DM CH-P's CoT: The Bastards of Erebus (Inactive)

Game Master Feral

Xerath will try his spell again..

SR check with Piercing Rod: 1d20 + 11 + 4 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 11 + 4 + 5 = 32

Boneshatter DC 21: 11d6 ⇒ (3, 6, 4, 5, 1, 2, 2, 1, 5, 6, 6) = 41

Yahirma SR check: 1d20 + 12 + 2 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 12 + 2 + 3 = 33

Will vs magic jar: 1d20 + 14 - 4 ⇒ (9) + 14 - 4 = 19

In its weakened state, as well as being further afflicted by the talisman's presence, Liebdaga is unable to withstand Yahirma's soul-capturing magic. The pit fiend suddenly throws its arms up in the air, forming an "X" pattern in a signal of spiritwalker-success.

***

Xerath can avoid casting boneshatter against the Yahirma-fiend, if he wants.

***

It's almost cruel to release him from 70 years of imprisonment, only to stuff him into a jar 12 seconds later :)

I suppose I could. :)

Round 8

The largely magically illiterate Appario keeps fighting, unsure what is going on.

Spring Attack, ending T17. Cast Litany of the Righteous.

1d20 + 31 ⇒ (17) + 31 = 48 to hit;
1d10 + 9 + 14 + 14 + 1d6 + 2d6 ⇒ (2) + 9 + 14 + 14 + (2) + (2, 5) = 48 damage.

Pot Crit:
1d20 + 31 ⇒ (12) + 31 = 43 to hit;
1d10 + 9 + 14 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 9 + 14 + 14 = 47 more damage.

Litany damage:
1d10 + 9 + 14 + 14 + 1d6 + 2d6 ⇒ (5) + 9 + 14 + 14 + (3) + (6, 4) = 55 damage.

Sorry, not sure if he knows to stop...it's another matter entirely if he will stop even if he knew.

Edit: -1 to hit, -3 total damage via Str loss.

Yahirma explained the plan here.

Oops. I stand corrected. In my limited defense, I wouldn't have thought it would actually have worked if I had remembered. Call it forgetful bloodlust. One yell should calm him. What happens with the devil in a jar now?

Ugh...what happened...a...word...? Got to pull myself together...

Liebdaga pauses for a moment, smacking his lips and cracking his jaw as if drowsy and trying to get his bearings. "I am now bound by the will of Lo Lulu and her mortal representative, Yahirma. My flesh and scales, my muscle and horn—they are the Gardeners' instruments for half a day. As this body's energy has fueled Westcrown's corruption for decades, today its strength shall serve us in cleansing the taint that threatens this fair city!" Liebdaga stands and staggers, clearly uncomfortable with the size and proportions of his body. "When the hour nears for my service to end, it shall be necessary for you to strike me down—permanently—otherwise the true fiend Liebdaga will be freed."

The devil pauses again, clears its throat, and speaks once more. "I am new to this form," he admits, "And it seems I am inclined to speak more loudly than is necessary. I shall try to mind my volume."

As his head clears, Derek looks in marvel at the towering creature of physical and magical prowess.
Eh...there MUST be a legend in the making here, you do not bind an archduke of hell and not have a legend form around it...

As the awe slowly ebbs it gives way to trepidation, worry that not striking Liebdaga down now is dangerous.
Being around a creature like him, even one bound might be corrupting, and it is incredibly dangerous...

"Eh...then maybe you can also enlighten us on the best way to strike you down once the time comes?"

Throw you into the biggest vat of holy water we can find?
Better not say that out loud, Appario would faint from the cost in silver alone...

The Beast recovers from the buffeting wave of negative force only to find the gift of battle denied to him. The massive bovine snorts and shakes his head in disdain, but restrains himself for now. He thunders his disapproval.

"WE MUST SEEK OUT BATTLE. IF NOT WITH THIS DARK SPIRIT, THEN WITH A GREATER FOE."

