With Strange Aeons Even Death May Die

Game Master Synxol

We each dwell upon an island forged by our ignorance amidst the black seas of infinity. Should your feeble mind correlate the seemingly disassociated contents of your skull, thus affording you an opportunity to leave your island behind, terrifying vistas of reality will entomb you and you will never know peace.

It was only a matter of time...every species can smell its own extinction. The last ones left won't have a pretty time of it.


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Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

"That is the perfect place to keep a key warm and safe, Ssilax says to the owner of the sank, speaking in Undercommon, adding a slight bow as he is given the key.

"Thank you," Ssilax says politely to the woman before she closes the door. With a sigh of relief he carefully sets down his heavy backpack, rolling his shoulders as he stands back up. Responded to Dog's silent stare at his back, Ssilax bends down and unties the harness, dropping the rope into a coiled on his pack. Leaning his weighted spear against the corner with his pack, he stretches. The young Theurge watches as Dog sniffs around the room, exploring his new surroundings.

Glancing over at Me'lar guiding Argon, Ssilax remnds himself he has some work to do before he can follow Wrathe's example.

"Okay, Argon after we find you a nice spot to sit on the floor, I'll take a look at your eyes," Ssilax says quietly, in case someone was listening at the door. It was unlikely, but he was feeling a bit paranoid at the moment. "There's nothing really in here. Well, a shelf, a small basin, and a water bucket." The robed and cowled dragonkin turns to look at Me'lar for a few moments.

"Me'lar, I'm not sure how much of my face you saw earlier, but, if you haven't noticed, I'm very much not human." Ssilax tells her, before getting ready to examine Argon's eyes. Hastily, the young Theurge adds, "I'm not a monster or anything like that. I just don't want you to be surprised or shocked when I take off my hood and cowl."

'That, and I don't want you to think I'm some sort of demon out to eat you, and start screaming bloody murder. It been that kind of day.' Ssilax thinks to himself, a faint grin tugging at his scaled muzzle behind his cowl.

Tugging his gloves off, the golden scales covering the dragonkin's clawed hands where visible. Humming to himself, Ssilax slides his hood off his head and pulls down his off white cowl. Scratching the base of one of his ivory horns, Ssilax smiles politely at Me'lar, taking care to keep his viscous looking teeth from view. The black and white scales of the Mask of Nethys catch the dim light. The rest of the platinum scales on his head almost glow in the faint light of the rough stone room.

Examining Argon's eyes, the dragonkin glances at the others.

"I would recommend we set up watch, just to be on the safe side. I'll let Ry.., our friend, know where we are, and then I would like to pass out for a while. Any other thoughts while most of us are still awake?" Ssilax asks of the others. Taking a quick pause, Ssilax informs Rygear of where they staying and the name of the marketplace.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon sits and lets Ssilax look at his eyes. To alleviate any concern Me'lar may have about Ssilax, he says, "Ssilax delivered twins this morning. He's a skilled healer, and we've known each other, and the others here, for eight years. I trust all of them completely and utterly."

He sits for a while, finishing up the food he tastes so well even though he cannot see it. "Do many spells have a permanent effect? I thought most were temporary, except for healing and mending spells and the like."

Listening to the water, he is finally calm and relaxed. He says, "Is that window open? Is it safe, as in, is it possible for others to climb in? And also, is it a viable escape route should something bad come after us in here?"

Silver Crusade

..^]

Me'lar says to Argon, laughing, "So, once Wrathe falls asleep it be on ye to ask all the questions suddenly? Yaar like children, you two."

She makes herself comfortable, but does not seem to fall asleep. Considering how her world has turned upside down today, much as yours has, it is no surprise.

Silver Crusade

..^]

Me'lar watches Ssilax and Argon, most likely curious about Ssilax's appearance. She relaxes, and obviously her mind is going over the day, because she asks a few questions in clarification about what happened down there in Siranor.

