|DM Tides of the Accord|
Year 987 of the Accord of Athanes
Report to the Lustrated Father Agerth:
Abluted Simund: “I had then seen this -- the Sleeper stirred, and the halls of the Chosen rang again with cry of battle and din of shield and spear.”
Lustrated Agerth: “And was it the same? Perhaps the Typhoon Struggle begins.”
AS: “As much as it could be other – I see now only shadows.”
LA: “Lustrated Birgerth, what think you?”
LB: “The reading of dreams is not our way, it is a thing of the tomb, and of the shadows. Only those who worship the dead would heed these phantoms.”
LA: “Should they be proven true….”
Fragment from the Tidehall, which was discovered following the destruction of Indomitable Will, having apparently drifted on the slow currents of the Orbragg and was recovered by Abluted Eirick three days before his death.
The piercing din elides once again. Doubtless, it will arise again soon, likely in an interval shorter than its previous subsidence. Perhaps even before its recent eruption has ceased to resound within the seemingly infinite shards of amethyst, fluorite, tanzanite, and other orchid-hued geodes that encase the dizzying expanse of the Orbragg.
For a hopeful moment, the guttering shade which invariably consumes the chasm alongside the hideous tremors withdraws somewhat, allowing a million slivers of illumination to play across the mirrored surfaces encrusting the cavern’s dizzying miles of crystalline panes.
But it is, without reserve, a false hope.
Indeed, the vastness of the great vault has increased itself in recent times, for no longer do the mighty fleets of war barges assemble together for bold sallies against the Gorgaummoth, the accursed infinity of burning depths which both entomb the Sleeper and give tortured birth to Her endless hordes of virulent spawn.
From the fortified vantage of the hundred keeps that encircle the outer face of Last Redoubt, until recently imagined to be impregnable, the devastated carcasses of the other six Austorian bastions unfurl menacingly before the barricade sentinels, offering grim testimony of an impending and irresistible doom. For with the passing of each perilous hour, the city’s storied form, an expansive shelf, several miles in length, which presents a distinctive silhouette reminiscent of a miner’s sickle, lessens its promise of any lasting refuge from the multitude of tendrils, heaving fearfully in a great gibbous mass of writhing shapes, which are moving upward, slowly but inexorably, towards its blackened gates.
Soon, the Orbragg, millennium-long refuge of the Austorian people, must needs be abandoned for the upper reaches of the Auggammaon, and a last stand begun at the fortifications of the Dragon’s Teeth. And when they inevitably fail, the remainder of Athanes’ children will speedily join their forgotten fellows.
Unless some now un-imagined reprieve should be found…
In a violent inversion of its title, the Plaza of Assembly stands almost empty, leaving the solitary remaining shrine of the Old Faith practically unguarded, or at least so it appears.
Despite this, the congregated forces of those sworn to the Seven might at any moment sally forth from upon the broad esplanade which joins the unoccupied platz with the lofty ring wall of the Great Khthon, from whose once teeming fleets of battle barges only a handful of badly damaged craft survived the last sortie into the raging flames of the Gorgaummoth.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Year 60,135 of the Accord of Athanes
Hollow light falls upon a face without a visage.
The vision of the wolf is not heard.
And many of the dead shall not complete their dying.
Citation of The Book of Hidden Remembrance, Folio A, x, iii-iv
The Melting Isles are, defensibly from all dispute, the most inhospitable clime in the many thousands of leagues which comprise the torpid tropical mantle seated upon the center of Larnsiar’s girdle.
A supernal, violent inflection in the humid climate, they perch venturesomely upon the very precipice of the vast oceanic chasm which separates the western dominions of the Free Kingdoms from those of the east: most nearly the frigid habitations of the People, but also and the varied domains of the Gorh’Tonh Legions, and, further yet, the vast plateau that forms the heartland of the Devonorian Empire.
Despite its extreme depth, so great that none has reliably gathered report of the trench’s exact boundaries, this is but the lesser of the two great crevasses that score the shattered continents of Laanisar and Tegeresin, the greater being the endless depression which divides the submerged lands, and is rumored to hide the remains of the most ancient city of Mourn. Of this fabled dominion, long since succumbed to some shadow, only less is known of the Austorians, told of in only the most ancient writings, who it is said vanished in the lightless reaches beneath the Isles in an immeasurably earlier age.
The Isles’ advantageous position astride the quick-running tides of a great north-south tributary of the slipstream regularly bares envoys from many of the previously enumerated territories, so much as from others both further removed in distance and far stranger in mien.
Indeed, the passing of the Wasting Moon witnessed the visit of a delegation from the lands of the Emissaries, the mysterious cabal, elect ministers of Gehenna’s yet more unknowable General, that rule absolutely a Daemon-pledged empire comprising almost the entirety of Tegeresin, whose extent is thus much greater than any of the western territories. First Daughter of the People, Ice Which Burns like Fire, received them on behalf of her revered mother, and heard with great interest of their pursuit of a mysterious army of many peoples that had recently harried the mightiest citadels of the Emissaries.
These fell tidings have not yet left the hearing of the People, when Walks a Shadowed Path, one of many deputies from the House of Grey Wolf’s Keening now quartered in the Isle’s glistening demesnes, receives an unexpected summons to attend the upon the pleasure of the People’s Eldest Sister, no pretext being offered by her messengers for the unforeseen assignation.
And thus it has come to pass that the young spell warder finds himself riding the knife-edged waves of the Frostlit Sea which surrounds these southernmost dominions of the People, the high-arcing profile of the carrack’s osseous pinions providing little shelter from the ocean’s eager spray.
More ominously, Pelicans Alighting on Still Waters, Mouth of the First Daughter, has turned from his long-held attention towards the quickly arising face of Rhimeward Isle, the most southerly atoll of the archipelago, and fixed his gaze instead upon the person of Walks a Shadowed Path. Despite the clarity of the former Deathspeaker’s apprehension, his true motives, and those of his mistress, remain as hidden as the First Daughter’s palace within the thick mantle of dew which enshrouds her ill-rumored abode.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Hrungnir: please make a Perception check.
Hrungnir froze, looking around. Was he being watched? With a sigh he shook his head at his own rattled nerves.
Walks-A-Shadowed-Path walked the grand concourse of magically enhanced ice that led from the water itself up to, presumably, the Manse of the Cub of The Chosen of Great Tunbaaq. As he climbed the steps in short, even measure, his eyes alit on the form above that watched him, which resolved itself into Pelicans Alighting on Still Waters, the Voice for the cub.
Walks-A-Shadowed-Path was unsure of what was at play here, but he did not let such things show on his face. It would do his master and family ill service should he do so; instead he climbed, focusing his attention on the task at hand, made harder as the steps increased in depth as they rose, causing even the most hardy soul to be short of breath when they reached the top.