Xerath blinks his eyes at Pit-Yahirma. "Are you sure you can control the full power of this creature?"

Liebdaga inexpertly scratches his chin in thought at Derek's question. "Ah, weapons and magic that channel holy power are capable of dealing the killing blow. Appario's sword should be sufficient," he explains before his eyes wide in sheepish embarrassment that just looks silly on a pit fiend's face. "Errr…I know I said that about the cage and was wrong, but this time I'm certain."

The fiend withers and cringes under the spirit bovine's bellowing before responding with less fury.

"The horse can be a dangerous and worthy combatant, but there is also no shame in breaking the horse and taming it enough to ride. This husk is my steed for now, then it shall be shattered so that its taint no longer troubles the world."

To Xerath's question, Liebdaga nods enthusiastically as his left wing accidentally snaps out and sends broken fragments of the adamantine cage flying across the room. "I…am sufficiently in control, though I cannot tap into Liebdaga's natural magic. On the other hand, I should be able to use my own." He flexes experimentally a few times before adding, "This form just takes a little getting used to."

"What? Shouldn't we just kill it and be done? What if it's released from our control? It could destroy Westcrown! It's not worth the risk. We should smite it back to a lemure!"

"Errr…" The devil thinks for a moment. "You are correct that this fiend could destroy Westcrown if left uncontrolled; however, the only ways in which it could escape Yahirma's control are by waiting too long or by her being forcibly exorcised from this body. Fortunately, we have ample time before the former is an issue, and we are fortunate that Yahirma is among the most capable exorcists for miles around. She who can face an exorcist and win is often an exorcist herself.

"Nonetheless, I can see this idea makes you uneasy," the controlled fiend observes. "I fully intend to lie down and accept the bite of the executioner's blade before Liebdaga is free, but even this is only a verbal agreement. Shall we take a moment to draft a proper contract? We have a proper notary only a few rooms away," it adds, referencing the Kolyarut nearby.

My, how my claws have grown! How does a pit fiend even write with these talons?

Liebdaga waits for a moment, tasting the words he just proposed. With a sigh, he admits, "I suppose there are variables Yahirma cannot account for in all of this, and for all her certainty, the multiverse and all its hidden factors are beyond the absolute understanding of any one mortal." With a claw it idly scratches its arm, drawing blood from a shallow wound that heals over almost immediately.

Absolutely fascinating. If only I could study this form for longer, I might--

"I suppose I see two other options, one of which Appario recently proposed; I can submit myself to Abadar's justice and allow his servant's blade to end this infernal scion forever. With Liebdaga's destruction, he will be no more than idle soulstuff forever cut off from the villainous intelligence and cruel potency that has shaken the core of Hell for centuries or more.

"The other alternative would be to do a similar act but on the streets of Westcrown. Perhaps Derek and Appario might act as one, being the better known spokespeople for the Gardeners. If ever there were a dramatic opportunity to unite the citizens behind the organization you founded, this could be it.

"As a spiritual advisor, Yahirma has offered her counsel, and she abides by the will of its leaders," Liebdaga concludes with a bow.

Yahirma's generally okay with any decision. Liebdaga thinks all of this is BS, but he hardly gets a vote in the matter.

Round 8

Appario nods at Derek, then the Beast, holding Extortion high, ready and waiting for the moment to end this threat forever. When Yahirmadaga indicates she/it is ready, Appario attacks.

Cast Litany of Righteousness.

1d20 + 31 ⇒ (7) + 31 = 38 to hit;
1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (3) + 23 + (5, 6) + (1) = 38 damage.
LoR:1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (2) + 23 + (5, 3) + (4) = 37 damage.

Haste:
1d20 + 31 ⇒ (3) + 31 = 34 to hit;
1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 23 + (4, 6) + (3) = 42 damage.
LoR:1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 23 + (3, 5) + (6) = 43 damage.