Rygear takes a little bit of time to get back to Ssilax, but when he does he says, "Very good. I'll be there in a while. I have picked up a scroll that should help with Argon's eyes. Try to keep your heads down. If you could review everything you have seen, heard. Smelled. That would be good. Think of it as one of Dainoth's reports. It's a good mental exercise to help you remember and present your experiences. Dainoth is still imprisoned, and it seems your group has been thought to have magically transported somewhere. I guess the magic residue left behind told them that. That may be in your favor, in that they think you are gone gone. See you soon."

Silver Crusade

..^]

Dorian goes to look out the window. After spending a bit of time there, he turns around and says, "That river down there... I think it's the same one we were walking in. It seems narrower, but may be deeper too. We could always jump out here if we had to. Just so you know."

He sits cross-legged and before he starts to meditate he says to Ssilax, "Ssilax, anything you can do to help me heal..." His crossbow wound is not looking good - it has not been properly treated, and bleeds almost constantly, his strange thin blood.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss shakes her head at Ssilax and Argon asking Me'lar questions " Aye they are at times, still they could be worse. " She finishes wagging her eyebrows in jovial tone. Spending time looking at the crossbow, she winces when Dorian asks about getting his wound treated, Daxniss had no real clue on how to treat a crossbow bolt and let Ssilax tend to the monk.
" I'll keep first watch since most of you are going to need the rest more. "


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Nodding to himself, Ssilax quietly informs them of what Rygear had told him through the Messenger Amulet. By the time Dorian had left the window, the young dragonkin had finished up his eye exam. At the mention of his wound, Ssilax goes to his pack and gets out his Healer's Kit, and walks back over to where Dorian is now sitting.

"Sorry about that Dorian. On the bright side, I think I've figured out how to cast the type of healing spell that you require. In the mean time, let's check out that wound." Ssilax says as he kneels down hear the half-living monk. "And good thinking about jumping out the window if need be. We should probably pull up the bucket so that the rope isn't hanging down for someone, or thing, to climb up."

Taking his time, Ssilax carefully binds the monk's still seeping wound. He grins at Me'lar when she pipes in about the two asking questions. As the young Theurge works, he answers Argon's question.

"Well, there are a lot of different types of magic. A fair number of spells power depends upon the caster of the spell. Then, there are those that cause an effect, rather then bending the mundane rules of reality. In the case of Blindness, a sliver of negative energy is currently lodged in your eyes. This magic stops the muscles in your eyes from working." Ssilax pauses as he thinks for a better description. "Think of the Blindess like a dam, and what you would see is the water. Unfortunately, the tools required to remove the dam are magics that I currently do not possess. Thankfully, our friend has the right tools for the job."

At Daxniss mentioning that she will take the first watch, Ssilax turns his head and smiles at the young rogue.

"Thank you," he says with a nod.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

While none will envy the headache he will have upon waking, Wrathe rests well, and dreams of large women.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon rests in place. He hopes Rygear has the spell he needs.

"Thank you Ssilax." he says quietly.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss sits down her back resting against a wall waiting for the others to bunk down. Daxniss hopes that Ssilax would be able to stop Dorian's wound, drawing a dagger, she sets it beside her.

Silver Crusade

..^]

Like births, earthquakes tend to come at night, or so it seems to most people. Whether or not that is true is another story entirely.

It is during Dorian's watch, after Daxniss', when the ground starts shaking.

Rockin:

Does the ceiling lose some rock and ding someone? 1 in 100 chance.: 1d100 ⇒ 17

It moves for a time, and small rocks and dust come down from the ceiling and walls. It seems like a long time, but after it is over you realize it lasted a handful of heartbeats, only. Looking around in the dim light shed by the magical torch, you see everyone is okay. Dog is excited, and looks to Ssilax to make sure all is good.

A few more precious heartbeats pass, and no more shaking is felt. But there is a knock on the door.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

A groggy Xthian staggers to his feet, his master's staff ready to brain something or something, eyes casting about to ensure everyone was safe.

Trillions of tonnes of stone hanging above one's head was claustrophobic enough, but to add the very real possibility of collapse on top of it was almost too much.

Moving to the door he deepens his voice a bit and heeds the call to attention in the Undercommon tongue, "Yes."