Finally, Walks-A-Shadowed-Path stood even with Pelicans Alighting on Still Waters, and each man took the other's measure, while both waited for Pelicans Alighting on Still Waters to speak first, as was his right.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
A rictus grin breaks the steely visage of Pelicans Alighting on Still Waters, an expression which would never have been allowed him during his disgraced tenure among the Deathspeakers of the Mother of the People.
“Many hues of darkness unite in your wake, pup of the Wolf’s Keening,”
“Tarry not then, First Daughter has need of you,”
The thick mantle of dew concealing the uppermost steps of causeway breaks slightly to reveal two lithe shapes, likely also from the number of the Deathspeakers who had forsaken their oaths and turned to the will of Ice-Which-Burns-like-Fire.
First Daugther’s Mouth beacons you with an intensely predatory gesture, encouraging a further ascent with an outstretched hand pointing towards Manse of the Cub of The Chosen of Great Tunbaaq
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Something, and then nothing. The sensation passed, and yet... perhaps... ? Even barring the obstacle posed by the shadows of the glowering statues and the literal downpour of his people's shattered dreams, Hrungnir's concentration is not stilled as it could be by his training in the monastic conventicle of the Tidehall, lost refuge of the Old Faith in Indomitable Will, in legend the city founded by Detlief Sun Eyes.
Perhaps... something has been missed? Or has it? Could a renewed focus yield deeper insight?
Hrungnir, the DM reminds you that this is an option for skill checks. You may also continue on your way...
"May the blood of your foes always freeze in their veins at the mere mention of your name. I shall make haste." Walks-A-Shadowed-Path then bowed formally and made his way up the ever escalating steps up into the mists, and to his destiny.
Taking the briefest of moments to compose himself, Walks-A-Shadowed-Path would pretend to be in awe of the edifice before him.
Just my imagination. I need to get out of here. He reduoubled his pace as he set out.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
The Year 3,654 of the Accord of Athanes, in the 7th year of the reign of King Mircea-Tieresas II
Merceria, alongside the now-divided Empire of Khallanar, was among the first of the Devonorians’ southern possessions to gain its freedom – albeit chiefly by retreat of imperial forces as a consequence of the Second Witch War, the great civil strife in which the acolytes of the Malestrom quenched at last the final guttering embers of devotion to Bright-Eyed Athanes and her son.
In the absence of the force imposed by the legion barracks, especially the departure of the Blackwater Knights and their ferocious ichthyoid steeds, Viceroy Nall Hatarr found his territories besieged on all sides, enemies once held at bay by the martial power and supernatural might of the Empire’s armies now drawn irresistibly to the city’s wealth and advantageous vantage at the juncture of several major arms of the arterial slipstream:
From the east by the predations of the Ice Elves’ roving carracks, the feared profiles of their glacial decks bristling with great shafts of bone scavenged from some unimaginable terror,
From the south by the recently-emerged forces of the Gorh’Tonh Legions, each of their tribes led into battle by a totem beast the size of the largest mountain,
And from the west by roving mercenary bands in the employ of other newly-freed Devonorian provinces and city states.
The Viceroy’s reign concluded ignominiously when he was discovered in his palace by a force of Gorh’Tohn raiders leading the charge of the Kraken Tribe against Merceria’s defenses. And so he passed into memory, and was followed in similar manner by a dizzying procession of self-appointed potentates, bandit-kings, and madmen. None managed any lasting tenure, as a parallel succession of foreigners brought Merceria into subjection time and time again.
In opposition to the impermanency of these varies incumbencies, the Guild of Bargemasters found its fortunes to be both steady and of ever increasing mien.
For the onslaught of conquerors only served to broaden their commercial routes, which were served not just by the city’s fortunate locality, but also their possession of a unique mercantile instrument – the Mercerian Collectors.
These distractingly colorful mollusks with enormous, beady eyes were capable of enveloping and transporting cargo within an otherworldly space of unfathomable dimensions contained within their rainbow-hued shells. Seemingly immortal, they also habitually discharged the wondrous remains of a million years and their many lost peoples, treasures collected in these creatures’ eons of scavenging before their solitary breeding ground was discovered by the first settlers of Merceria.
In the absence of a true ruler, the Bargemasters only increased in power, their guild halls becoming the true seat of government in the city.
The Year 4,322 of the Accord of Athanes, in the last year of the reign of Mad King Galthus
The present days have changed little. The brief freedom of the city following its conquest by the Scorpion Tribe of the Gorh’Tohns, and even briefer weathering of Mad King Galthus’ reign, promises to be ended soon by the arrival of the Pale Oracle Nassiral Hate’s heptad of colossal orcas, a mysterious totem named Cynophantis which knows no parallel among those of the other Gorh’Tohn Legions. Once again, the Bargemasters will make entreaty and provision their occupiers for however long their tenure should last, collecting tribute, dispensing messengers and supplies, and, occasionally, eliminating upstarts who might threaten the delicate balance of power in the city.
But some whisper that Hate’s rule will not pass so quickly as those of another thousand petty tyrants, for his seizure of the Trade City of Braxtaron has proved more durable than was once imagined…
And despite the Guild’s long-standing dealings with assassins, rumors persist that a new power stalks the shadows and the nights of Merceria, hunting killers as if they were themselves the prey – indeed, that the masters of the great trading junks and their wondrous cargos have finally been superseded.
Excerpts from The Grand Chronicle and Annals of the Temple of the Goddess Karavara (Lynnhast: Printing House of Tellarn and Garrin, 7,231; Volume 2), 725A, ii, 3-726A, iii, 21
The ruined defenses of Merceria cast deep shadows over the narrow thoroughfare which runs before the Bounty’s sturdy entry portal. The caravan house, whose whole name is Cendara’s Bountry, titled for its famed mistress, the huntress Cendara of the Free Realm of Andovondor, is among the many such establishments which serve travelers at the Bargemasters’ pleasure, though to their proprietors' immense benefit.
Indeed, each officially licensed hotelier is leased at least one of the famed Collectors, whose uses are many – a source of endless storage and victual, as well as, it is said, an undiscoverable hiding place.
It is here that the Nagas have dispatched one of their most promising agents to discover the truth of the darkness seeking their hidden city before it, or so the events of recent months presage, discovers them.
The promised contact was indicated to be waiting within, but who can say?
|DM Tides of the Accord|
-Nassiral Hate to the emissaries of Baxtaron, in the 1,322nd year of the Accord of Athanes
Stirring the water with an enormity greater than any mountain, the seven immense orcas that together comprise the enigmatic and invincible totem of Nassiral Hate, the Pale Oracle, make short the way between the Gorh’Tohn territories and the famed Trade City of Merceria.
