stopping the others was only delaying what needed to be done.
Fleet charge, then full attack with rage and power attack
claw attack, fleet charge, rage, PA: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
damage: 1d6 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16 penetrates all DR
claw attack, rage, PA, BS: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21
damage: 1d6 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14
claw attack, rage, PA, BS: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27
damage: 1d6 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18
bite attack, rage, PA, BS: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24
damage: 1d6 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16
Breewyn |
Bree watches the Lich creature swing wildly at Taalik and she calls upon her divine gift again. This time her goal isn't to harm, but to see if she can aid her allies. She chanted in her melodic tones as she drew upon her power.
Channel energy heal for Channel: 3d6 + 19 ⇒ (5, 5, 1) + 19 = 30 on everyone within 30' of me. Man a 1 every time >.< 6/8 channels remain.
She unleashes a wave of positive energy, radiating out and washing over all of her companions. It always seemed like her channel was far more effective when she used to to heal rather than harm. Satisfied with the results of her ability, she called out and hoped to rally her companions on.
Vinsomner |
And with that Kyarla utterly destroys the lich with all those attacks that bypass his DR. Also you just topped one of the legendary heavy hitters of the campaign.
So you just took the crown!
With the renewed assault from the party, the Lich was downed in a shower of rightful pain. Unable to dodge the ray from the Illidary, being swooped by the griffon who appeared from no where, and then Kyarla's final assault whic tore the lich limb from limb by grabbing the arm with the etheral sword and placing her other to his chest she yanked with her full might, ripping it from its socket. Then going straight for the throat she bit down and yanked her head as her claws sunk into his chest cavity and with her bestial strength, ripping his head from his shoulders.
His body dissipated in a agonized screech before exploding upon himself into a pile of ash and sand. Suddenly the oasis around you shriveled up, the trees wilting and dying, the grass becoming dust and the water evaporating to nothingness. A small crystal orb remained at the very bottom of the lake. It cracked and crumbled. The regeneration of the lich was halted and the failed attempted didn't make his phylactery suitable for his death.
Nothing but silence remained, but a soft gust of wind, the battle was over and those enthralled by the Lich collapsed. The site of the oasis vanishing into its death only dealt a severe blow to the morale of the refugees but it was recovered quickly with several of them moving about the crowds speaking words of reminder about the magic casters ability to create water from thin air.
Pazeek Splitbeak |
Pazeek bears witness to the finale of the oasis battle, though he arrives too late to lend any aid of his own. Indeed, as he flutters to an exhausted landing in the sand-filled basin that once held water, he can do little more than slowly fan himself with his aching wings. He's not accustomed to flying like that, and it definitely shows. Moments after he lands, Sharpfeather wings in to land at the tengu's side, the hippogriff's bearing clearly demonstrating its pleasure at the destruction of the hated undead abomination. Pazeek clucks in amusement and wipes a bit of lich dust from the hybrid's beak, then nods approvingly. "Well done that, Sharpfeather, very well done indeed. Not sure what that thing was, but with the way this oasis up and turned to dust when it fell, I'm sure it wasn't anything wholesome for the likes of us."
Turning his glitterjng eyes to the shore, he sighs wearily and pumps his wings again to get lift, then flaps laboriously over to the former shore with a soft warble. Giving his wings a final stretch, the tengu then folds them against his back before looking around with an expression that, even on his avian features, clearly shows his interest and curiousity. "Not a lot of familiar faces here," he notes aloud to nobody in particular as he examines some of the other participants of the recent battle. There are two that he does recognize, however, and he gives Octavian a wave before practically skipping over to Breewyn with a warbling laugh as he sees her expression upon recognixing him in turn. "But look here! Who do I see before me, but my favorite healer. Oh, dear Breewyn, I've so missed your exquisite attentions upon my body!" The exuberant tengu makes no attempt at all to avoid drawing attention as he approaches Breewyn, and it isn't hard to see that he'd be grinning if a beak were capable of such an act.
Breewyn |
Bree rushes over to Inja and checks on her, since she appeared to have fallen to the Lich.
Heal check: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (12) + 19 = 31
She lets out a sigh of relief. "She's still alive, thankfully. Though I believe she is unable to move, somebody help me move her."
She looks around at those nearby and her eyes fall on a strangely familiar creature. "Sh-sharpbeak?! B-but how?! Don't tell me..." She watches as the Hippogriff bounds over to a familiar avian creature. She got up and ran over to him. She then tackled him. "Pazeek! You good-for-nothing, bird-brained, son-of-a-" She would berate him, tears welling up in her eyes as she did. "Where did you run off to?!" She finally relented, sliding off of him, lip still trembling as she wipe her arm across her eyes. They were still kind of puffy and red from her emotional outburst.
Octavian Lucarin |
Since combat is over going to gather both dust and crystal shards.
Octavian waves at Pazeek as the tengu lands but the wizard is obviously focused on something else as he dismounts Acteon and runs over to the wagons. He pulls several small leather bags as well as a hundred feet of rope before heading over to the remains of the lich, pushing his way through the fighters gently. He kneels by the pile of dust and very carefully begins to gather what he could in a leather bag. "If everyone could please step back." he says tersely.