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

"It's alright, Dog," Ssilax says inbetween coughs, having caught a lungful of dust upon sitting up. Coughing a few more times, the dragonkin looks around at his friends and Me'lar. "Everybody alright?" the Theurge asks.

At the sound of a knock at the door, his head snaps around to stare at the door. Hastily pulling up his hood and cowl, the dragonkin stands and grabs his weighted spear.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe tries to figure out what happened in terms of the quake, what it forboded, and if it was from natural causes.

Knowledge: Dungeoneering: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

Knowledge: Engineering: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss surges awake trying to make sense of the aftershocks of the earth quake, her body trying to alert her of danger. Daxniss manages to wake up enough to avoid rolling into the wall, she uses her hands to rest them on the surface.
After she had calmed herself and the quake it self was over she mutters a few curses to herself. Daxniss draws her rapier as quietly as she could and stands up. Daxniss pads over to the door and stands to the side of it, that way of the door is swings open, she will not be struck by it. Whomever would go through the door, would not see her standing in the open, hopefully allowing her to get a surprise jab.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wiping the sleep from his eyes Wrathe positions himself to open the door for the others to have maximum effectiveness via sight lines. He guides Argon to a position where the man can swing forth, and understands where a potential foe might be coming from, then taps Dorian on the foot to ensure that he is ready.

Silver Crusade

..^]

The earth has stopped shaking.

Wrathe knows that earthquakes do happen down here, and they are not a pleasant experience, as an unstable ceiling, or (rarely) even a stable one, can collapse completely and crush people to death, or trap them in a small space. This is one reason there tends to be multiple ways to many spaces, and dead ends are avoided lest they live up to their names all too well. Of course, frugality has ensured that there remain plenty such spaces.

As to what causes them, of course many believe the gods of the earth occasionally show their anger thusly, while other less pious and more scholarly types have absurdly postulated that immense pieces of earth the size of nations push and pull at each other constantly, and that these tremors and quakes are a result of that conflict. Sometimes when a large such event occurs, smaller ones follow, within minutes or hours, but they are seldom as extreme as the originals.

Argon is sitting up, having moved at some point in the night to a spot between Wrathe and Me'lar. "I'm fine. Thanks. I wish... um Me'lar, how are you?"

Melar, also sitting, responds in a sleepy voice, "I'm fine too."

No answer comes forth from behind the door, at first. After a long pause, with no further tremors in the interim, but with several shouts and calls from some distance away, likely in Pinny's Market itself, you hear a rough voice say quietly, "Send out the girl named Me'lar, for judgment," from beyond the door.

Me'lar gasps, and quickly stands.

Silver Crusade

..^]

Dorian, ever protective even though he is still wounded, stands in front of Me'lar and says, "No!" shaking his head.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss shakes her head at Dorian's response, if the monk had kept his silence there could be a bluff at least attempted. Now a ruse would be much more difficult to say the least, convincing the voice behind the door would almost certainly be impossible.
" Sorry mate, you must 'ave the wrong door, no one in here with that name, just Merrill. " Daxniss says with a roughen voice in undercommon, and points to Dorian and Me'lar to go out the window and into the river with her free hand.

bluff check:

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Thinking for a few moments, Ssilax really hoped that the golem hadn't tagged along.

"What if we offered to "buy" you Me'lar? Would that work with your people? Rather than the implied sacrifice." the dragonkin whispers to Argon and Me'lar.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe activates his amulet, keying it to Rygear, "Time presses, we have been located. If you're coming then now would be an amazing time to come visit our sank."

He looks for a way to lock or wedge the door.

Whispering to the others, "Possibly a good time to explore that hole in the wall."

Silver Crusade

..^]

Me'lar shakes her head at Ssilax's question. "Na. Once the Clergy's decided, there's only two ways - submission or death. Want me ta go?" She looks more scared than you've seen her yet.

Dorian whispers, "Daxniss first, help Me'lar out. I'll go last and cut the rope."

Luckily the rope seems very strong and well secured. One need only throw out the bucket and climb down the rope.

