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Turn 2 Tracker
Pulsing Stalactite
Krowe
Faolan
Bor
Bazsil
Faolan dents the creature that attacked him and it hisses at him in pain. It drops back towards him and attacks again.
The other drops on Krowe's devil, taking a slash from its claw.
It wraps itself around the waxy thing, inflicting grievous damage as it does so. The Calistrean hug does not work as well however.
DEFENSE
AC 15, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+2 Dex, +2 natural, +1 size)
hp 15 (2d10+4)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +0
OFFENSE
Speed 20 ft., fly 30 ft. (poor)
Melee slam +3 (1d4+4 plus grab)
Special Attacks constrict (1d4+4), grab (any size)
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 5th)
1/day—darkness
7/15 9/15
Round: 3, Initiative: 19
Fort +5, Reflex +5, Will +3
Rear Row
Opponent: None
- - -
Conditions: None
Equipped: Shield
Silver Blanch, Cold Iron Bolts: 20/20
Melee: Attack: BAB +3, Str +4 (flurry -2, power attack -1) Damage: Str +4 (power attack +2, shield bash +1)
Ranged: Attack: BAB +3, Dex +2 Damage: +0(+4)
Martial Flexibility (move): 3/4
Shield Bearer (free, adjacent ally +2 AC (trait)): 1/1
Ironfang Survivor (free, roll twice vs goblinoid (intimidate, sense motive, stealth): 1/1
Faolan laughs as he’s missed! He brings his shield to bear on the nasty brute before he has a chance to fly away again.
Round 2, Init 7
Charge.
Attack!
"Thanks, Bor. That's twice you've helped me this day," Bazsil says, totally not keeping track unless he is. Feeling invigorated, charges the stalagjerk.
to hit;
slashing damage.
And nearly trips over his own feet as he does.
[ dice]1d20+5+2[/dice] to hit;
[ dice]1d10+6+1[/dice] slashing damage.
HP: 16/25
AC: 16 (4 armor, 2 dex) - 2 (Rage) = 14
Spells: 1/4 used (CLW*0, Ident*0, Vanish*0, LibCom*0)
Words: 2/9 used
Ironfangedness: 0/1 used
Smite: not used
Grit: not used
Panache: are you kidding me?
Ki: not used
Rage: maybe later
[spoiler=Bazsil's Deep Song of Wrath] Bazsil has activated his bard like song. You can opt in or opt out. Your choice...but you get all or none of the below. Bazsil will be opting in because that's what he does. You get:
1) +2 morale bonus to Strength and Constitution
2) +1 morale bonus on Will saving throws
3) –1 penalty to AC.
4) You cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration. [ /spoiler]
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Bor rushes in to try and throw off the second Pulsing Stalactite that is not affected by his debilitating touch.
HP 27/29
AC 21 (23 vs Goblinoids)
Spells Used: (1st)Lesser Confusion; CLW (2nd) Mirror Image; Communal Prot from Evil
Vision of Madness 6/8
Sudden Shift 8/8
CPE 2/2
Ironfang Survivor (free, roll twice vs goblinoid (intimidate, sense motive, stealth): 1/1
The devil ignores its wounds. Existing at the bottom of the fiendish pecking, order the lemure has had all spark of self awareness ripped from it. It continues tearing at the dead stalactite from pure reflex.
”Everyone ok?” Krowe asks as he finishes loading his crossbow.
”If we press on, let... it..” He gesture to the devil, ”.. go first.”
Faolan goes and picks up his spare shield, placing it back on his back. "I'm fine, ready to go - particularly while we have someone to go first." he gestures to the thing who is their temporary ally.
He moves on to the next chamber - unsure what might befall them next!
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This winding tunnel leads down until it abruptly ends in a wide pit descending into the darkness. Rungs have been carved into the side of the pit, and the lemure crawls down them at your urging, dancing lights descending with it so you can see.
The pit goes down 40 feet and the room below seems to open up. When the lemure is not immediately attacked you move down. This vast chamber seems more finished than the upper chambers. Walls of smooth masonry stones intersect a mirrorlike marble floor. A statue of a twisting, insectile form stands in the center of the large chamber, as if a beetle-like god were flowing like water. Reliefs along alcoves to the east and west depict rough-hewn reptilian forms gathered around a step pyramid. Rough purple gems have been wedged into the reliefs, forming starburst patterns. The southern wall has partially collapsed, cracking the floor and blocking what was once the only hall leading out of the room behind tons of stone and rubble.