Iteratives:
1d20 + 26 ⇒ (9) + 26 = 35 to hit;
1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (4) + 23 + (2, 1) + (3) = 33 damage.
LoR:1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + 23 + (4, 3) + (1) = 32 damage.

1d20 + 21 ⇒ (19) + 21 = 40 to hit;
1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (8) + 23 + (6, 5) + (2) = 44 damage.
LoR:1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (10) + 23 + (3, 6) + (1) = 43 damage.

He/it’s effectively helpless. You could just CdG him.

Liebdaga staggers from the first blow. "I can lie down and—" Appario's second attack lands. "—ow…just stick out—AHH!—my neck to—" strike after strike hit, sending Liebdaga to one knee. "Neck: Cut please," the devil whimpers.

That's right. Dying hurts. What a lovely lesson to remember.

Liebdaga is open to coup de grace, though two more rounds like that would effectively end him anyway.

All of those hit, and hurt the devilish body quite thoroughly, but not quite as much as advertised.. Since the body is currently inhabited by a Neutral spirit, and not an Evil one :)

Given free neck, Appario tries for the coup:

2d10 + 18 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (10, 2) + 18 + (2, 6) + (4) = 42 damage.

* * *

He/it’s effectively helpless. You could just CdG him.

I could, but I said I was going to give others a chance to join in if they so chose.

All of those hit, and hurt the devilish body quite thoroughly, but not quite as much as advertised.. Since the body is currently inhabited by a Neutral spirit, and not an Evil one :)

Hmmm...Yahirma isn't evil!?

Hmmm...Yahirma isn't evil!?

Erm...*cough* I suppose it could be called into question at times...

Fortitude save: 1d20 + 16 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 16 + 2 = 25

Despite centuries of hellish experience and thick scales to put any mortal gorget to shame, the possessed Liebdaga is unable to resist Appario's final strike.

Slicing through the devil's neck, Appario watches its body fall dead to the ground, while Yahirma's soul is shunted back into her own body. Mere moments later, Appario sees the neckwound almost grow completely closed; the devil's chest rising as if it draws breath once more.

***

Up next: The PCs.

Appario gives Yahirma a *look*.

What the Abyss?

Round 11

Appario shrugs and gets to smiting.

Smite again, if necessary.

1d20 + 31 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 31 + 4 = 48 to hit; (+4 for prone)
1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (2) + 23 + (2, 3) + (5) = 35 damage.

Haste:
1d20 + 31 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 31 + 4 = 45 to hit;
1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 23 + (4, 4) + (2) = 38 damage.

Iteratives:
1d20 + 26 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 26 + 4 = 39 to hit;
1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (7) + 23 + (1, 5) + (6) = 42 damage.

1d20 + 21 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 21 + 4 = 31 to hit;
1d10 + 23 + 2d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (9) + 23 + (1, 2) + (5) = 40 damage.

Swinging again and again, Appario feels each of his strikes being a killing blow, yet between each strike the fresh wound nearly closes, and the devil draws a breath of life time and time again.

Yet, after his fourth and final strike, cutting the neck clean off with holy finality, the breath stops short. A ghostly form rises, letting out a terrible, soul-shattering shriek of frustration and rage that threatens to rip the sanity from all those who hear it, before dissipating.

DC 24 Will to avoid Charisma damage: 2d6 ⇒ (3, 4) = 7

Will: 1d20 + 14 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 14 + 2 = 30

The Beast bellows in defiance at the devil's death cry.

Will: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (2) + 19 = 21

Xerath is stunned as he is almost struck catatonic by the unexpected roar.

I'm at 1 charisma, NBD.

1d20 + 14 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 14 + 2 = 36 Will Save

Appario hacks, then hacks some more, then a bit more until the head is completely removed from the body.

"Time for you to return to Hell," Appario says still huffing and puffing from the exertion. He breathes and watches for a bit longer, making sure the devil remains deaddead. When he finally calms down, he will remove a sack from his haversack and place the head within.