Rygear's response is quick and his voice is urgent sounding. "Sorry, I'm still some distance from Pinny's. You've been found, down there?? What's the situation?"

And the door swings open, with an empty hall outside.

Silver Crusade

..^]

Before you can react (group lost init vs. a 23) two things appear simultaneously. One, in the hall, a man in a cowl, with a face masked in what strongly resembles the Norgorber holy symbol; and two, a small stone or object flying from the figure into the room, toward Me'lar.

The monk reacts quickly, swatting at the object, and hitting it with his open hand; and it is his undoing. The swatting hand disappears, and then quickly the arm, and soon the rest of him. Gone, replaced by a pile of dust inside his clothing on the floor. Only his eyes remain, falling on the floor, looking off in a single direction as if they still see.

Fort Save vs. DC 19: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
Damage: 22d6 ⇒ (5, 3, 2, 1, 4, 1, 6, 1, 4, 4, 6, 4, 4, 6, 2, 4, 4, 1, 3, 1, 4, 2) = 72

Though you cannot see the man's face, you have the impression he is disappointed.


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

"By the blessings of Nethys let's end this bastard. Wrathe, incinerate this piece of filth," Ssilax turning his gaze from the pile of ash that was his friend. "If he lives time, we start carving him to spare parts." The dragonkin hisses out in draconic. The Theurge voice was harsh, both cold and furious at the same time.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss snarls at the cloaked figure and rolls past him, setting up for a better position to between the foe who had killed Dorian and the others. However the only folk that would be able to work in consort with Daxniss was Argon who couldn't see, however that wasn't going to stop Daxniss from trying.
Daxniss comes out of her roll to stab the figure with a repose to the kidneys, her other hand drawing steel with her dagger as her final act and says " Bleedin Wanker, lording about power with those that can't defend themselves! I hope that other's revolt and tear your bleeding cult to pieces! "

acrobatic check:
1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
final move action draw dagger
attack with Rapier 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
damage 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

As soon as the hissing draconic was freed from his scaled maw, Ssilax begins rapidly casting a spell. Gathering up his energies, the young Theruge fires off a magic missile in a futile attempt to save them and avenge Dorian's death.

There was no way they were going to be able to climb down the rope with this bastard standing there.

Magic Missle:1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

It takes time for Wrathe to shake himself from his reverie, as his attention rests upon the monk. There was enough of him to consider resurrection, though his dhampir physiology and the cause of his death might cause that to be impossible.

Knowledge: Arcana (to determine if resurrection is an option): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 25

If they were going down swinging, then they might as well employ all their resources.

"Argon, in front of you and slightly to the left."

Their deaths should mean something as well.

"Down the rope Me'lar; quickly now!"

He considers ending all of them cleanly with an activation of his master's staff, but such an end was only for his last breath.

Instead he pulls forth his deepest resources (hero point for an extra action) and releases a cascade of clashing colours at his foe (colour spray, Will vs. DC 17, Mana: 4, Conjuration 1/1, Shadow 0/1) and then throws himself bodily at the murdering bastard.

"Enjoy this breath villain. for it shall be your last."

Staff Attack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon follows the sounds. He is not sure exactly what's going on, but surely it is combat, as he could here someone diving or tumbling, Dorian or Daxniss, and he could hear spells being cast in haste. There was a noise before that, as strange noise followed by gasps and curses. Then Wrathe, too, seems to have an extra step in him as he quickly casts some kind of spell and then moves to attack.

He draws both his falcatas and moves following Wrathe's direction, his falcatas kept down for now as he does not want to impale any of his friends. He wishes he had some spells to cast, to aid his friends, or something else, but all he has is his strong arms. Hopefully they are not useless without his eyes.

Silver Crusade

..^]

Daxniss and Wrathe move forward and attack, though it is narrow in the hall (just less than five feet wide). Wrathe ends up standing in the doorway and attacking with his staff. Argon moves forward but finds Wrathe in the way.

Ssilax's spell is effective, and the man jerks in pain as he is hit with the unerring bolt of force.