Under the command of the mysterious holy man who has single-handedly succeeded in uniting almost all Gorh’Tohn tribes beneath his banner-- the twisting tusks of the tursaansydän -- the martialed war barges of the Prophet’s Legion, each a fortress unto itself, follow ponderously in the wake of their angry and living gods. Each bristling with immense siege craft, they bare between them the greatest force ever assembled by the Gorh’Tohn Legions – a significant achievement among a race tirelessly employed in the making of warfare.
Second in grandeur only to the flagship of the Pale Oracle himself is that of the Siegemaster Kcalden, the principle architect to many of Hate’s recent victories – the capture of the siege city of Gorh’Tahn’Tohn from the giant Grömm Hellscream, the virtually bloodless seizure of Baxtaron, as well as a number of successful forays against the forces of the Ice Elven dominions.
Merceria, the desire of many nations, however, represents a new summit of ambition for the Pale Oracle – and even his closest advisors secretly doubt whether Hate will be able to seize this prize from the Legions’ many enemies.
But, if he should prove victorious… where next might he set his sights? Perhaps even the Cities of the Spire?
Borne aboard Kcalden’s war barge astride the heptadic immensity of Cynophantis are not just his confidants amongst the Devil Fish Legion, the totem of which is a manta ray whose miles-wide wingspan eclipses the sun with its passing, but other allies as well – chiefly a Sahuagin remnant, survivors of the genocidal Bloody War in which the other races of the deep almost drove them to extinction.
This last branch of a sundered people have cultivated their warlike talents in the service of other powers, seeking to aid the eventual destruction of those who long ago sought theirs. This is the purpose of the Mouth of Dagon, the druidic circle that serves the great shark through seeking his enemies’ demise.
Though they have found a place among Kcalden’s forces, yet they walk their own path, but where it will wend who can say, or whether it shall follow or depart that of the Pale Oracle and his seemingly implacable will?
The diminishing of the sun has brought a summons to the Maw to attend upon the Siegemaster, a task to which at least a few of the brotherhood must direct themselves.
Their own desires may also draw those assembled to other ends upon Kcalden’s great machine of war – such as the rumors of a clandestine convocation of smugglers willing to part with the intoxicating ink of the Kraken, a heady tincture which stirs the imbiber to a supernatural frenzy, for some as yet unknown price…
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Hrungnir, kindly roll another Perception check!
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
Hrungnir was far too stressed to take his time and think. If he was he might have slowed his pace to properly look around. As it was, all he could think about was the very real possibility of being torn limb from limb, of his Breastplate being hacked into scrap, of his name being as forgotten as his corpse. He rushed past the memorial of Baidur, trying not to think about what the hero would think if he could see what had become of his beloved city. Hands gripping his weapon tightly, the cleric knew one thing. He had to get away, and he had to do it now.
Enjoying the rewards from his recent achievements in his service has given Brin and Akash the chance to lay their eyes on the Siegemaster. A privileged opportunity to him and his growing ambitions since the druids had watched his fervour in battle and seen what he could accomplish as one of them with the correct focus. Akash followed faithfully behind Brin as he glided his way towards the Maw and the awaiting Kcalden.
Satazia sighs and runs her hand through her long red locks as she gazes at Cendara's Bountry. The caravan house, is where she was informed her contact was supposed to meet her.
This is the place, best get to it then She thinks as she adjusts the belt that holds her rapier.
She wears a shirt of sharkskin, grey of color made from the hide of a great white shark, which leaves her midriff exposed. Her gloved hands reach out and push open the door and with a swish of her snake tail, she glides forward through the water and into the caravan house proper.
Once inside, her green eyes scan over the patrons, sizing them all up and seeing if any are trying to catch her eye.
Now, what was my contact supposed to look like again? She wondered as she swam towards the bar to order a drink, best to keep up appearances and pretend to be a traveler after all.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
The departing instructions received in the very presence of Zyllotir, First Speaker now for many years in the Great Council of Talashaku, are irrevocably etched in the waking minds of all the emissaries dispatched that day unto the four corners of sunken Laarnisar – the heavy foreboding borne by his warnings an enduring heaviness upon their now dispersed attention.
Yiltoz of the Clutch of Satnuit had met his untimely end in the northern seas, the prey of some great hunter – only several rocks stained with unrecognizable ichor returned to his family’s crypts beneath Talashaku the Hidden.
Perhaps more terrible yet was the dispatch of Ankiratana of Gammatil’s Clutch but a fortnight past in these very climes -- her clutch brother Miltasahl returned an impression of his sister’s corpse to the Mindwardens that indisposed even the most resolute among the Hidden City’s inquisitors. Flensed as if prepared for consumption or display, her limbs splayed in a macabre double-jointed frenzy beyond their mein in life, and yet the most effecting enormity of this desecration devoured her once petite lips, now replaced by a jagged, smiling snarl.
Certainly, many of the Council’s envoys had met untimely ends in this and other ages, but persistent whispers from the darkest regions of the deeps bespoke something darker, for only the passing of a recent moon had borne shadowed tidings uttered by the Daemon-enraptured Emissaries of distant Tegeresin attendant in the loftiest halls of the Melting Isles. Even they, slaves of Gehenna’s invincible General, had wearied the loathsome witch who ruled among the Elves with complaints of pitiless sieges made against their greatest citadels…
|DM Tides of the Accord|
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Reading all the lore that just came my way. Great world building, I’m loving the lands of the austorians and the society they have built. Will digest it, and then read over what is in the recruitment thread. Happily here for when the next post is up.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Thats generally how it goes with dwarves. You have to love grim last stands with stubborn hope to be a fan.
As he walked on, Hrungnir came under the shadow of Tadeas White Thought. He looked up at the bearded statue and thought to himself Should Tadeas have a beard? Does it matter? In a generation will there be anyone left to ask this question? It was a sobering line of thought.
The statue looked just like his father, a fact which the old man took great pride in. The old man took great pride in many things, most of them self-delusions. Burlock Pearlblade. Overseer of the Seventh. A name which brought with him so much Glory. So. Much. Gold. Which brought Hrungnir so much shame. Burlock was a priest of the Old Faith, but he couldn’t heal the sick, shape the waves, or even raise a harpoon gun in defense of his people. He was far too far for the latter and far too impious for the former. All he had believed in was himself and the accumulation of power. It was his father’s name which had gotten Hrungnir into the clergy. It was his sins that made Hrungnir into the pious Austorian he was today. And it was the excess of austorians like his father, and the tragedies which had shaken the foundation of his people, which had put him into this situation.
His father was dead, Hrungnir knew that. Even the great runic blade of his far distant ancestors wouldn’t have been enough to save him. He had been negotiating a trade deal, something outside the purview of his role, but within his sphere of influence, when the city he was in fell. He lost his life and the ancient harpoon-axe. It wasn’t like he would have been even able to use it. Hrungnir hater himself for hating his father, but it felt like his entire life had been spent drowning in the sins of his father.