Moving into a defensive circle you see a door to the east and west. They appear to have been cunningly concealed once but the years have made them obvious.
Looking to the south all but Krowe notice that the air has a strange shimmering look, and you suddenly realize there is a large cube of gelatinous material slowly inching towards you!
When the party comes to the pit, Faolan sets his grapple and lowers his knotted rope. "This place just keeps going doesn't it."
He's startled by the gelatinous mass, though not unduly worried. He can, presumably, outrun it. He points it out to Krowe, backs off, and draws a flask of alchemy fire. "This is my only one of these, should we try to burn it?"
Bazsil moves back 20' from the cube, happy that others are seeing the same thing he is. He draws his bow as he moves, knocking an arrow.
"This is a perfect time to avoid getting to close, I think."
to hit;
damage.
”Close to what?”
”Grussurg!” Krowe summons the fiendish monster again, sending it to block the cube.
Round 1, Game Cube
Bazsil fires again, then backs up some more.
to hit;
damage.
He watches his arrows plunk in and around the goo. He squints to see blood or hurt or whatever.
"Are my arrows even doing anything?"
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The cube shakes as the claws and arrows impact against it. It moves more quickly than you thought possible and runs over the lemure.
DEFENSE
AC 4, touch 4, flat-footed 4 (–5 Dex, –1 size)
hp 50 (4d8+32)
Fort +9, Ref –4, Will –4
Immune electricity, ooze traits
OFFENSE
Speed 15 ft.
Melee slam +2 (1d6 plus 1d6 acid)
Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
Special Attacks engulf, paralysis
23/50
The devil freezes up and is engulfed! It is the most peaceful moment of its awful life.
Round 2, Game Cube
Bazsil watches the lemure get engulfed and cringes, not wishing that fate. He fires again, then backs up some more.
to hit;
damage.
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Backing up further Bor drops his shield and draws a small light crossbow, placing a bolt in the notch. "I can't tell! Just keep shooting it!" His voice shakes as he has a hard time keeping an eye on the shimmering translucent ooze.
HP 27/29
AC 21 (23 vs Goblinoids)
Spells Used: (1st)Lesser Confusion; CLW (2nd) Mirror Image; Communal Prot from Evil
Vision of Madness 6/8
Sudden Shift 8/8
CPE 2/2
Ironfang Survivor (free, roll twice vs goblinoid (intimidate, sense motive, stealth): 1/1
Round: 1, Initiative: 6
Fort +5, Reflex +5, Will +3
Rear Row
Opponent: None
- - -
Conditions: None
Equipped: Crossbow
Silver Blanch, Cold Iron Bolts: 20/20
Melee: Attack: BAB +3, Str +4 (flurry -2, power attack -1) Damage: Str +4 (power attack +2, shield bash +1)
Ranged: Attack: BAB +3, Dex +2 Damage: +0(+4)
Martial Flexibility (move): 3/4
Shield Bearer (free, adjacent ally +2 AC (trait)): 1/1
Ironfang Survivor (free, roll twice vs goblinoid (intimidate, sense motive, stealth): 1/1
Faolan throws his shield to his back (move) and drops back further himself, drawing his crossbow as he does so. ”So we shoot it? Will that devil slow it down do you think?”
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The cube quivers closer as you shoot at it, the lemure frozen inside a harbinger of your fate. You wonder if your butt will look at good inside what appears to be mobile gelatin when part of the cube forms a blobby appendage to swing at Bazsil, the one who has hurt it the most.
All of you are backed against the wall and prepared to sell yourselves dearly.
DEFENSE
AC 4, touch 4, flat-footed 4 (–5 Dex, –1 size)
hp 50 (4d8+32)
Fort +9, Ref –4, Will –4
Immune electricity, ooze traits
OFFENSE
Speed 15 ft.