Wrathe's spell assaults the eyes of the attacker, a man who would be proud to be called "murderer", less so the other names that were given him a moment ago.

Save vs. Color Spray: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11

The magical colors hit him head on, as his mask helps him not at all. He stands, stunned by the display, and can do nothing else (-2 to AC, no Dex bonus). He need only move back a step to keep it a one-on-on melee, but he is unable to do even that. He is standing in the hall, near the door, just to the left from the perspective of the room.

Wrathe's attack on the stunned man hit his armor, unfortunately, and it is ineffective, after Daxniss' attack does the same.

Me'lar moves to the 'window,' which is out of sight of her murderous countryman. She holds the magical torch in one hand while she tosses the bucket out the window. It falls and splashes in water some twenty feet below, and the rope goes taut, attached to the very solid ring which is affixed to the floor.

Wrathe wonders if Dhampirs can be resurrected, and it seems likely they can be.

(You're up again; only Daxniss and Wrathe are in a position to attack at the moment - room is tight at the door)


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss growls and thrusts her rapier edge hoping to do enough damage to stop him from moving perhaps even ending his life. Her tumble past the man hadn't be as effective as she wanted it to, as she has no way at the moment to get move past him.

full round action:

attack with rapier 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
damage 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
if sneak attack is available 1d6 ⇒ 2
free five ft step (if possible trying to get into flanking position, if not then acrobatics check to tumble through his square as my move action for the round. Using Hero point before roll 1d20 + 8 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 + 8 = 23


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Dipping deeply into the last of his arcane reserves, Ssilax summons up the nearly last of his power. Shaping another magic missile the Theruge sends the ball rocketing towards the foul priest.

The rage that coursed through his veins almost disrupted his casting. The dragonkin could barely focus on anything other than sinking his teeth in the human fleshy skin. And ripping the bastards throat, so that he could enjoy the last few panicked seconds of life it bleed away from him.

Magic Missile:1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4. 0/2 Arcane mana; 1/2 Divine mana


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

Wrathe steps aside (5' step) to let Argon attack and launches the same spell again (colour spray, Will vs. DC 17, Mana: 3/4, Conjuration 1/1, Shadow 0/1).

He reaches down and scoops up Dorian's eyeballs, casually placing them in his pouch.

At this rate he and Ssilax would have a full person in their packs.


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon moves up, guided by Wrathe, and tries to throw himself into the feet of enemy.

Trip: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21 (-4 due to blindness, 50% miss chance)
miss chance, 1 is miss: 1d2 ⇒ 1

He executes a stylish sliding trip, but misses the masked man entirely, ending up prone on the floor.

Silver Crusade

..^]

Daxniss zips around behind the opponent while he is reeling from Wrathe's spell. But her subsequent attack is so poorly timed that she almost hits rock.

He is not so lucky with magic missiles, though, as an other blasts him and makes him grunt. He is starting to recover when another spray of color blasts his eyes. Wrathe had to move the spray to the right to avoid Daxniss, who is behind him to the left. It hits Argon, bug since he's blind he's not affected.

Will save vs. Color Spray: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11

Perhaps something in his troubled youth in Siranor caused it, but he shakes his head clear of the awful pattern that had assaulted him just in time to take another head on. Rather than draw his short sword and chop off Daxniss' head as he planned, he stands stunned again, reeling from the pain in his eyes.

Me'lar holds off on her exit out the window. She's currently sitting on the edge, ready to drop down.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

He wonders if their position had been betrayed by the owner of the sank, or if they had been followed.

Speaking rapid-fire in the tongue of the surface he snarls, "This foe appears beyond our meagre skills. Perhaps a short retreat, taking advantage of his blindness, and slam the door in his face, then out the window?"

Taking a step back (5' step), he provides room should the others wish to slide back into the small room.

He provides Argon an update on his position v. his foe, and where the others are.

Continuing in the common language he asks, "If one of you has a moment, updating our ride home on our current situation and location, would not go amiss."

Wrathe considers what he saw earlier, and wonders as to the likelihood of surviving a dive down into the water through the portal.