It was clear what he had to do. The world had changed. Nothing would be the same. He had to go up. The old enemy was stronger than ever before, and his people teetering on the edge of the abyss. This battle would soon engulf the entire ocean. The entire world. It was no longer just the fight of the Austorians. The ‘high-born’ needed to know. For their sake, as well as the Austorians, they needed to come, and they needed to fight.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
A chilling moment passes, the force of the detonation reverberating in the lowest depths of Hrungnir’s skull, before he realizes that a fizzlepop aquanon from one of the plaza’s squat watch towers has just been fired, and that one of the weapon’s powerful bolts is streaking towards the statue of Tadeas which he had just been contemplating.
Its impact shatters the memorial of the Oracle Prince, the seemingly impermeable rock collapsing tumultuously upon itself in a roiling cloud made of a thousand jagged shards.
“Unholy wrath of the Devourer! Will you please slow down!”
Peaking over the crest of a spike-laden crenellation, Hrungnir observes the rising visage of Sigrunn Eifsdötter, herald of the Wavebreakers’ four Buergermaesters.
These ancient worthies, each speaking for one of the four trade winds, together oversee the operations of Last Redoubts’ surviving shipwrights’ guild, and were responsible for dispatching the now exasperated gunslinger to the former safe house of Hrungnir and his fellow Abluted only an hour or so in the past, though the time has grown much greater even in its fresh recollection.
Into Hrungnir’s view besides Sigrunn also come the faces of Mirna and Torhild, absent any sign of Astrid, her brothers, the inquisitor Solveig Roodhand, or any of the others.
Soon, it becomes apparent that Mirna and Torhild both bear the claw-like scars of Hraoth’s initiates. Before Hrungnir has any chance to contemplate this unnerving observation, Sigrunn’s voice again breaks in upon his consciousness.
“I managed to save these two – we ambushed the party of Haghen’s deputies at the warehouse over the Emberstrand. Otrygg and Hanef fell to the phantoms, but Isi Frostulfsson still lives, and flies ahead of us to the Buergermaesters. These two with me were all that managed to escape in the ensuing confusion.”
The gunslinger gestures with outstretched hands, indicating Hrungnir’s to compatriots on the left and right as he rises further behind the towers’ topmost siege-works. He is now standing atop the pyramidal dais on which the remarkable harquebus had discharged.
“The Buergermaesters’ have a plan, but first we need to reach the skiff at the lower port. I told Isi to take the clipper in case we didn’t make it.”
The keening begins again, the warm illumination of the vaults’ geodes fade once more, and the world trembles with the unbridled fury of the great power which lies beneath in the unknowable depths of the fiery abyss.
Sigrunn screams over the din the moment it abates sufficiently to permit his voice.
“We don’t have much time, Skardisson,” the mention of Hrungnir’s father sits uneasily despite the press of closing danger, “before being struck down by one of the phantoms, Otrygg espied an arm of the horde rising from Hraoth’s palace, it will be here within the hour! There are things gathered there greater than any in the menagerie. I don’t think the upper city will be able to hold…”
Before the gunslinger can finish the keening commences once again, louder than in any previous iteration.
A shadow slowly covers the plaza as Hrungnir and the other Austorians slowly realize its source in a roiling mass of black shapes darker than any shadow that arcs precipitously over their heads – colliding soon with the pavement not a dozen steps from Hrungnir’s position.
The cyclopean megaliths upon which the memorials’ of the plaza rest, each weighing at least several tons, are upturned as if weightless by the force of the impact.
A dark, impossibly contorted shape rises into view as the enormous stones crash again upon themselves, creating an artificial earthquake that joins with the tremors that accompany the eerie keening in a truly awesome cacophony.
The THING'S luminescent eyes flash ominously…
See link to picture above.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Like that which bore the scion of House Gray Wolf, the vessel sits low in the surf, its deck a ragged iceberg broken from the northern climes of Islinblare by powerful magical arts.
These same sorceries also welded the arcing pinions of the ghost spires to the shattered glacier, and thus permitted the sea-born movement of the Everborn to the new dominions of the People, and especially in their frequent sorties against the hundred some odd collection of pitiable so-
called kingdoms to the west.
The carrack’s port and starboard bristle each with half a hundred claw like ghost spires, many of which terminate in ethereal wisps of ectoplasm.
On board, a grimacing nanoqaluk bear, one of the Peoples’ earliest weapon races created from the fusion of a polar bear and a great fish, is attached to the deck by a winding bond of supernaturally-twisted bone. Two guards and the animals apparent handler also crowd the deck.
Suddenly, three additional figures emerge from the broad, shallow slope which descends into the caverns of the sub-deck. One is instantly known to Walks a Shadowed Path – Light of the Moon’s Reflection, junior peer of House Moonshadow, and a fellow disciple of He Whose Name Was Lost.
As the second carrack breaks up against the steep ascent to the Great Manse of the Tunbaaq’s Chosen Cub, Light of the Moon’s Reflection is led swiftly beside Walks A Shadowed Path by what can only be presumed are guards.
Barely audible, Light of the Moon’s Reflection whispers to his long friend of House Gray Wolf in the unnerving tone of the Language of Sighing,
“I will ask, but not expect, your forgiveness. First Daughter’s cubs hunted memories of Morning Shadows’ death, and this small spirit had no strength to evade them, anymore than she fled her death at the very steps of the Great Portal.”
It was all too much. The blast, the betrayal of such worthies, the loss...the summoning. Looking at it, Hrungnir thought Doom approaches. One wave at a time it wears us down, eroding our civilization. Soon we will be but dust on the waves.
”We need to go!” It would take a veteran squad of warriors to take that thing down. And time. They didn’t have either. ”Before the horde makes our mission impossible. We need to do this.”
The Carrack swells and drops with the tide, even so close to the islands. Of the two men standing on the prow of the ship, the leaner and taller of the two is Walks-A-Shadowed-Path. As the other speaks, Walks-A-Shadowed-Path waits until he has finished, then says in the language of resigned determination "Our place in history is rarely ours to choose. Such is the nature of these times. We must remember that long is the memory, and even longer the will, of our mutual friend." as he finishes speaking, Walks-A-Shadowed-Path turns and looks Light of the Moon's Reflection squarely in the eye, as if to drive his point home. He then turns and begins making his way up the steps alongside his fellow.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Remember, you do have friends with a canon in a watch tower, but you need to coordinate with them.
Unless you use a special ability or something to get out of the way, or create a diversion, you need to roll for initiative.
Well I guess getting out of dodge can be done in initiative one way or another...
