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Thirst - A Ravenloft PbP

Game Master Celestial Healer

Set in the land of Ravenloft, a band of intrepid heroes searches for a way home, but their fate may be inextricably tied to a vain, power-hungry madman. Uses the Pathfinder ruleset.


4,601 to 4,640 of 4,640 << first < prev | 83 | 84 | 85 | 86 | 87 | 88 | 89 | 90 | 91 | 92 | 93 | next > last >>

29/29HP , AC17

Know (nature): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Tybalt rises quietly and takes a step back from the dead body. He packs up his equipment in silence and then scans the horizon. Looking to the east and the wane sun; "I think I can guide us to the necropolis." he says in a hoarse low voice.

Standing up straight, he avoids looking at Leclerc prostrate form instead focussing on the terrain that they'll have to traverse. 'It'll be on high ground, dry ground. So we'll need to get through to the other side...' he thinks solemnly.


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

"Good Tybalt. You cannot do worse than that wretch. No swimming please." says the magus dryly.

Andrzej displays no emotion and continues to back up the new guide with his crossbow. He keeps it raised and pointed over the man's left shoulder covering that front quadrant and back to the side.


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

"By the gods," Leandro breathes, watching the horrid scene with the brain slug. He waits with Thorn at the ready while Tybalt retrieves his dessert bowl standard in the Bard's Kit and places the glave on the revealed beast, leaning until it is cut in half, then stomping the remains. "It is only acting according to its nature, but it shall take no other lives."

He follow the rest of the party, taking rear guard position with Thorn at the ready, carefully avoiding the water.


Full of unfounded confidence, Tybalt leads the way westward, in the general direction Leclerc had been taking you. Progress is perilous; while Leclerc had a knack for finding trails of relatively dry ground, you find many places where you have no choice but to trudge through the mud. Often what looks like dry ground gives way beneath your feet into a slurry of sodden grass, rotten reeds, and murky water. At one point, you reach what looks like a dead end - a dark pool surrounding you on three sides - but backtracking you are able to find a way around it.

The day draws on and you see no signs of your destination. You continue to spot the occasional item indicating that the native savages have been here, but nought else breaks the monotony of the oppressive air and drooping vegetation.

By the afternoon, you are weary and not too certain you are going the right way. As you take in your surroundings, you spot another of the natives. An emaciated man wearing a loincloth regards you with the same vacant gaze as the girl you saw the previous day. The stringy hair hanging down his back resembles the gray moss drooping from the tree branches all around you. He says nothing, but extends his arm, pointing a gnarled finger to the south.


29/29HP , AC17

The damp and dreary swamp surrounded by death does little for Tybalts spirits, in the gloom his eyes become sharp and more alert. After a day of guiding the group through the mud and murk the appearance of the lank fellow surprises Tybalt.

Taking a relaxed stance he says softly; "Over there? Your place? We visit?"


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

The magus lowers his crossbow and grins at the brevity of the conversation, all to himself. "Who needs words - that is the way. Do we rest for food and water or plough on?"


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

"The way to what?" the paladin adds warily, "In this place, it could be the way to the stewpot. Or worse."


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

"So we go in the opposite direction then?"


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

Leandro laughs, the sound out of place in the depths of the swamp, and flashes Andrzej a grin. "Whichever direction we go, we do it with eyes open, yes? And the way the elder points is as good as any, now that our guide is gone." He shrugs one shoulder. "What does everyone think?"


Male Human Cleric/5 {HP:42/42, AC 16 (11 without armor)}

"Leclerc did have some value, I guess," mutters Res as he struggles to unstick his boot from the suction of the mud. "I suggest we check every part of our bodies that comes in contact with the water each night in case one of those slugs tries to enter us."

He follows along behind Tybalt. He answers, Andrzej's question. "I do not think it is wise to travel at night, it is bad enough the hazards we find during the day when we can see, I'd hate to fall into a deeper pool of water because we didn't see it. Let's camp here and then head south as our erstwhile signpost indicates."


There are still roughly 2 hours of daylight.


Male Human Cleric/5 {HP:42/42, AC 16 (11 without armor)}

In that case, let's keep moving until it begins to get dark.


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

Andrzej resumes his position, crossbow at the ready and prepares for a sudden attack before nightfall.

If they should manage to make camp, then the magus spends a while at his magical studies, more to keep his mind elsewhere. He hums an old vistani tune as well for exactly the same reason.


The native does not move as you progress in the direction he indicates. He merely follows you with his eyes, his hollow stare regarding you carefully as you move away from him.