He had looked for something to wedge the door previously, and he does so again, wondering if a dagger would be sufficient in holding the door for a time.

Switching to Undercommon, "Me'lar, why do you tarry?" He expected that they were likely surrounded, but hoped against hope that that was not the case.

Luck had been on their side, and he held no illusions that it was anything but, but options were limited to once again he attempts to blind the man with an explosion of colours (colour spray, Will vs. DC 17, Mana: 2/4, Conjuration 1/1, Shadow 0/1).


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Reaching to the light, Ssilax summons his strength and begins to shape another spell. Pulling from the divine source felt like reaching into a warm light. With a proud voice, the dragonkin chants the only spell he has left. The prayer to spread Nethys's blessing to his allies flows easily from his scaled maw.

As Nethys hears his prayer-spell, Ssilax feels his strength drain as fatigue rushes into to take it's place. The young Theurge knew he had pretty much drained himself, but it would help out his friends.

"If we don't end this scumeater now, the bastard will keep hounding the girl. I'll skin this bastard alive before that happens," Ssilax growls in undercommon, his claws scratching the wooden haft of the weighted spear clutched in his hands. And maybe it would show the underdwellers they didn't have to fear these vile priest if they stood up to them as a group. "I'll not be afraid of this pathetic child-killing coward or his god of lies and trickery!" the dragonkin roars out.

Dog growls in agreement, barking furiously at the priest.

'I might be afraid of that golem though,' Comes the thought across Ssilax's mind.

Bless: Each ally gains a +1 morale bonus on attack rolls and on saving throws against fear effects. Lasts 2 minutes. 0 Arcane; 0 Divine mana.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

With one disintegrated, one rolling on the ground, most of their meagre magics expended, and very little damage inflicted despite how many attacks had been launched, Wrathe was dubious about their chances, but one committed for all and he would give as well as he got until his last breath.

Silver Crusade

..^]

Wrathe knows Ssilax has a key to the door, but there is not much else in here to jam under it, save perhaps Dorian's boots and clothing. It's not clear how well that would work.

As for jumping into the water, from twenty feet up it may not be that bad, and there is water there. It was shallow before, but seems a little less shallow here, according to Dorian's report.

Me'lar says, "I don't want to leave you here... Should I really go down?" She appears torn on the subject.

Ssilax can rest assured there has been no sight of the golem since the waterfall...


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon hears Ssilax's anger, and notices Dorian hasn't been heard from, so assumes the monk has been injured or killed. Feeling the legs of the enemy, he pulls out a falcata (quickdraw) and stands (move action provoking AOO, but nobody to make one), heaving upwards with both hands, into the man's crotch and hopefully up through his belly.

Attack at -4, miss% on a 1, Bless, flanking: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 121d2 ⇒ 11d6 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Silver Crusade

..^]

Argon misjudges where the enemy is and slices at air.

Wrathe sticks with success, shooting off another spray of color, avoiding Daxniss but not Argon. It is convenient, in this regard, at least, that the Slayer is blind.

Will save vs. Color Spray: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15

And again Wrathe's luck is better than the masked man's. He clutches at his eyes, unable to speak or do anything.

(awaiting Daxniss - you are flanking)


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss smile could be called cruel, as she finally had moved enough to get into position with Wrathe. Daxniss draws her rapier into a lunging motion hopping to finally land a blow.

attack action:

Flank 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Damage 1d6 + 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + 2 + (6) = 9


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

"Does anyone know what he threw or cast to disintegrate Dorian?"

It was time to send Argon into a berserker rage.

Wrathe considers his dwindling resources, and prepares to change stratagems, as the power of the attack that was launched against Dorian reminds him that his current success is more luck than anything.

He waits for his moment before launching his Grease spell (colour spray, Reflex vs. DC 17, Mana: 2/4, Conjuration 0/1, Shadow 0/1) at the assassin's feet.

Hopefully they could pile atop of him, hold him down and subdue him, as the man was too dangerous from afar.

At the very least it might increase Argon's effectiveness.