Once he had gathered as much lich dust as he could he sealed those bags and left them on the ground before moving over to the oasis. Eyeing the slope with a critical eye he tied one of the rope around his waist tightly and stepped over to the heavily muscled gnoll. Looking the powerful creature in the eye the Illidari nodded respectfully and said "That was magnificently done. In the future, if you would permit me, I would like to make an item that will empower the sharpness and lethality of your claws. In the meantime however would you please hold this end of the rope so I can get down into the bottom of the pit and retrieve the shards of the orb? They would be very useful to me."
Jasmine Almandine |
Wearily, Jasmine treads down what feels like the hundredth sand dune as she finally catches up to the refugee column. The lack of an oasis had ruined the landmark she had been aiming for, but the crowd of people were a dead give away. The effects of combat were clear in the area, and Jasmine felt the air being terse.
Slipping through the crowd, the inquisitor makes a beeline for her familiar faces that she had fought an ambush with, heading towards the female gnome standing next to a bird like creature, as she looks for Octavian.
Arion, the Celestial Summoner |
Arion was quite willing to allow Octavian to do the work of gathering things - though if she'd stopped to think about it, she probably would have gone to help. She was just so used to other people doing things that it hadn't crossed her mind that she could help more in certain ways. Instead, she bent down and began focusing on summoning Ylva back. By now, her Eidolon ought to be in her right mind, so it was time for her to return.
Kyarla |
Actually, only the first attack penetrates all DR. It's part of the mythic.
Tsakua Chain-Breaker |
Tsakua trudges after Jasmine and Maqli, falling into autopilot as he lifts his tired feet over the sand. Lifting his eyes, he recognizes the familiar signs of battle, and concern wells within him. Tsakua's eyes wander over the members of the caravan, seeking out familiar faces. He saw some that looked vaguely familiar, some that he didn't recognize, some that he probably should have known.
After a few minutes, Tsakua realizes that his feet have gone on autopilot and he's alone in a crowd of strange faces. Most of the caravan members were giving the large half-orc a wide berth, the beard and long hair he'd grown giving him a wilder, more ferocious look.
Suddenly, Tsakua's ears perk up as he hears familiar voices talking. Turning, he recognizes Pazeek and Bree talking to Jasmine. Letting out a loud laugh, Tsakua charges forward to grab up Bree and Pazeek in a huge bear hug.
"Bree, Pazeek, yer alive!" he yells, attempting them to wrap them up in a bear hug.
Pazeek Splitbeak |
Squawking in shock as the slight form takes him down unexpectedly, Pazeek needs a moment to get his bearings back. When he does, he warbles happily and hugs Breewyn before explaining his absence. "Now don't be blaming me for that," he exclaims. "There was something that I had to do, and one of the conditions was that I do it alone. Sharpfeather's return to life, and in better form than ever before, was what I won for my efforts." Sitting up, the tengu scratches his beak with an embarassed chirp. "Got back to where the rest of you lot were supposed be, and found nothing. Not even tracks. Only reason I knew you were all still around was because the Mad King's soldiers were still sniffing around." Shrugging, he rises--helping the gnome up in process--and continues. "So they followed you, as best they could and using some means I never could discover, and I followed them with Sharpfeather. And when we all hit this desert, I slipped into one of their supply dumps, grabbed a wagon and stuffed it with whatever was fastest to load, and parted ways."
Tone turning mischievous, Pazeek gives Breewyn a wink and showy ruffle of his wings. "And I'm thrilled beyond all description to know that my return rouses such passion from you. I had feared that some other might have taken my place in your affections, but I see that I worried over nothing." With a burbling laugh, he hugs her again before stepping back and pointing out into the desert from which he came. "I'd love to stay here and see just how passionate my return has made you, but I left a wagon back out there a ways, and I rather want it, as well as the cargo. Seeing as I did make the effort to steal much of it to begin with, you understand. So I'm going to round up Sharpfeather," he adds with a pointed glance at the hippogriff, who is now preening and posing before any camp inhabitants whom he can coax into admiring him. "And go retrieve my hard-earned property before someone or something steals it in turn."
His departure is abruptly halted by a yell in a familiar voice, accompanied by a bone-cracking hug that has the slight avian going limp in a desperate attempt to avoid ruinous internal damage. Dimly recognizing the owner of the deathgrip on his body through fading eyesight, he croaks out a faint greeting. Tsa... kua... Hi... Need... Air..."
Qahnaarin |
Qahnaarin ends his presentation with a small bow, and escorts the refugees back to the caravan. He is happy to see that all traces of the lich have been eliminated. "Well, bless my soul! Congratulations to the valiant warriors. Huzzah! May I ask, were we able to keep those last two refugees safe? I was able to sway 46 of 48 to follow, but I am afraid I am but a simple tailor and could not convince all of them."