Init: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
|DM Tides of the Accord|
You are able to use tactics for this, including coordinating with your friends in the tower. You probably understand from the fluff I sent you that a toe-to-toe fight is probably not a great idea against this class of foes. You also have the opportunity to use a special ability to flee, create a diversion, or imagine some opportunity for a diversion in the architecture of the plaza. For instance, you can have your friends make a hole in something nearby, or there could be a statue to push over on the thing, etc., any such something might work if you imagined something plausibly there; my rule here is if you "look for a rope, there's a rope." Just describe it well! I'm hoping to encourage tactical thinking with the XP rules. There are a lot of options open here that don't need to involve Hrungnir becoming an Abyssal snack in the next couple of rounds. Why don't you try to flesh out a tactical reaction in the next post -- your friends may intervene, but it would be better if you communicated with them somehow.
Staring at the creature, Hrungnir’s harpoon suddenly felt very, very small. This was the type of creature that could devour a platoon of soldiers. It was the type of creature that artillery was needed to take down, or powerful magic. It was also the type of creature that would demand a swift military action, which in turn would end his flight before it began. For a moment he just stared in horror. Then he snapped out of it.
”We live and die by the ancestors!” He shouted it with all of the bravery he could muster. ”I’ll lead it over to Lord Anthor. When it gets under the statue, blast the base with everything we have. If Anthor wills it, his statue will strike the creature, and will slow it down while we flee. If he does not, then I will meet him soon enough.”
Shield of Faith cast, Move Action towards the statue. Next turn rage, standard action to fire a shot to get its attention and keep moving. Double move instead if it looks like it will get me. Also if this is daft enough to get me eaten, let the dice fall as they may. Knowing that death is always an option makes everything so much more fun
|DM Tides of the Accord|
okay, um forewarned so... I think you may have the opportunity to make that bloodrager character you were thinking about after all. Let's see how this goes... He rolls a 1 for initiative, so you probably have some space for maneuvering. However, I need you to do up some rough stats for the Austorians in the tower, with the assumption you might have to use one of them as your character if you die, so assume similar build rules. Feel free to make one a bloodrager... Remember we are using the alternative action economy from Unchained.
Thundercrasher/Beast of Charr’Tarr (Fiendish, Chatoic, Evil, Extraplanar, Voidpawn)
CE Huge Animal
Init +0; Senses low-light vision, scent darkvision 60 ft. Perception +14
AC 22, touch 8, flat-footed 22 (+14 natural -2 size)
Wounds 34; Vigor 45
Fort +12, Ref +7, Will +4
Resist cold 20, electricity 20, fire 20
DR 5/good SR 11
Speed 30 ft.
Melee Tail +14 (3d6+12 plus stun); Tusks 4d6+28; Scythe Stalk 2d4+14(x2)
Space 15 ft. Reach15 ft.
Special Attacks Smite Good
Str 27, Dex 10, Con 17, Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 8
Base Atk +7, CMB +17, CMD 27 (31 vs. trip)
Feats: Great Fortitude, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Overrun, Power Attack, Weapon Focus (Tail), Weapon, Focus (claw), Weapon Focus (bite), Channel Essential Energy, Cleave, Great Cleave, Improved, Initiative, Improved Sunder, Iron Will, Power Attack,
Skills: Perception +14
Bane Blood (Ex): When a Thundercrasher is damaged by a slashing or piercing weapon, its blood erupts in a blue flame. This causes 1d4 points of fire damage to the character striking the Thundercrasher, if the character is within 5 feet of the Thundercrasher. A Reflex save (DC 10 plus damage inflicted on the Thundercrasher) negates the fire damage. If the damage is caused by a successful critical hit, the bane blood instead affects all creatures within 5 feet and inflicts 1d6 points of fire damage.
Feed (Su): A Thundercrasher can feed on the pain and suffering it causes. Feeding is the only way a Thundercrasher can heal damage; cure spells fail, and natural healing is impossible. Once per day, a
Thundercrasher can attack with a natural melee weapon to draw strength
from a living opponent. If the attack hits, the Thundercrasher is cured of an amount of damage equal to that inflicted on its opponent (up to the opponent’s current hit points +10). The wound caused in its opponent is spiritual, and cannot be healed naturally or with spells until the injured creature is purified. The creature suffers 1 point of Charisma drain each day until its wound is purified, at which point the drain is undone. Purification requires the creature to be the subject of a turning attempt which causes turning damage equal to or greater than the Thundercrasher’s HD, or an atonement spell (no XP cost).
Smite (Su): Once per day a Thundercrasher can make a normal melee attack to deal extra damage equal to its HD (maximum of +20) against a good or lawful opponent.
Twist Reality (Su): The presence of a Thundercrasher causes its surroundings to bend around it. The air is darker in its vicinity, wood seems to warp, and flames turn blue. This grants the Thundercrasher concealment (20% miss chance). Even creatures using blindsight or similar abilities are subject to the miss chance, but it can be ignored by a creature using true seeing.
Warp Magic (Ex): Thundercrashers are unnatural creatures, and a strange aura exists around them that warps magical energies. When a spell or spell-like ability is cast within 30 feet of a lesser Thundercrasher, 40 feet of a greater Thundercrasher, or 60 feet of an arch Thundercrasher, the air around the Thundercrasher wavers slightly. The caster must succeed on a Concentration check (see chart for DC) or the spell is miscast and lost. If the Thundercrasher is the target of a miscast spell, each creature within 10 feet of the Thundercrasher must succeed on a DC 15 Fortitude save or be jarred by the dispersing magical energies and nauseated for 1 round. Make the Concentration check to determine success only after all other distracting factors have been resolved (but before attempts at counterspelling). Thundercrasher and half- Thundercrasher are immune to all effects of warp magic.
Keen Sight (Su): Thundercrashers have low-light vision and 60-foot darkvision. Thundercrasher see as if under the influence of true seeing (caster level 20th), and can see perfectly in darkness of any kind, even that created by a deeper darkness spell.
Immunities (Ex): Thundercrasher are immune to poison and all natural diseases.
Resistances (Ex): Thundercrashers have resistance to cold 20, electricity 20, and fire 20.
Stun (Ex) The Thundercrasher’s tail can deliver a powerful, stunning blow. A creature struck by this attack must make a DC 23 save or be dazed for 1 round. If the strike is a critical hit and the target fails its save, it is instead stunned for 1d4 rounds. The save DC is Strength-based.
Smite Good 1/day as a swift action (adds CHA bonus (+0) to attack rolls and damage bonus equal to HD (10) against good foes; smite persists until target is dead or the fiendish creature rests).
