Thrawn's Gallows of Madness (PFSRPG) (Inactive)

Game Master Dennis Muldoon

Hasmed nods, looking about for cloths that he may use to wipe away the goop.

[ooc Knowledge Arcana. Sorry I didn't repost the spoilers for that. They got eaten several times and I gave up on them.[/ooc]

Hasmed picks up the doll like creature and his hands are covered in what looks like a mixture of purple goo and blood. He looks to see if he can stop the bleeding, and quickly realizes the creature isn't really bleeding out, but melting, leaving him with nothing but the liquid mixture after several moments. He finds various bloody rags, trying to use them to wipe his hands.

Ingrge, bow still drawn, looks over his surroundings, alert to anything unusual...

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27

Hasmed looks on with alarm as the creature melts in his hands!

Knowledge (Arcana): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

Having noted the odd result with the stabilization, Quazel looks askance at the dissolving creature in Hasmed's hands, and offers a rag.

Knowledge(Arcana): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

"Well...there is nothing we can do with that," Khafra says. "Perhaps we should report back to the mayor," he suggests.

"Think we should search here a bit more first..."

The creature seemed to be related to a homonclus, although it is missing both wings and a stinger. It likely had features resembling it's creator. You aren't certain if the creature wasn't "normal" due to errors in creation, interference of the purple goo, or both.

-Posted with Wayfinder

"There is much we must do Ingrge. But yes, let us search around here more. Gods alive, dead and yet to be, this madness is frightening."

Quick search of the kitchen before heading upstairs:
The smell of rotting food and stagnant water rises from the filth in this small kitchen, mixing sickeningly with the strong, coppery scent of fresh blood. Broken jugs, upturned trays, and scraps of food litter the room. In the sink, a large bowl filled with chewed and spatout food floats in thick, bloody water in the sink. An open door to the south reveals a ransacked pantry.

Spending an time in or even near he kitchen is vomit inducing, but out of combat that is no longer a factor.

Ingrge will quietly go upstairs, bow at the ready, checking for tracks, and staying alert for anything out of the ordinary...

Stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20

Nursing his wounds, Quazel prays, "Gorum, give me sight,".

Casting heightened awareness.

He follows Ingrge, carefully looking around.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 4 + 2 = 8

Truddig recoils at the stench and disorder in the kitchen, but catches his breath after finding nothing and returning to the main room. Once he and the rest of the Pathfinders have allowed stomachs to settle, he follows the others up the stairs, attempting to be as quiet as possible.

Stealth: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Khafra covers his mouth with his head scarf to avoid the stench. He follows the others, wary of any more creatures.

perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

Hasmed wearily follows, letting those with a keen eye check things out.

Nothing but rotting food and blood can be found on the kitchen. Upstairs, there are two hallways leading to 3 doors. (Nw, ne, sw) I'll get map up from computer.

-Posted with Wayfinder

"Shall we try the northwest room?" Khafra suggests.

Ingrge nods to Khafra, whispering, "I'll cover you..."

Entering the Northwest Room...

The shelves in this storeroom have been ripped off the wall
and lie in a heap on the floor, along with their now-wrecked
former contents—bloody linens, a broken broom, and other
ruined household supplies. Past the storeroom is a tidy
washroom that appears oddly untouched by the surrounding
messy chaos.

"What happened here?" The dwarf looks around in confusion. "More than that, what have we gotten into? This is no problem of a wandering child, or distracted apprentice. There is something deeply sinister going on." He proceeds to examine the room deeper, looking for any other clues.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

@GM: you mentioned a SW door but I don't see one...did you mean SE?

Ingrge will search as well...

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Yes,I did mean SE

Entering the washroom causes the mirror to fall off the wall, revealing a nasty, scrawled message written in blood in a childlike hand: “You know nothing! You ruined everything! Your friends hate you! I HATE YOU!”

Ingrge shakes his head at the writing. "Perhaps Gellion or one of his friends wrote this? Shall we try the southeast door? I'll cover whomever enters first..."

Khafra agrees with Ingrge. "Perhaps something has come over one of these apprentices...something possessing one, perhaps. I will go in first," he says, then enters the southeast door.

Hasmed stands close by, eyes wide and looking around worriedly.

"None of this makes any sense," Quazel replies. He barely seems able to keep up with the chaos.

This small room contains a simple bed, desk, and chair. Thick webs cover the west end of the room, where the bed sits—and two humanoid forms appear trapped within. Sticky, purplish-black strands cling to the desk and chair on the east side of the room, except in one spot where the strange filaments have left a clear space around a small piece of metal.