Jasmine Almandine |
Jasmine raises an eyebrow at the crash tackle in front of her. At first, she thought the half Orc was initiating a grapple attempt before she realised that it was merely a rather extreme hug. Seeing both parties otherwise engaged she turns to Bree, noticing her puffy eyes. "Why so sad Little One, you managed to destroy an entire oasis in my absence. Most impressive for someone that considers themselves blessed in the healing arts".
Breewyn |
She turns to Jasmine and rubs her eyes again, sniffling. "It w-wasn't me who did it, it was a l-lich creature or some other. Everyone f-fought hard to defeat it and th-then the oasis d-disappeared." She stammered with a quivering lip, and then pointed at the poor feathered humanoid getting squashed by Tsakua. "P- Pazeek's back! I thought- I thought he left and somehow he got Sharpfeather back too! Sharpfeather had died long ago." She slowly stumbled over and buries her face against Jasmine, still sobbing a little and hugging her tightly. She was emotional for quite some time before she finally managed to settle down to occasionally hiccups, her eyes even redder than before.
Jasmine Almandine |
Jasmine keeps her amused smile on her face as she keeps the tearful gnome at arms length when she tries to hug the Inquisitor close. Perhaps it wasn't that most sympathetic gesture, but Jasmine didn't really like the idea of getting her outfit saturated in tears at the moment.
"Well, its nice that this Pazeek character is back" she remarks in a soothing voice, patting the gnome of the back lightly. "That said, lets not fall to pieces shall we, I got back from my little trip fine and I don't need anyone getting hysterical over me."
Inja |
Frustration welled in Inja as the battle raged around her and she still could not move, despite mighty straining. She needn't be overly concerned, though, as magic, claw and fang made short work of the foul creature. The blue skinned one's command of fire magic was particularly impressive, the skinwalker thought.
As the fight comes to its conclusion, she can hear unfamiliar voices and sounds around her, but cannot turn to look. Yama comes to stand protectively near Inja, tracking the newcomers warily. Said newcomers can see a muscular, hairy woman, her face frozen in a rictus of rage, standing at the edge of the former lake, a lioness appearing to guard her.
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Tsakua Chain-Breaker |
Tsakua lets Pazeek go with a smack on the bird person's feathery back. "It's good t'see y'lad," Tsakua says, before turning to Bree. Scooping up the gnome, he gives her a tight hug before setting her back down. "It's good t'see y'too, Bree," he adds. "Clear yer eyes an' enjoy th'moment, it looks like y've had a great fight t'tell us about." Standing straight, the large half-orc looks around the caravan. Half to himself, he asks "Anyone know where a body c'n get a drink o' water?"
Breewyn |
Bree managed to finally settle down from her many emotional outbursts she found some refugees to help her carry Inja and lay her down. She then knelt beside her and placed her hands upon her while speaking softly. She focused on her divine spark and nurtured it into a powerful golden flame within her.
Cast Remove Paralysis on Inja to cure her.
"May you be cured of your malady, and walk once more with us." She felt her power radiate into Inja's being and cure the affliction that the Lich had wrought upon her. "Are you feeling better Inja?" She asked with the same gentle tone as always.
Once she made sure that Inja was ok, she made her rounds tending to any others that might need her aid.
Kyarla |
Kyarla looks proud as she watches the groups reunite. Undeath has been defeated and they would survive a little longer. She will definitely help Octavian to retrieve the orb. It may not be edible, but if it can be traded or used to make magic it would be worth it.
"Has anybody seen the camels?" she calls out. "We need to make sure they don't wander off."
Octavian Lucarin |
With the rope secure in the powerful warrior's hands Octavian slid down the edge of the dry oasis until he was at the bottom. He tested each step with his staff to make sure that there weren't any hidden pockets of quicksand at the bottom to suck him down. Once he reached the fragments of the crystal he would kneel down and pick up every piece he could find. He would stay down there for as long as it took him to find every piece in the sand and he even threw in some of the sand that looked like it contained tiny fragments that chipped off the bigger pieces. Once he was sure he had gathered everything in the bag he moved back to the incline and began to ascend. "I'm coming back up Kyarla!" he called up. Using his staff as an anchor, he began to slam the staff deep into the sand with every step, pulling himself up the slope step by step.
Once Octavian had climbed out of the pit he would actually smile at the gnoll. "I've just had a marvelous idea. How would you like to have your claws coated with adamantine and mithril?"
Arion, the Celestial Summoner |
As the others talked, Arion finished her summoning. Ylva, upon return, looked... a little stronger than before.
"Thaaaat was a little embarrassing, so I talked to a guy." the celestial spirit said, sniffing around the area. "So, what happened here, anyway?" she inquired, sounding genuinely curious. She blinked a few moments later as Ylva explained. "Lich? Eeew. Well, I would've liked to claw him up, but I'm not as tough here as I am back home..."