Melee slam +2 (1d6 plus 1d6 acid)
Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
Special Attacks engulf, paralysis
19/50
Round: 2, Initiative: 6
Fort +5, Reflex +5, Will +3
Rear Row
Opponent: None
- - -
Conditions: None
Equipped: Crossbow
Silver Blanch, Cold Iron Bolts: 20/20
Melee: Attack: BAB +3, Str +4 (flurry -2, power attack -1) Damage: Str +4 (power attack +2, shield bash +1)
Ranged: Attack: BAB +3, Dex +2 Damage: +0(+4)
Martial Flexibility (move): 3/4
Shield Bearer (free, adjacent ally +2 AC (trait)): 1/1
Ironfang Survivor (free, roll twice vs goblinoid (intimidate, sense motive, stealth): 1/1
If we were that close to the wall, Faolan would have kept his shield and not drawn his crossbow. He’d have still moved back though giving the archers another round to do their thing.
Faolan, this round, turns and attacks the giant mass!
Round 3, Init 7
Draw sword, drop bow.
Slash with all his might.
Fort
to hit;
slashing damage.
[ dice]1d20+5+2[/dice] to hit;
[ dice]1d10+6+1[/dice] slashing damage.
HP: 16/25
AC: 16 (4 armor, 2 dex) - 2 (Rage) = 14
Spells: 1/4 used (CLW*0, Ident*0, Vanish*0, LibCom*0)
Words: 2/9 used
Ironfangedness: 0/1 used
Smite: not used
Grit: not used
Panache: are you kidding me?
Ki: not used
Rage: maybe later
[spoiler=Bazsil's Deep Song of Wrath] Bazsil has activated his bard like song. You can opt in or opt out. Your choice...but you get all or none of the below. Bazsil will be opting in because that's what he does. You get:
1) +2 morale bonus to Strength and Constitution
2) +1 morale bonus on Will saving throws
3) –1 penalty to AC.
4) You cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration. [ /spoiler]
Bazsil's face burns where the pod struck him, however, whatever ill effect didn't faze him overly.
He moves his body and feet away from the acidic ooze, looking to see if any of his arrows are recoverable, but probably not.
"That was pretty scary," Bazsil rumbles in a deep voice, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "After what it did to Krowe's...thing...I could have been next."
Bazsil takes a knee to recover his wits.
Faolan watches the devil slowly eaten away by the acid, "Seems to me they don't likely come down this way that often I think." he shrugs, "Let's see what else we can find down here, shall we?"
He gives Bazsil a moment to recover before patting him on the back. "You made it with just a scratch, be joyous we've survived another of life's little tests!" he laughs and looks to the next chamber.
Bazsil smiles at Bor as he recovers enough to grab one of the potions of CLW and downs it. "No, I got it. I'll be fine. That ooze...uh...it's not a good touch at all."
CLW
He gets to his feet and takes a drink of water to wash away the taste of the potion. Looking around, he walks to the eastern secret door. He examines it, then opens it for Faolan to continue.
Perception
Krowe tried to command his summoned creature to check the eastern door, but the fiend just lays there, staring st the ceiling.
”Something is wrong with this... thing. Let’s check the room for a minute and see if it recovers. If not, I’ll summon something else.”
Bazsil takes his time to search the place with Krowe.
”A very bad place.” Krowe replies to Bor.
”Just wait and see, berk. Maybe we’ll send you there.”
Looking uncomfortable, he adds, ”Fear not. They only do what I command.”
Faolan helps the others search the room as well.
He listens to Krowe and Bor talking. Summoning is weird. Is this a vacation for those summoned, or a penalty? Neither makes a lot of sense really... Faolan gets lost in thought for a moment before shaking loose and heading over to Bazsil in the east. When the door is opened, he heads in, shield held high.
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There are 16 gems in the wall, each worth 10 gp—all that remains of the glittering mosaics. The cube still holds a few undigested remains:
masterwork longsword
gold holy symbol of Iomedae worth 100 gp
a breastplate emblazoned with a bronze angel
two potions of bull’s strength
You move through the door to the east. Tiny, intricate carvings line the walls of this room, forming great columns of text. Much of it has cracked and crumbled, and the entire southern wall is fractured, with a yawning cavern beyond. The room itself is 20 by 30 feet and there is an old firepit an alcove to the east.