Swallow Whole (Ex): The Thundercrasher can swallow a grabbed opponent of a smaller size than itself by making a successful grapple check. Once inside the Thundercrasher, the opponent takes 2d6 plus the Thundercrasher’s Strength modifier points of bludgeoning damage per round. A swallowed creature can cut its way out by using a light slashing or piercing weapon to deal 30 points of damage to the Thundercrasher’s interior (AC 10 + 1/2 Thundercraher’s natural armor bonus). Once the creature exits, muscular action closes the hole; another swallowed opponent must cut its own way out. The Thundercrasher’s interior can hold 2 opponents one size category smaller than itself, 8 opponents two size categories smaller, 32 opponents three size categories smaller, or 128 opponents four or more size categories smaller than itself.
Tusks (Ex): The Thundercrasher’s tusks deal 4d6 plus twice its Strength bonus points of damage when it makes a charge.
Scythe Stalks (Ex): The Thundercrasher has two long stalks with scythe-like blades sprouting from its body that it can use as a natural secondary attack. Scythe stalks inflict 2d6 points of slashing damage, and do triple damage on a successful critical hit.
Voidspawn: Voidspawn are creatures born in the unnatural ecology of the Void, whose corrupt nature affects their surroundings. All calling and summoning spells cast within 30 feet of a voidspawn gain the evil descriptor (altering their effects, in the case of summon monster and similar spells where the creature conjured is affected by the descriptor), even if the caster could not normally cast evil spells. Voidspawn also leave traces of their evil on their destroyers. A creature who kills a voidspawn (summoned voidspawn cannot be “killed” for these purposes) must succeed on a Will save (DC 10 + 1/2 voidspawn’s HD + voidspawn’s Charisma modifier) or have the voidspawn’s aura cling to it for 24 hours before dissipating. The voidspawn’s evil aura is the same strength as when it was alive, and while it does not replace the creature’s natural aura, it is revealed as surrounding the creature with detect evil spells and similar effects.
From first time rolling...
5d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 3, 6, 4) = 25 18 (Str)
5d6 ⇒ (3, 5, 5, 6, 4) = 23 16 (Dex)
5d6 ⇒ (5, 2, 5, 1, 4) = 17 14 (Wis)
5d6 ⇒ (1, 6, 6, 3, 3) = 19 15 (Cha)
5d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 2, 2, 4) = 20 16 (Con)
5d6 ⇒ (2, 3, 1, 4, 4) = 14 11 (Int)
Str (18) Dex (16) Con (18) Int (11) Wis (16) Cha (13)
And...which is more thematically appropriate? Abyssal or Draconic Bloodrager?
I'm caught up on reading everyone's stories, but I don't necessarily understand how they all weave together.
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As I understand it, these are our intro scenes. Kind of like dragonage origins. Each race has it's own starting location, and when you get through it you meet Duncan...I mean, the party comes together.
Str (18/22) Dex (16) Con (18) Int (11) Wis (16) Cha (13) Wounds (37) Vigor (10) AC (19/13/16)
* To Hit: +6
* Damage: 1d10+6
* Rage: +2 Hit, +3 Damage
* Power Attack: -1 Hit, +3 Damage
* Fate's Favored (+1 to all luck bonuses)
* Indomitable Faith (+1 will saves)
Lvl 1: Power Attack
* Knowledge Religion: 1 skill point (+4)
* Intimidate: 1 skill point (+5)
* Perception: 1 skill point (+7)
* Sense Motive: 1 skill point (+7)
* Masterwork Nodachi (P or S, 1d10, 18-20 crit, x2, brace)
* Coral Breastplate (+6 AC, +3 max dex, -4 ACP)
Class 1 Primalist Urban Draconic Bloodrager Abyssal Bloodline
* Fast Movement (+10ft swim speed)
* Controlled Bloodrage (8 rounds per day, +4 strength, fatigued for 2x rounds)
* Abyssal Bloodline (grows 1d6 damage primary natural claws when bloodraging)
Class 2 Arsenal Champion Warpriest
* Weapon Focus (Nodachi)
* War Blessing (3 + 1/2 his warpriest level,
- War Mind (minor): At 1st level, you can touch an ally and grant it a tactical advantage for 1 minute. At the start of its turn each round, it can select one of the following bonuses: +10 feet to base land speed, +1 dodge bonus to AC, +1 insight bonus on attack rolls, or a +1 luck bonus on saving throws. Each bonus selected lasts for 1 round.
* Lvl 0 Spells: Detect Magic, Purify food and water, Mend
* Lvl 1 Spells: 2x divine favor (can be cure light wounds)
Who is he?
The type of bloodrager you described in the background PMs. Looking for a way to control his powers, he has aligned himself with the Old Faith.
Name Hragni Brinebeard
Str: 3d6 ⇒ (5, 4, 1) = 10
Dex: 3d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 5) = 17
Con: 3d6 + 2 ⇒ (5, 6, 2) + 2 = 15
Int: 3d6 ⇒ (2, 2, 6) = 10
Wis: 3d6 + 2 ⇒ (2, 4, 3) + 2 = 11
Cha: 3d6 - 2 ⇒ (3, 3, 2) - 2 = 6
* To Hit: +1
* Damage: 1d10+1
* To Hit: +5
* Damage: 1d10
Lvl 1 Feat: Rapid Reload (Heavy Crossbow)
Lvl 1 Fighter: Weapon Focus (Heavy Crossbow)
* Coral Breastplate
* Austorian Waraxe
* Heavy Crossbow
* Knowledge Engineering: 1 skill point (+4)
* Intimidate: 1 skill point (+2)
Who is he?
Smuggler, thief, gambler, self-described lady's man. Hragni is an Austorian who has reason to get out of town because of his own misdeeds, rather than any sort of noble purpose. He'd rather brave the waters above than his debt collectors within the city.
* Hrungnir casts shield of faith and moves towards the statue
* Sven and Hragni turn the artillery piece in the tower towards the statue and load it
Calling out to the power of the ocean and his ancestors within the waves, Hrungnir cloaks himself in a protective shield of faith. As he does so, he yells at the leviathon "Oi! Ugly! There's one Austorian here who still breathes. Come an' taste me axe!" Doing so, he runs towards the statue, and points frantically at it with his gun as he runs while making eye contact with his kinsmen in the tower.
Up in the tower stood Sven and Hragnir. Hragnir scratched at his beard, a habit born from the little crabs that lived within it.
"What's the bloody priest doin'?" Sven looked down, and at that moment wished that he was down there where the fighting would be. He could feel his fingers itch, being so close to the Abyssal creature. "He's a fool alright. Means to distract it. Think he wants us to shoot the statue..."