Pazeek Splitbeak |
When Tsakua releases him, the tengu barely keeps upright under the friendly thump to the back, and has a spend a bit getting his bearings after three friendly assaults in short succession. Once he can think clearly--and breathe--again, however, he decides to investigate the gnoll's query before retrieving his wagon. With some hard flapping, he launches high into the sky and begins to circle, searching out the direction in which aforementioned camels have gone. Locating the beasts to the southeast of the devastated oasis, he flaps off in pursuit at top speed, swiftly overtaking the loose groups that have formed during their escape. Landing before the first in a spray of sand, he begins to coo and cluck reassuringly.
Handle Animal Check #1: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Handle Animal Check #2: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Handle Animal Check #3: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Handle Animal Check #4: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Handle Animal Check #5: 1d20 + 5 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 5 + 3 = 12
Mythic Surge: 1d6 ⇒ 3
His efforts are mostly successful, and soon four pairs of camels have been induced to return to the camp. The last group proves difficult, with a stubborn bull leading them, and it it isn't until Pazeek taps into that wellspring of power deep within and lets just a bit flow free that the recalcitrant camels obey his commands. Pazeek takes to air again and wings along behind them, making sure that they don't get any ideas about striking out for freedom once more.
Jasmine Almandine |
Jasmine observes the birdlike creature fly off immediately after, before swiftly pulling her attention back to her immediate problem - finding Octavian. At long last, she spots the blue skinned creature being hauled up by Kyarla and moves over to talk, revealing the box she had liberated as she did so.
"Well, I'm sure you had your own adventures to tell us in your own time, but perhaps you would like to look at this for me. We found it in the ruins guarded by something difficult to perceive and...strange. As I took this box from the altar it was lying on, shadow tentacles chased us and we were most fortunate to get away. That said, I don't know what this box is, or what the symbol's mean, only that it predates my bow and is therefore several hundred years old. Does it mean anything to you?" she asks casually, handing the box over without much thought.
Kyarla |
She cocks her head warily at the wizard, "How would you do that?" The idea of ripping through anything intrigues her, but she is wary of some of the stories she's heard about magic.
Octavian Lucarin |
The wizard accepted the box from Jasmine with a frown and carefully turned it over in his hands. As soon as he saw the carvings on the box his eyes widened and he sat down on the sand to cradle it in his lap. He ran his hands over the surface, savoring the intimately familiar texture as unbidden tears appeared in his eyes. "So many years separated from my people, so long since i've looked upon the beauty of my people's art. Thank you Jasmine." he said.
Octavian slipped a plain dagger from his belt and nicked his thumb. Vibrant white fluid welled up from the cut before he placed his thumb on the box top. While pulling his finger across the lid and spreading his white blood on the surface he quietly chanted "Participes enim sanguis per utrumque, tibi revelare contentis in eodem."
Arion, the Celestial Summoner |
Arion watched the box with some curiosity. "Uh, if we need to get some answers, I have a few friends..." she noted. Communing could be a surprisingly effective way of getting guidance, even if her companions were often a bit vague on exactly who they were talking to. (Something about free will, apparently, and how mystery helped to allow choice in the mortal realms.)
Vinsomner |
The refugees were regathering themselves from the enthrallment, most of them were a bit disoriented, while most of the refugees took care of those in need, becoming more proactive in their own survival, though it seemed that the races were gathering together into their own groups. A refugee came forward to Bree, who mentioned water, ”The children need rest, this is very trying for them, and…” the stryx, bundled in white, looking towards the dead oasis frowned. ”We are concerned about the safety of our children. If we're not going to die to the humans swords, it seems we might die in the desert.” a few others who came with her nodded their agreement. ”What happened to the structure? Is there any shelter we can take?”
Most of the refugees were dispersing around the oasis, attempting to find something to salvage, while others went to the camels that Pazeek brought back and helped corral them and sooth them into being comfortable with the group. The ones who decided to help Pazeek were all experienced animal handlers, and Pazeek would see that they would be perfectly capable of handling the animals and putting them to good use.
Meanwhile while the refugees were taking in their options and trying to recover, the box Octavian held had a very old and familiar feeling in his hands. The metal reminded him of home and of his people. Just by touching the box he could tell that it belonged to his peoples. When running the blood across the lid, a soft flash of white light appeared around the seal. The lid slid slowly in his fingers. When removing the lid he would be greeted by a red velvet cloth that was hermetically sealed within the container. The cloth was obviously wrapped around something, when removing it and unfolding the cloth, would reveal something that was lost to his culture for thousands of years. A shard of the fallen star, the star of the Illidari people. Touching the piece of dull blue stone would suddenly cause it to flare quickly in response to the touch. Octavian could almost feel as if there was still life in the stone.
’Lost child of mine….’ came a thought echoing in his mind, ’Lost child of mine… let the stars guide you to me…’ The voice was almost melodic in tune. ’Lost child of mine… lost child of mine… look up to the stars and let them guide you.’
The sun was high at this point in time, the heat breathing down upon everyone. There was murmuring amongst the refugees as they were awaiting direction of where everyone would be marching next. Some had already taken upon themselves to begin taking this lull to rest for now. Ishak would reappear to the group from the throngs of refugees with all the kobold that were in the caravan. They were all armed as if they were going to march to war. He looked at the assembled group with a grim smile. Looking back to his kind for just one second he’d begin speaking. ”We, have decided that we will trail the caravan. There are concerns that were leaving obvious tracks, and we want to be able to warn you if anyone is pursuing us.” he gave everyone a knowing smile. ”If anyone is following, we will stop them. Keep pushing forward to your city Octavian, we kobold make good scouts, and will be quicker then most. We will work to cover your trail.”