The text records a history lavishly describing ascent from the darkness deep below and cowering from the great torch in the daytime sky above.
There is another section that describes opening a puzzle door to pray at the feet of something called the Excavator. This section reads "grandmother, in seeking the Excavator, turned her eyes to the Stone, and to the Steel, and finally to Woe.”
Faolan helps get the things out of the cube and carries what the others don't want. He peers at the markings on the wall, "Anybody able to read this lot?"
He checks the old fire pit and alcove. If he finds nothing, he's ready to check out the cavern a bit. Not too far, just to see if it's connected to something deeper. "How deep do you suppose this goes?"
”I believe it may go very deep indeed.” Krowe says as he reads the wall carvings. ”Perhaps even to the Darklands.” He points to the symbols. ”This is aklo. Troglodytes speak a form of draconic, so I do not believe they were the first residents that built these lower chambers.”
Krowe goes on to translate the rest of the carvings, then looks to the mercs. ”I don’t suppose any of you might have heard of this Excavator being? I assume it to be a god of the first ones.”
Bazsil puts away the longsword and armor and holy symbol, offering the potions to Faolan. He shakes his head. "I can't read it. No knows what the smelly lizardpeople would be writing."
He looks there as well, taking his time with Detect Magic.
Perception
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Bor does a quick scan of the equipment before joining the others in the eastern chamber. . "Who knows on this excavator. These beasts are a small step up from goblins. They could be worshiping a shiny shovel for all we know."
Bor grabs ahold of a pebble. The light on his shield leaps across to the rock as it illuminates. He tosses the rock as hard as he can down the cavern to see if it strikes a wall.
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You detect no further magic in the room and see nothing of interest in the firepit.
It's possible the Excavator could be one of the mythic xiomorns, an ancient race of builders. You do not have a detailed knowledge of history but have heard of a pre-historic race of crystal workers during your study of the arcane and planes.
***
The tunnel opens into a long, irregular cavern running north to south. Streaks of purple crystal run along one wall. To the east, the room descends down at a steep angle to a tunnel. A low, ethereal moan rises from the cold depths, and a barricade built of masonry blocks and rudely quarried chunks of stone partially blocks the wide, low tunnel to the south.
You find nothing else in the cavern beyond this room and push to the south.
***
A partial collapse mars the symmetry of this large, circular chamber. Crude carvings of reptilian heads and bodies cover the wall, snaking around empty sockets in the stone walls. A thin, bluish mist hovers in the air, swirling gently. The mist rises about halfway up the walls, like a diaphanous ocean.
A strange creature comes bounding towards you as you enter the room, it appears to be a crystalline scorpion.
This is a crysmal, a small elemental creature that craves only gemstones. They are not violent beings.
”Hold your attacks, I don’t think this creature is hostile.” Krowe informs the mercs. ”This is a type of elemental called a crysmal. They crave gems.”
Faolan very nearly squashes the scorpion as soon as he sees it - until he hears Krowe. "You sure it's not poisonous?" he asks uneasily as it crawls over his shoulder.
He tries to keep an eye on it as it moves about, ready to strike at a moments notice no doubt.
Bazsil wonders about feeding gems to a creature that could be used to buy actual food to keep the rebels alive, but says nothing about it. This certainly was a novel experience, after all, a creature that wasn’t trying to kill or drug them.
”Well? What now? We’re not going down to the Darklands, are we? Maybe that’s not the answer,” Bazsil asks the party. ”Maybe we should lock that door shut.”
"Yeah." Faolan mumbles as the creature moves off to eat a gem. "He's cute enough, but if he's not poisonous he's no good in a fight. Best we keep moving. Give him another for the road, and let's go."
He turns to Bazsil agreeing, "No, I don't think we need to go to the Darklands. Doesn't sound like a pleasant place, and we've got enough of our own trouble right here. We nail that door shut and hope whatever comes is too weak to knock it down." he snorts at the thought of anything too weak to knock down that door, but it's all they had.
He peers at the mist, "This natural do you think?" he shrugs, being unable to make much sense of it and is ready to head to the other secret door.
Faolan suggests the southern double doors. He looks for traps before touching the door.
He then readies his shield, grabs a door knob, and opens it when the group is ready!