With a squawk, a large raven alights on the path ahead of you. Its black feathers bear a healthy sheen while Its glassy eyes project a canny intelligence. The bird hops about in front of you, then takes flight, proceeding some 20 feet ahead before it alights on a fallen log and looks back, to see if you are following.


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

"Friend of yours?" Leandro quietly asks the bard, pointing to Tybalt's owl companion, "You seem to know something about creatures of the feathered persuasion."


29/29HP , AC17

"I know somewhat of aspects of the avian persuasion. But I believe it wishes us to follow, which we probably should." He pauses with a grimace and a look to the clouds and darkening sky. "For aught we could learn of the swamp would certainly help with my navigation - that's another reason I was trying to help Leclerc."


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

"I'd rather be led by that bird."


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

"Yes, but the question is, who is sending it and why do they wish to lead us? I have become suspicious of those who offer help in this land," the paladin admits.


Male Human Cleric/5 {HP:42/42, AC 16 (11 without armor)}

"I agree Leandro," adds Res. "We must be wary of an ambush, but I'm I don't see any choice but to follow the guides our future opponent is providing us. I feel like the fly being led into the spider's lair. Let's keep going but keep our senses alert."

perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

"Indeed, Sir Res. It may be no friend, but an enemy of our enemy. Sometimes, that must suffice. For now." The paladin holds his glaive in an easy ready as they proceed.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 18


Knowledge (Local) DC 16:
Ravens in the lands of Ravenloft are sometimes considered a good omen. It is known that they will not consort with the powers of evil.

As you follow, the raven continues ahead of you, covering some distance and then waiting for you to approach before it moves off again. As the afternoon wears on, you begin to hear the sounds of drumming in the distance. The wild syncopated rhythms tap into a primordial energy that is not like anything you are used to. The music is rather remote right now, but it is roughly in the direction you are headed.


Male Human Cleric/5 {HP:42/42, AC 16 (11 without armor)}

knowledge (local): 1d1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

Res hears the sound of drumming as it breaks through the monotony of the swamp. "We are getting closer to something. But is it closer to our objective?"


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

"The only way to know is to get there. So let us go boldly forward and trust the gods to guide and guard us. Tybalt, do you prefer someone else take point now that we can hear something ahead?" Leandro scrutinizes the bard who is ahead picking their path.


29/29HP , AC17

"It's fine for me to stay here. Plus I look less dangerous than you fellows." He adds glancing at the heavy armament and armour of his companions. With a touch more caution and stealth he moves towards the source of the sound.


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

"Should one of us hide behind the rest. No. They would left alone like Leclerc to die in this swamp. Sometimes Tybalt a show of strength is a good thing. If that is a native drumming then we may seem as poor marshfolk with little skills in this. We even lost our guide. Not impressive. My hope is that they wish for our help in return for getting us to the necromancer."

Andrzej cares not for armour or weapons he trusts in the abilities of the others around him.


The sound of the drumming grows louder as you get nearer. You begin to hear distant voices mingling with the off-kilter, insistent rhythms of the mysterious natives.

The raven leads onward, but you find that the bird is not leading you directly to the source of the sound. Instead, you find yourselves led to the edge of a wide pond, surrounded by the drooping boughs of trees and thick tangles of mangrove.

In the center of the pond, a ramshackle structure has been built upon stilts, reachable by a single footbridge fashioned from bound reeds and supported by poles driven into the silt below the water. In the dimness of the twilight, you can make out strange fetishes hanging from the eaves of the shack, constructed of moss, feathers, and tiny animal bones. Some appear to be rough effigies of humanoid form, while others simply look like they were thrown together of found scraps. The flicker of a small flame can be seen through a tiny window, while a thin tendril of smoke arises from a crooked chimney. While the sounds of the primordial music play on behind you, the shack before you is quiet.

The raven alights upon the bridge, halfway to the shack, and looks back at you expectantly.


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

Andrzej crosses the bridge, under the circumstances there is little choice in this matter.


29/29HP , AC17

Sharing a look of nervousness with the rest of the party, he looks to the shack alone in the swamp. "To approach someone in their place of power is dangerous, more so when they are capable of surviving in this habitat. However may as well be bold..."

Tybalt strides out after Andrzej, keeping a bit behind him as they cross the bridge.


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

The magus pulls out a small piece of bread and crumbles it on a post near the raven. "Thank you, guide." Then he walks on to the other side of the bridge.


The rickety bridge sags and creaks beneath your feet as you cross to the strange shack. Feathers and bones decorate the poles supporting the bridge and the eaves of the building. Another of the strange shrunken heads hangs above the door.