Hragni nodded at that. "Aye...could work. The cannon won't stop it, not with one shot. But that much stone might well slow it down. Let's get to it! Oh-" The wiry dwarf turned to see that Sven was already turning the heavy piece of siege equipment. "Ye've got it I see. I'll, ah, get the alchemical charges."
|DM Tides of the Accord|
They are the back story of all the characters so you'll have some idea what's going on when you get to the first scenario. They will all tie together where you'll end up at the first scenario, it will just take a little. It's like the Wheel of Time, Stormlight Archive, or Game Thrones where there are different vignettes that tie together. Your story might be like Danaerys' and it slowly interweaves with the Westeros action. That make sense?.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Hrungnir, I am going to describe that battleground you are faced with through a couple of images posted above in the campaign details with the other images. Let me know if you need further clarification. These work better for me than trying to draw this part out on a flat sheet .
The Plaza of Assembly has two levels. One is the ‘floor’ of the images below the bridge-like constructions and the spires. These are laid out in a grid of towers and spires that cross the area. You are on the ‘floor’ below the bridges and spires. Your friends are in one of the spires. The Thundercrasher is also on the ‘floor’ with you, as is the Tarak of Baidur .
Each tower has 12 aqannons. These are the stats: Aquannon; Large; direct-fire siege engine; 7,000; gp; 5d6 ×4 ;80; ft. -350; P; “Aquannon: This cannon-sized aquabus is used as a siege engine. Its design allows it to shoot harpoon-like missiles over large distances with great accuracy. Their additional statistics (as described in Paizo Publishing’s ULTIMATE COMBAT) are Crew: 2, Aim: 1, Load: 3 and Speed: 10 ft. The aquannon is also examined more closely later in this chapter.” Your friends can each access one easily .
Remember that we are using the alternative action economy. I will post the cheat sheet to that. The big thing is that the Thundercrasher gets to use its worse natural attack three times if it wants..
A very small version of this monster was kept in the menagerie in the seventh city. Hrungnir’s father had a baby specimen chained up and took Hrungnir to see it once to frighten him into behaving when he was a child, threatening to toss his pet, a baby hydraphoenix, to the ‘chomper’. They are named (e.g. “Beast of Carr’Tharr,” after a particularly deep area of the Gorgaummoth in which they were first encountered. This area has ‘upside down’ gravity and is a side chamber of the larger deeps much like the Lesser Orbragg. There may been some kind of spawning chamber there, as mysterious construction floats in the eerie luminescent green waters of the inverted, super-heated chamber .
Roll for all your friends’ initiative, and then I highly suggest they start firing. There may even be something much huger and more terrible on the tower if they poke about a bit for them to fire. None of them have ever been up there before, so it will take some exploring. There are several things that look like they might be cranes and some huge blocks.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Sorry, I didn't see the part where you describe the character actions until I looked again. I still don't see where the other three rolled initiative. Let's just clarify that again.
Thundercrasher = 1.
I want to clarify what your friends are doing. They can try to use the cannons. One of them can look around to try to find a more powerful siege weapon while the others shoot.
They can try to collapse something on the Thundercrasher.
It seems extremely likely it will start climbing the tower given the Austorians' experience with these kinds of creatures.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
For the purposes of these posts, --------------------------------------------- is going to equal a Star Wars scene cut .
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- The throne of First Daughter is the very heart of the Manse of the Chosen Cub, which is also known as the House of the Clipped Wing of the Hummingbird, for there have many of the souls of the people been stilled by the power of the second whelping of God’s immanence.
Those of the People who have offered completely their hearts to First Daughter have led Walks A Shadowed Path and Light of the Moon’s Reflection through the vaulted corridors that lead to the audience room, each one pierced by dozens of alcoves containing portals to unknown paths.
Noticeably, the ghostspires have been recently ripped from their places, denying the Everborn access to First Daughter’s most secreted realm.
For it is said that First Daughter is unequaled among this millionth generation of the People in the opening of the ways, and some heretics even place their wayward liege higher in estimation than the First Queen of the People, whispering that she has opened a path to a Third Forbiddance stranger and more fearsome than those of what was and what may yet be.
First Daughter is at ease upon her throne, a twisting, obscenely-shaped hunk of some lugubrious, bleeding black substance that devours light and exceeds in darkness even the deep shadows of the cavernous chamber, whose edges are hidden from view despite the multiplicity of sickly blue flames that spark in a thousand small apertures cut into the many rings of pillars that encircle the throne.
Her laughter tinkles in an eerie evocation of the slight sound which first hints of a glacier tumbling into the sea, resounding with the ringing notes of the Tongue of Rejoicing,
“So it is that the Grey Wolves’ pups hold more to their hearts than a less wise one might believe.” .
A heavy pause weighs upon Walks A Shadowed Path, its absence threatening to crush him before First Daughter’s voice again intrudes, bubbling fervidly with the sibilant tone of the People’sLanguage of Inquiry,
“The One Whose Name Was Forgotten – I would know more of him, and from one of the mouths before me.”
The silence is less protracted, but its quick end heavier than any cessation of sound. First Daughter begins again in the steely intonations of the Speaking of Death, its hollow note trembling the chilly droplets that fill the air.
“Your close-keeping of this weighty matter has displeased your mistress. The one of the two mouths before me that speaks first his name and deeds shall live, and the other shall never again taste the breezes.”
In case that’s not clear, Eliasape definitely brought both you and your friend here to set you against each other and she is threatening to kill the one that speaks second.
Tell me what you want to do – if you want to try and spit out what you know before Light of the Moon’s Reflection (he is Lawful Neutral, but it’s not clear how he’ll react), I’ll have to devise some kind of check to see who wins. You can also try to undercut him somehow if he manages to speak first.
Eliasape is in the ballpark of 20 levels, and her councilors should be 12+, so definitely take into account she or one of the others might read your mind or something like that, so you need to be clever about how you present things if you try to flub or mislead.
|DM Tides of the Accord|
It can scarcely be considered a small matter that Ictaiojh'Oc'Xylthixr possesses perhaps the most well concealed of demesnes even within the age-shrouded confines of the Hidden City.
For a thousand-thousand dreaming ages the city that once birthed the Spire itself has slumbered in the depths of the great chasm betwixt the warring lands of Larnisaar to the West and those of Tegeresin – the Enslaved East.
Once the heart of a verdant river valley, then the jewel of a lush island archipelago, and now reduced to a light-forbidding vista of rubble at the heart of the Sundered Seas.
Or so it is rumored to be set down in the endless records that the myriad generations of Elder Asabassians once studied in the winding chambers beneath the Towers of Memory, but who can say, for who yet among either the living or the sound of mind trespassed upon the archives within the reach of sure memory?
But here, still, in the city now called nothing but Morn, which longs for but shall never again know the glories and pleasures of her distant youth, a power undeniable stirs, the fruit of the Keening Moon and the ruin it loosed so freely upon the cursed generations borne beneath its passage.