Breewyn |
Bree will assist Inja, after she has recovered, in helping create water for the refugees. If we can get a large basin, two preferably, we can both create water for people to refill waterskins with simultaneously. Once everyone has had their waterskins refilled, we will fill any extras we have, as well as try to treat heat stroke and exposure any of the refugees might have gotten thus far. When she has a free moment to speak with a couple of the party members she will speak to them. "Do we need to try and set up makeshift shelter? Or is it better if we just keep moving?" She would chew her lip, lost in thought.
Inja |
Inja looks around thoughtfully. "Do we know where we are going, though? My take is - rest now, push forward when it is cooler. Burrow into the sand for shelter, if needed. Even dry and dessicated, those palm fronds can be used for shade."
She puts her own words into action as she starts working to fashion shelter from the baking rays of the sun, Yama assisting her as best as she can, running to and fro with branches in her mouth, like a dog.
Survival: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27
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Pazeek Splitbeak |
Camels returned, Pazeek changes course without touching down and heads out into the desert again, a sharp whistle bring Sharpfeather along. The duo soon return with the latter hitched to a small wagon and the former hauling four greatly stuffed sacks--each nearly his own size and considerably more than his weight, to judge by their strained dimensions--as though they were nothing. The wagon's bed is piled with baled hay and dubious-looking bricks of preserved meat, with a large barrel stuffed into one corner, and bits of tack and harness--among which is the armor the hippogriff recently wore--precariously resting atop everything else. "Well, it's not much," the tengu announces as he comes to a stop beside Breewyn and lets the sacks drop from his back to the sand. "But I've got a load of wandermeal biscuits here, and a bit of feed suited for animals in the wagon. Oh, and that barrel there? It's about half-full of water," he adds over his shoulder as he unhitches Sharpfeather a second time today. With his armor no longer hiding his form, the hybrid is revealed to be surprisingly muscular for his breed, and--to those familiar with his appearance--far more so than he was prior to his death.
Jasmine Almandine |
Jasmine didn't particularly hang around once Octavian had mentioned that the box was something relevant to his people's past. It wasn't as if the box wasn't important or interesting, but she thought he might want the privacy to look at it on his own.
Peeling away, the lithe inquisitor began to plan the rest of her day. She knew that eventually, the caravan would pass through the area that her bow was anxious about, but that would only happen in time - such things were a while away from the immediate future.
As she walked through the camp, she appraised several of the refugee's that she saw, noting how some of them looked beaten down. Jasmine didn't entirely understand it herself. Almost everyone here was retreating from the King. Revenge should be on everyone's mind, a guiding force, a drive, and yet she could only find a tiny percentage of actual Calistrian worshipers, although she noted that those who knew of Calistria were already fairly favorable to it.
Despite this, Jasmine didn't want to shove her own religion down everyone's throat. A Calistrian worshiper was not banned from ever leaving the religion, people would often come and go, periodically in pursuit of lust, trickery or revenge, and Calistria herself was fine with that. Therefore, worshipers were better welcome to join or approach of their own accord, as per the goddesses desires on free will.
Concluding that, for now, educating people on what Calistria actually was would be a beneficial way of spreading her religion, Jasmine gathered her 17 followers, and heading into a part of camp that gathered a fair amount of foot traffic, although she took care to avoid a gathering near any families. Jasmine didn't mind who worshiped, but she wasn't so irresponsible as to discuss the merits of revenge next to an impressional five year old. Once gathered, she begins.
"Allies, Acquaintances, worshipers and followers of Calistria, Lady of the Room and Unquenchable fire - Welcome. I thank each of you for spending a small time of your day here, supporting and reaffirming your faith. Today, I have gathered us here to discuss only one of Calistria's three dominant aspects, Revenge, Trickery and Lust. Today, we will carry out the Rite of Revenge, where we remind ourselves of our unwavering devotion into retaliation of past slights. For myself, I find joy in the retaliation against anyone who set themselves up as a slave owner of the unwilling, not just against those of my race, but all who were wrongfully enslaved. We remind ourselves that those who desire revenge against the King and his servants, his proxies will be met with divine retribution, for Calistria will always seek to grant her personal favor to her valued worshipers. Take for example, my own weapon, blessed by Calistria herself to provide personal guidance from the goddess herself into ensuring the realm is brought down!"
Jasmine pauses for a moment, before gesturing for the worshipers to form a small circle. "Each of you, one by one, step into the circle and reaffirm your desires of revenge, so that she can grant you favor in your activities. Once the Rite is Completed, we will break, and next time move onto discussing a Rite celebrating a different aspect of Calistria's domain. As always, if anyone has any questions about her teachings or her religion as a whole, I'm always available."