Though this moment was far from any type of merriment, practical jokes had been the norm, and a child with the ability to cast the Grease spell had made everyone well aware of the ability.

As he spoke then is as he speaks now, each time he had tricked someone to be subdued by the pull of gravity's embrace. In the Common tongue, "Beware, ice is everywhere!"

Wrathe sifts through everything he had ever read, comparing it to the projectile that was thrown at the ex-Dhampir, wondering if he had ever seen reference to such an item or spell.

Knowledge: Arcana: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (17) + 13 = 30
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14


Male Dragonkin Cleric/Wizard level 12

Snarling behind his cowl, Ssilax snatches a dart from the bandoleer under his robes. Trying to steady his breathing, the Theurge aims at the bastard priest. Argon and Dorian had both helped to train him with the few weapons Ssilax used. Both had said his aim was rather terrible.

Perhaps the blessing from Nethys would help.

Ranged attack + Blessing:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19. Damage:1d4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Silver Crusade

..^]

Ssilax, normally not too good at darts, throws a good one that hits a spot of flesh on the neck of the attacker.

Wrathe changes up his spells and magically layers a coat of grease upon the attackers hard boots. He opens his pained eyes only to catch himself falling on the floor (he's now prone: A prone attacker has a –4 penalty on melee attack rolls and cannot use a ranged weapon (except for a crossbow). A prone defender gains a +4 bonus to Armor Class against ranged attacks, but takes a –4 penalty to AC against melee attacks.)

Reflex save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

(Argon and Dax up)


Male Argon Gestalt Slayer-Cleric 12

Argon hears Wrathe's words and a cold feeling comes over him. Dorian disintegrated? What does he mean by that, exactly?

"What do you mean, disintegrated?"

He redoubles his effort, drawing another falcata and going at the man with both. Since the man fell down, Argon need only chop down on him, like so much pork.

Attack: (Bless, flanking, TWF, Power Attack), miss% on a 1, and damage: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 251d2 ⇒ 21d6 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Attack: (Bless, flanking, TWF, Power Attack), miss% on a 1, and damage: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 141d2 ⇒ 21d6 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

and this is why falcata:

Crit confirm and damage: Bless, flanking, TWF, Power Attack, Bless, and damage: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 92d6 + 12 ⇒ (5, 1) + 12 = 18

if only he had confirmed.

Silver Crusade

..^]

Argon slices into the pork, who shouts out in pain and confusion as one of two falcatas cut through his fine armor.

Wrathe has never heard of a disintegration ball, but that's what it seemed to be. Presumably useful because a non-caster could use it and get the powerful effect of the Disintegrate spell.


Female Wyrmtouched Gestalt Unchained Rogue Sorcerer level 12

Daxniss arrests her forward lunge, attempting to stab the nutter on the floor. She brings her blade down, trying to place it into something vital.

attack action:

Melee 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Damage 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Sneak attack damage if applicable 1d6 ⇒ 5


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

There is a catch in his voice as he speaks.

"I mean disintegrated. Dorian is dead. This bastard threw something and Dorian was reduced to a pile of dust and clothing."

Wrathe's cold eyes watch the man struggle on the ground, "Listen closely Argon, if he tries to stand feel free to hole both of his lungs."

Silver Crusade

..^]

The man, weakened by colors, magic missiles, falcatas and grease, succumbs to Daxniss' surgical strike which promises to relieve him of a vital organ or two. He lies shaking and bleeding in the hall, unable to rise or even reach for his shortsword. He is slowly dying.


Xthian Shadowcaster Conjurer / Gestalt Druid

"Please search him, and relieve him of his weaponry. If he has more death orbs, I would like to know about them before they are airborne."

Perception (searching for weaponry): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Wrathe moves forward, ruses on his mind, and places the end of Dainoth's staff on the man's throat. There is little pressure there, but enough to get the man's attention.

In Undercommon and again in the Common tongue he asks the man, "Tell us a story of what brings you here, how you found us, and who sent you."

There is a coldness to the wizard's entire demeanour, which none of the group have ever seen before.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Sense Motive (sensing a ruse and lies in any responses): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

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