As you near, the smell of incense and herbs hangs heavily in the humid air. In contrast to the sounds of revelry from deeper in the swamp, the shack is eerily quiet.

The front door, warped and faded by the humidity of the lagoon, hangs ajar from its hinges. Inside, an impossibly old man sits upon a stool by the fire. He wears garments of loosely draped fabric, and he is decorated with strange markings and piercings of wood and iron. A necklace of small bones hangs from his neck, ending in a cluster of worn feathers.

"You are here," he croaks with a crooked smile, his voice raspy and heavily accented.


Male Human Cleric/5 {HP:42/42, AC 16 (11 without armor)}

Before they depart, Res casts Protection from Evil on himself and then Protection from Evil, communal on the others. He follows the others across the bridge.

When the man addresses the group, Res answers, "Yes, your raven guide has proven most helpful. Have you been watching us for a long time?"

diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23


The old man smiles openly, a few straggly teeth all that remains in his mouth. "Only since ye entered the swamps. My eyes don' see beyond the edges."

"You mus' be Res. They call me Chickenbone. I don' remember now when tha' started..."

"You bring de evil wit' ye," here he is speaking to all of you, not just the cleric. "But evil already be here. An' sometime it take evil to fight da evil."


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

"Chickenbone, I am Andrzej and we would like to know why you have guided us here?" The vistani decides against leaning on the wall and waits for the man to mull over his answer.


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

Jaw muscles working, Leandro remains outside the doorway to the hut, listening to the proceedings within while keeping watch outside.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 19


Male Human Cleric/5 {HP:42/42, AC 16 (11 without armor)}

"Yes, I am Res. As Andrezj suggests, I gather you seek our help. What evil is here in the swamp, Chickenbone and what evil do you think we brought?" asks Res.


Andrzej finds the walls of the shack to be covered in grimy, greasy soot.

"I guided ye here because ye were lost," Chickenbone says simply. "Outsiders don' last long in de swamp without de guide."

To Res he says, "You here de folk out dere. They's tryin' ta ward off de evil wit their rituals. Dat s$%$ don' work - leastwise not against what they facin'. Somethin's stalkin' the swamps at night. Somethin' dark. And they's scared."

Refresher: recall that you saw the corpse of a native, drained by a vampire and discarded in the mud.

Leandro sees nothing of interest outside, although the distant drumming grows in intensity.


29/29HP , AC17

Taking care across the ricketty bridge, the bard enters the shack with a certain apprehension. For the old man must be crazy, powerful or ruthless to manage to survive in the swamp and away from the villagers.

His eyes are drawn to the strange fetishes and loa that adorn the building and Chickenbone. Letting Res speak, he's slightly chilled by the old mans' reply that the group has someone following them, or maybe that they are the evil that's entered the swamp. Tybalt glances to Leandro & Eliva and immediately shakes off the latter thought.

"Aren't we all lost, it's a rare individual who knows where he is." Tybalt replies inclining his head to the shaman; "Contentment is seldom found."


Male Human (Taldan); Init +0, Perception +0; Paladin 5 {35/55, LoH 4/6, CON: -2}

Leandro listens to the conversation inside the hut as he watches. "Aren't dark things always stalking the swamps, old man? This land is full of dangers. I am surprised your people are not accustomed to dealing with them," he interjects, sticking his head through the doorway for a moment with a nod to the elder.


Male Human Magus 5 AC21, T14/16, F15/17, Hits 40/40, Init +6(+8), F+7, R+6, W+5; Perception +0, Arcane Pool 9/9

"They is scared? I do not wish to die like that native we saw, but perhaps you know more of what happens here in your swamp? More that will help us end the threat maybe when we stumble around your place. Saving us must be for a reason of yours. Logically."


"Aye," the old witchdoctor says slowly. "Our purposes is de same, in a way. It's true, they's always darkness in the swamp, but there was a balance, and the folk survived. Now, they's somethin' new."

He rises shakily to his feet, and approaches the smoldering hearth. He carefully stirs something simmering in a small kettle.

"You lookin' for Monerre," he says, without looking up. "He's a bad man, his mind twist like the mangrove branches. But he always keep to himself - bothers himself with the dead, not with the living." He turns to look at you once again, his old eyes suddenly weary and tired. "Even darker creatures come to see him, though. Unliving, they was. Ever since, something feedin' on the swamp folk. 'N they's scared."

He adds in a low voice, "Whatever come to the swamp to see that necromancer - it don' have no taste for the dead. Now it want the living."

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