Rolled online under observation.
Rolled a 19 for Diplomacy
Rolled 24 for Profession
Possible extra modifiers that might be added to the above: +1 against any humanoids, and +1 towards anyone defined as attracted to me under the wording of the 'Charming' trait.
Qahnaarin |
Qahnaarin stares curiously as the box is opened. His eyes light up at the sight of the red velvet cloth. What a lovely kerchief that would make... He continues to stare as Octavian unwraps the blue stone.
Qahnaarin, however, cannot hear the voice in Octavian's mind. After a few moments of silence, the tailor clears his throat. "Master Octavian, do you know this stone? Do you know what we have found?"
Arion, the Celestial Summoner |
Arion nodded slightly at Inja. "I've been thinking myself that it might be better to just rest during the heat of the day, then push on as best we can when it's cooler. We have water thanks to magic, but we don't really have the food to fight off fatigue for everyone." Besides, Ylva could guide them just fine in the dark.
Jasmine's show, on the other hand... the summoner glanced over with interest, but didn't bother to participate. She had nothing in particular against Calistria, but the elven goddess wasn't the one who'd protected her home.
Tsakua Chain-Breaker |
Tsakua allowed himself to fade into the background. It was strange being among so many people again. For the past six months, it had been nothing but himself. There were occasional travelers he stumbled across, but unless they looked to be in need, he tended to shy away from them, preferring the safety that seclusion had brought. Now here he was, out in the desert, with hundreds of others. Nowhere to hide, and nothing to provide decent cover. Still, it probably didn't matter, as it was unlikely the king's soldiers would make it out here in their heavy armor.
Tsakua found a shady spot from which he could get an idea of what was going on. Octavian was in sight, and while Tsakua wasn't eager to greet the sorceror, he still recognized and respected the Ilidari for having the strength to lead the refugees this far.
Tsakua allowed himself to doze for a bit. There was some hubbub as the strange elf girl gathered some refugees for a ritual, and not much else going on. Then he saw Ishak and his fellow kobolds marching towards Octavian. Some sort of to-do about being ready if anything was following them. Tsakua didn't envy that job.
Tsakua let his mind wander again. The sun was warm, and the wagon wheel he was leaning against was pleasant enough. He was confident that whatever decision would be reached would be good enough, and that was all that mattered. If anyone were to ask, he'd rather march at night, when the sun was gone, but it wasn't his place to seek leadership in a group from which he'd been absent for so long.
As Tsakua's memories drifted, he noticed a child tossing a ball with his mother. He remembered an experience he had during his wandering. Tsakua thought back on how he'd gotten wind of a nearby human settlement, little more than a sawmill on a river, really. Embittered by the loss of his comrades and injured in the recent attack, he'd wandered through the brush till the mill came in sight. He sat in the bushes all night and through the morning, waiting to see who manned the mill. All he had seen was a lone human man.
Tsakua had been ready to strike, and at one point, the man had been within arm's reach of him. Just as Tsakua had been about to reach out and snap the man's neck, he'd heard a child's voice call out. A little girl and her mother came to the door of the mill, and the little girl had run, squealing with joy towards her father. The sight had been enough to dampen Tsakua's burning rage to a bittersweet sorrow. Some resentment had still existed, for Tsakua had wanted very much to share the hurt, but he couldn't. Something had triggered inside the large half-orc, and he had wandered away, leaving the mill in peace.
Some chatter snapped Tsakua back to attention. It sounded as though a decision on what to do next was about to be made, and Tsakua felt it best if he listened in on what they were to be called to do.
Taalik Amun |
The conflict over and the immediate threat put down, Taalik took time to thank his forefathers for their guidance in the battle. He then knelt with Katras, and poured a measure of water from his skin into the wolf's mouth. Others might consider precious resources given to an animal a mistake, but Katras was Taalik's bonded brethren, and also his only connection to the pack. He would share all that he had with him.
Seeing the more vocal members of the caravan gathering to speak, Taalik turned his attention and hastened toward them. Listening to the noble kobold offer to trail the caravan, Taalik nodded to the diminutive man respectfully. "It is a noble risk you take, separating from the caravan and guarding our rear. Among my people, the most skilled warriors take on this task on our migrations. May my ancestors watch over you and your kind, and may the blood of the dragon be ever strong in you."
As the debate continues as to their next move, Taalik listens carefully before offering his contribution. "The lady Inja speaks well. The oasis is gone, but it's remnants can offer us a measure of shelter from the midday sun. And a lack of activity in such heat is far safer than heavy movement during it. I know many of us are gifted with eyes that make nocturnal movement rather easy. Let us make what use we can of this place, and hope the night grants us safer passage."
Octavian Lucarin |
"Break out the tents!" Octavian said suddenly, his eyes locked on the stone in the chest. He could barely breathe as his fingers careessed something he never in his wildest imagination could have dreamed happening. He barely heard Qahnaarin's question and couldn't tear himself to look up at the Speaker. "It's...it's...something very important." he finished lamely. Words could not properly convey the feelings the Illidari was feeling as a hundred emotions danced over his face. Suddenly the image of a great hammer appeared unbidden in the wizards' head and he knew what to do with the meteorite. Why the fates had delivered this into his hands, he knew.