For the warring sects of Basconarides and Yshcanidrae have yet to conclude their foment-making, struggling amongst themselves for the legacy of the Keening Moon, and yet they may unleash some new wonder or terror upon the unsuspecting world…
Concealed from all sight, the abode one can only suspect of some long-dead sorcerer or hedge-witch, perhaps the most remarkable truth of the invisible manse that shelters the Elder Adabassian known as Ictaiojh'Oc'Xylthixr is that its mystical occlusion comprises its least remarkable feature.
Within the domed chamber, ornamented with filigreed wyrms as is so much of the city’s architecture, the hollow tones of the animated sconce Illiilllin’Iss’lliiniishiiniisiir, one of the hidden mansion’s army of somehow living accoutrements, breaks upon the hearing of Ictaiojh'Oc'Xylthixr,
"Mistress, there are strangers lurking outside the gates.”
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Seeking the wisdom of the Sea Elven cabals of the Spire Keepers of Ta’athanes has brought Zalona to the hospitality of Cendara’s bounty in the Broken City of Merceria.
She still remembers the words of Brother Asalon, a Pinnacle of the mendicant order of the Spire Keepers, who related an old legend that, among the secrets of an impossibly ancient city embraced within the miniature worlds hidden within the shells of the Mercerian Collectors, was that of a way other than death by which Zalona’s people might renew themselves.
More he could not say, but read from a soothsaying scroll of the ancient Tai’Cai Hexagram, which, along with the throwing of the bones, indicated that Zalona should arrive at the “bounty of the virtuous mistress of slayers,” and wait, exactly here, for whatever sign that the Three Fates, the principle deities of her people, should send.
This being her best guess as to the direction the revered Pinnacle had meant to direct her, given the ornamentation of the inn’s portal, a vast bleeding cornucopia dripping with the spoils of the hunt, surmounted by the awesome figure of the Mother of Slayers, the Queen of the Suit of Sickles in the stratagem-heavy card game called by the either Rusalka taroth tara or heshedai, she waits for what Ezsenren the Cutter of the Thread shall make of the matter.
Her table is placed in an alcove of Cendara’s Bounty, with a wide view of the room. The chamber mills with a diverse population brought by the many caravans quartered in the teeming catacombs beneath the main structure, and which exits in three directions other than the main entrance, including a low bluff to a back alley.
This neglected back entrance which closely resembles an ill-fated thoroughfare of Ta’athanes where Zalona witnessed a group of Gorh’Tonh pilgrims accost a Sea Folk of one of the lesser-known of the Hundred Kingdoms. To make the matter straight – the Thread Cutter assuredly puts her eye upon this place.
Perhaps the One Who Seals All Fate also places the eye upon the parties convened in the greater taproom. One appears to hail from the Enslaved East, ambassadors of Ashlaguttah in search of souls. Another is a group of Darkrider Mercenaries. Yet another is a group of Sea Elf monks, perhaps related to the Spire Keepers with which Zalona consulted in Ta’athanes.
[/ooc] The soothsaying of the Sea Elf monk Asalon has led you to the same inn in Merceria outside which Satazia now stands. You can move around to get a better sense of the room, approach one of the groups of travelers I mentioned, go exploring, or something else. [ooc]
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Before Satazia has any more time to react a blaring din breaks out from one of the anemone towers that surround the city, its call reverberating to its hundreds of fellows, and back again.
The alarm has been raised!
Through Satazia does not understand the language of the moaning alarm, she does apprehend the frightened murmurs of those around her
“The Pale Oracle….!”
“Cynophantis shall devour….!”
As the mistress of the house of the Clipped Wing of the Hummingbird makes her demands, Walks-A-Shadowed-Path pondered the situation for a moment, then...pauses, and looks at Light of the Moon’s Reflection thoughtfully.
Ideally, what I'd like to do is answer at the same time as Light of the Moon’s Reflection. What sort of check would I need to succeed at to do that?
|DM Tides of the Accord|
Oooh that's clever! I'd give you an XP story award for that if we were using them for this campaign instead of leveling up by story arc
Looking around, I'm inclining towards a Perception check, some of the scenarios seem analogous Perception Check. Does that seem fair to you?.
I think you need to make one to see if you pick up on what he's doing, since you don't even know if he's answering yet.
Also, you should take into account that, based on your knowledge of Nimpiu culture and court etiquette that Eliasape is either going to be impressed like I am or extremely ticked off. Whether she just kills both of you depends on how badly she wants to know whatever it is, and whether just killing you can interrogating a spirit is easier or more effective or whatever.
Satazia said in her post that she entered the Bounty, and was swimming to the bar for a drink. And the alarm around the city that you put in her spoiler... I assume that I also hear that... so incorporating it here, but if I do not, let me know, and I will revise.
Zalona listened intently from her alcove to the conversations going on in the room, trying to determine if the proffered sign would be given to her, and if not, in what direction she should seek it out.
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21
Something had to come of this. She had already been away from home too long. She should probably just kill the food and move on.
She paused in her defeatist thoughts as she saw a woman in sharkskin armor swim in. Nice. She shook her head. She was married. She wasn't here for dalliance.
At that moment, alarms rang out in the city, and she heard the worried whispers of the people around her. Perhaps this was the sign. She particularly was interested when someone mentioned a pale oracle.
This alarm had better not be about me she thought. She was sure that she could do some damage here, but she was definitely not a threat to everyone.
She beckoned a likely food source (male) over from the bar, and spread her stinging tentacles wide, just in case this turned into something negative. She could use him, and if he died, well perhaps that was her answer, though of course she hoped for better. All of this effort was for a better answer than that.
* Hrugnir 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
* Sven 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
* Hragni 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14
* Hrungnir casts shield of faith (2AP) and moves towards the statue (1AP)
* Sven and Hragni both man an Aquannon (each need 2 crew!)
5d6 ×4 ;80; ft. -350; P; “Aquannon: This cannon-sized aquabus is used as a siege engine. Its design allows it to shoot harpoon-like missiles over large distances with great accuracy. Their additional statistics (as described in Paizo Publishing’s ULTIMATE COMBAT) are Crew: 2, Aim: 1, Load: 3 and Speed: 10 ft. The aquannon is also examined more closely later in this chapter.”
* Sven and Hragni as the two crew for the Aquannon, load it (3AP). The plan is for Hrugnir to get the beast's attention to draw it near the statue, and then to fire the cannon on the statue, so that it lands on top of the beast.
* Hrugnir rages, moves to make sure he is not in attack range of the beats, and shoots at it.
Hit: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 5
* Hragni and Sven will fire the Aquannon at the statue.
Hit: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Damage: 5d6 ⇒ (3, 5, 6, 6, 2) = 22
Hopefully that is enough to make the statue fall ontop of the beast, to buy them time to escape.
I was going to suggest either Perception or Sense Motive. Note that I was intending to answer her question, but in a way that left both of us alive.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8 Doh!