A spider attacks from the ceiling as Khafra enters, biting him in the arm before anyone even realizes it is there. The spider is covered in purple goo.

----------
Initiative (Bold may post)
ROUND 1
Ingrge
Hasmed
Bugs
Quazel
Truddig
Khafra (1 dmg, dc 14 save vs poison or take 1d2 ⇒ 2 str dmg)

Ingrge fires off a cold iron arrow at the mutant spider...

Longbow: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Confirm: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25

Extra Damage: 2d8 ⇒ (5, 6) = 11 (19 Total Damage)

fort save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

Hasmed moves on in, before taking a guarded, amateurish stance. "Now feel the fist that will undo the evils of Man!" he calls out, overdramatically.

Fist vs Bug: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

And, as if to prove how bad he is, he swipes wide at the creature.

Ingrge's arrow strikes the spider, and it drops from the ceiling dead.

Ingrge grimaces. "Sorry Khafra, I wasn't quick enough to keep you from being bitten...my apologies..."

Ingrge then draws his dagger and begins to cut free the two humanoid forms trapped in the web and attempts to aid them...

Heal: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

"It is a minor wound," Khafra says as he squeezes the two holes to get the poison out. "I will be fine."

Truddig joins Ingrge at the bed, trying to help him free the bodies trapped inside.

Heal, aid another: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Hasmed nods at Khafra, a gesture of empathy and understanding before using his weapon to slice away the strands of webbing.

While the others tend to freeing the figures on the bed, Quazel examines the metal free of interference. What is it? Why is it untouched?

Knowledge(Arcana): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

As Ingrge tries to cut 'me free and give them aid, he tries speaking to them as well...

"Can you hear me? Who are you?"

Ingrge determines they are in a comatosed state, losing consciousness completely.

They are at -1 hp and 0 strength

I'm assuming my Heal effort stabilized the one with -1 hp...with Evernight bolting, not sure if we have any way to heal them though...

Ingrge will get his waterskin and attempt to revive the least hurt one (0 hp) to consciousness by gently splashing a little water on his/her face...

Quazel finds the arrowhead is made of cold iron.

Some scribbled notes can be found on the desk underneath the vile corruption read, “Adverse reaction to cold iron. What about magic? Fire? Cold? Further trials are required.”

A small chest next to the desk contains six flasks of acid, two flasks of alchemist’s fire, two tanglefoot bags, a potion of remove disease, a potion of lesser restoration , and three potions of cure light wounds. Everything is neatly labelled.

Quazel starts gathering the flasks, and adds, "It appears this... corruption is vulnerable to cold iron."

He smirks with inward pride and adds, "As all things do eventually yield to iron."

Ingrge looks up from the two hurt ones and grimaces...

"Cold iron? Then 'tis the stuff of demons likely..."

Looking back to his "patients", he says to Quazel, "Can you hand me one of those cure light wound potions? Perhaps, I can revive one of these enough to get some answers..."

Ingrge attempts to gently administer the potion to the most likely to regain consciousness first...

Khafra considers the comatose forms. "We should get these back to town...to a cleric, perhaps," he suggests.

"Perhaps, but Jurnidja the Ever-Worried does say that one should take great care in dangerous places that even the tiniest rock not hide a deadly scorpion" replies Hasmed to Khafra as he motions to the last unopened door.

Taking the victims to the temple, the priest is able to revive the husband. (It will be another day before he can revive the wife due to being out of spells to help them.)

The man seems confused as to where he is. "The spider...is it gone?"

"Yes it's gone...we killed the spider and pulled you and your wife from the web. You're at the temple and the priest is taking good care of you both. You and your wife will be OK...

Can you tell us what happened? And can you tell us where Gellion might be?"

Gellion's father explains, "Gellion has been acting quite oddly lately, consumed by some sort of strange alchemical experiments. We recently heard him ranting about a warehouse, and saw him heading in the direction of Marcuccio Bravoni’s warehouse with one of his friends, Morvinarr. The tavern-keeper’s apprentice appeared quite drunk, which is unusual. When we went to confront Gellion after a terrible racket in his room, we discovered the spider within, along with a horrible little blood-stained man."

Ingrge nods gravely at this news...

"Thank you. Can you tell us the quickest way to get to this warehouse?"

He then turns to his companions. "I think we should head to this warehouse at once..."

"This alchemical experiment seems to have gone awry," Khafra observes. "This warehouse seems to be our best lead..."