Suddenly aware that people were staring at him the wizard closed the box and pushed it into the bag hanging from his shoulder. It joustled with another box and Octavian frowned at the smaller item that had been sitting in his bag for quite some time. "I forgot about that. Let's see what I can do with this." he said. Placing the box in his lap he began to cast a spell before pausing and looking at the people around him. "I suggest backing up a bit. I am not sure what kind of defenses this has."
Once the people had put atleast ten feet between themselves and the Illidari he resumed his spellcasting and finished it with a solid knock on the lid with his knuckle.
Cast Knock 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (11) + 16 = 27
Ah bugger, last Mythic point for the day. I want that damn box open!
1d6 ⇒ 4
Pazeek Splitbeak |
Hearing Octavian's shouted order, Pazeek eyes the mage curiously for a moment before shrugging and breaking his own tent out of storage on the wagon beside him. He's sure there's a good reason that he'll find out in due time, and until then, relaxing is a good enough idea. Instead of setting it up normally, however, the large shelter is partially anchored to the wagon by the weight of its cargo and then spread in a broad canopy supported by well-placed tent poles. The result is a moderately-sized patch of shade that covers both the wagon's cargo and still provides a nice bit of protection from the sun while allowing a breeze from the three open sides. To judge by the practiced movements and speed with which this is accomplished, it's a task done many times by the slight, feathered humanoid.
Soon enough, Pazeek and Sharpfeather are lounging comfortably, the latter in a hollow dug out of the sand partially underneath the wagon, and the tengu makes it clear that anyone who can find space underneath the spread-out tent's material is welcome to do so.
Breewyn |
Bree watch Octavian curiously as he opened the box that Jasmine gave him. Seeing his reactions, deep down she knew that it was something really important. She smiled, but it slowly slipped away when he pulled another box from his bag. Thinking hard she could remember them having looted a small box before not too long after they had managed to free themselves. She heeded his warning and made sure to take many steps back, before remembering that she needed to dig out a small tent to try and put up for the night. She decided to busy herself with that rather than watch with dangerous curiosity what would happen with Octavian tampering with the small box. Taking her time, she looked for both an adequate tent as well as a good spot to place it.
Inja |
Startled by his shout, Inja watches the blue-skinned one carefully from a distance. This was his people's desert, and who knew what secrets lay buried in it... if their recent encounter was any indication, they should approach everything with extreme caution. Satisfied that no lich was going to spring from the box any time soon, she sets to the task of making camp. Not having a tent, she takes advantage of the feathered one's generous offer to shelter Yama from the scorching sun, while she herself hacks the dried trees to build some shelter for as many people as she can. It is slow going without proper tools, and she has to pause often to wipe off sweat and to replenish the water in her canteen. Perhaps drawn by the water, perhaps out of a desire to make themselves useful , a few refugees drift over and start helping, and Inja finds herself grinning as they slowly find a rhythm; little talk, only as needed to coordinate the work, but that feeling of togetherness is undeniably there.
Survival: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (9) + 11 = 20
-Posted with Wayfinder
Vinsomner |
The gathered calistrian worshipers listened. Most were quiet and did indeed seem somber as Jasmine rounded them up. Most of them came, not only because she was herself a worshipper but because she was one of the Proven. Most have taken their younglings away, just out of the privy of the group that was assembled as they had other things to do, such as set up camp at the behest of Octavian’s orders shortly before, which many were relieved to have received. The heat was daunting and the fact most were giving a much needed break from their legs.
The group with Jasmine listened on, while the events around unfolded. The group near Octavian gave him the room he recommended, most having gone on to setting up tents and getting others settled, the more scholarly eagerly watched. From the sight of the Proven in battle, it was stirring something inside the hearts of those who saw them taking action and were themselves frustrated with their own inadequacies. As the Illidari knocked the lid, a flash of brilliant light erupted from the seams of the box, throwing the lid open with such force it nearly tore the lid from its hinges. Within there was a gem, in shape of an egg and about the size of his clenched fist. It was nestled on red silk, and it shimmered brilliantly in the sun. If he were to touch it, it would be warm. There was a curious gasp and mumble amongst those who gathered to watch Octavian. If he paid any mind to them he would notice they all had curious look about them, in the fact they saw magic in a different lense then most around in the camp.
Ishak looked to Taalik while the camp began to bustle, a smile formed the kobolds lips, ”Noble, yes, needed, also yes. Keep strong new one, everyone has a long road ahead of us.” With that he would bid the others farewell for now and he and the rest of the kobolds, counting among the twenties, began to back track their path. Ishak had other things he needed to check on for the safety and well being of everyone, a kobolds duty in a sense.
Back at the group of the Calistrians, Jasmines speech was wrapping up. It would leave the group silent for a moment, each casting a glance to each other. They had moved to form the small circle as requested, though it was a moment before one stood forth, taking place in the center. A elf women, strong back, but her will was broken long ago, her eyes were almost dead, but a flicker of a spark could be seen in them, a fire being stoked.
”I want revenge upon the slavers who took my husband and child away, I want revenge for those who held the lashes to my back and the shackles to my wrists. I want revenge against those who tore my family apart.” Her voice was weak to begin with but slowly built in confidence. Though to a trained ear her voice was still quivering in the end. ”I want to do more than just watch but how?” She’d turn to Jasmine then, a frown to her lips, her hands to her side clenched into fists, ever so slightly shaking. ”I feel weak, compared to you, the Proven’s. How could we, or any of us find reaffirmation for our desires of revenge?”
Even Jasmines old friends, Cyithrel, Halamar, and Viessa looked upon her, wanting to know the answer to the question the women poised. Unlike Jasmine, they weren’t touched by the gods, they didn’t contain the powers to make a difference so visibly and vast. Most of the spirit of many of the refugees were beaten and tired. It was miracle most of them even pushed forward, only for this desperate hope of safety. Many of those refugees has a fire yet to be rekindled. And Jasmine could see among those, that a few of them could be worked into something much greater.
As to Pazeeks welcoming nature, he would be surprised to find several feathered friends take up his offer. Immediately one approached him, a raven black feathered female, tossed in a white wrap. ”Pazeek? Pazeek was it?” She’d ask curiously, her head tilting to the side every so slightly. She’d give a glance to the companion of his several times during her approach. Many of the other tengu’s and scattering of some refugees didn’t seem to mind the fact their was a lioness sitting under there as awell. A few other refugees could be seen helping Inja help fasten some shanties to help provide others with cover and shelter from the heat as well. Much more of the camp began to take more action now.
Pazeek Splitbeak |
Making a Survival check to help people deal with the intense heat and conditions out here, in the form of a +4 bonus to Fortitude checks to resist the effects of heat. The DC is for Pazeek is 15, and every point past that grants one additional person the same bonus.
Survival Check (Fortitude): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27
And 12 people--in addition to Pazeek himself--get a +4 bonus for the next 24 hours. I figure that'll be the folks packed under his tent-canopy
And for Sharpfeather as well.
Survival Check (Fortitude): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Hmmm, if Sharpfeather can provide that bonus to others as well, then 7 can share the cooler sand in his little pit beneath the wagon.
Pazeek is quick to help those accepting his offer of shelter, though he does make a sidetrip out onto the sand to offer the use of his multitool--currently configured as a sturdy hatchet--to the one who dropped off the rather impressive lioness. Giving the aforementioned feline a respectful berth, though she seems calm enough, he then sets about helping folks find what comfort they can by his wagon. Sharpfeather even offers some aid of his own, carefully digging out his nest-pit and then chirping invitingly once his efforts have revealed a broad patch of cooler sand--and some scurrying desert dwellers that the hippogriff is swift to snap up and consume as a light snack.
He is startled when he finds himself addressed by one of his own kind, with a few others accompanying her into the shade. For a moment, Pazeek considers her silently, then nods and replies in a tongue he hasn't had a chance to properly speak in a very long time indeed, occasionally gesturing to himself and other things as he fills the air with bird-speak.
"Aye, Pazeek is my name. With the ekename Splitbeak on account of this," he replies with a claw tapping against the scar marring his beak. Waving vaguely to the east, the tengu continues. "From the Bluefeather flock out of Freeport, if you care about that sort of thing." Cocking his head to the side with a curious warble, Pazeek then asks the obvious question while pointing a claw at the group of avians. "And who would you all be then? I didn't know there were any tengu in the group we pulled out that mining camp."
Jasmine Almandine |
Jasmine smiles gracefully at the elf women. Its no easy thing to stand up and offer personal experiences and opinions, to a gathering of individuals, and she respected the women for that.
"You are not weak." The Inquisitor answers after an appropriate pause. "NONE of you are weak. How do you think the Proven look compared with the might of the Mad King and his World Gem? Strong yes, but that strong? Do you think that such a thing would stop me on my quest for revenge? Do you think I would run away from my desire for revenge even if I wasn't Proven? No! I would still fight!"
Jasmine relents for a moment before lowering the volume of her voice. "You know what your slavers want? They want you battered, broken down, defeated, cowed into submission. That is how slaves act. That...is what I do not want to see from you or indeed anyone. Instead, you defy them, you stand up, you fight, you resist, in any small way that you can, you use what talents you have available to further your aim, and you trust in the favor of Calistria for she supports all with a desire for revenge, for weak or strong, she supports all."
Unwilling to start a massive sermon on the topic, Jasmine seeks to bring her point to a close. She bows quietly to the elf women as a form of respect. "The fact that you came here today, and asked how to avoid being a watcher, proves that you are reaffirming your desire for revenge, that you have found the strength within yourself to fight on in spite of suffering. That is...admirable." she finishes.
Diplomacy / Profession Courtesan: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32
+1 against any humanoids, and +1 towards anyone defined as attracted to me under the wording of the 'Charming' trait as applicable.