Then, like a true hero, he will look for loot.

"Is that it? Are we done?"

Yahirma shudders as her spirit re-enters her body, only to be greeted by a psychic scream.

Will save: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 12 + 2 = 15

Fortune reroll

Will save: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 12 + 2 = 24

"That..." she sputters while holding her head, "That was not quite what I expected. The painful lessons of the first posession?" She performs a quick ritual on Xerath.

Lesser restoration for Xerath: 1d4 ⇒ 2
Lesser restoration for Xerath: 1d4 ⇒ 2

Will save: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

Derek claps his hands over his ears, screaming in pain and frustration as he feel the malevolent and ancient hate tear into his very personality, shredding important facets and leaving him less than the man he had been his whole life.

Falling to his knees, he cannot stop a long deep soul wracking sob from escaping his lips.

Then, like a true hero, he will look for loot.

The long-imprisoned devil carries no loot, unless you count the shards of broken cage.

Yahirma blinks a few times to consider what just happened. "I know it's not normally my line, but…is it over?" She casts a simple spell to look for residual auras (detect magic). "Perhaps we should check with the metal notary to confirm Liebdaga's death."

Yahirma detects several dim magical auras in the chamber, beyond the multitude of auras surrounding herself and her companions.

"Nothing in here so strong that it would reflect a fiend's presence. Appario? Is there anything left here that would upset your sensibilities? More evil to smite?"

This might suck.

Appario Detects Evil, bracing his mind for pain upon Yahirma's suggestion.

* * *

Appario will gather the treasures (Liebdaga's head and as much adamantine as he can carry) and stow them appropriately.

"Westcrown is safe, yes? I can get back to my bride to be?"

Unable to bear the disappointment any longer, the Beast disappointing into formless smoke and shadow.

Maddok staggers as he regains his senses.

"It is over. Let's return to the surface and make sure word of this great victory reaches the people of Westcrown", the big Shoanti says as he fishes through the shards of sundered skyiron.

Appario packs up stuff and returns to Westcrown proper.

"These scars...will take some time to heal...I hope we will be able to rest for a little while.
We're heroes of a high calibre now, so we certainly deserve it, but then again, in the stories, heroes seldom get such rewards."

Strange…it seems like there would have been more fanfare—not that I should be complaining for what should really be more the others' show.

Yahirma takes care to watch for anything valuable on the way out, such as collecting the alchemical glassware and reagents from the nearby room.

Appario Detects Evil, bracing his mind for pain upon Yahirma's suggestion.

Appario detects dim evil where the devil fell, but he also detects strong evil all around, as if the entire contraption itself is infused with evil.

On the way out:

From one corner of the library, Livia timidly asks "Is it gone?"

***

The inevitable has vanished without a trace.

***

The four lamia matriarchs still sit around their table, arguing over this and that, when you come through that chamber.

***

There's still sounds of splashing from the underground sinkhole-lake.

***

Where the lich shade was slain, you find the broken agathion Jezeletrix, cradling the destroyed undead's necromantic dust in her lap while pouring another type of dust onto it from a cracked-open black stone. "Why doesn't it work?! Why doesn't it work??" she wails at you when you approach.

***

In the tiefling caves, you find six decapitated and horrible scarred tiefling bodies. Their heads are missing, as is the succubus Joriavah herself.

***

The lightning-chamber is nearly dormant, with only a few errant and easily-avoided arcs of lightning passing through it from time to time.

Outside:

When you finally return outside, you find Westcrown a changed city. Gone are the five immense, raging pillars of fire, but in their place it seems like chaos has erupted. All over the city flames and smokeplumes bear witness of burning buildings, while the streets echo with sounds of fighting. Here and there, you can see citizens running, clutching whatever they can carry, many of them apparently panicked. In the sky far above, someone rides a flaming, winged horse, almost as were he a general on a battlefield.

Awaiting your emergence is Chammady Drovenge, eyes piercing Appario. "I'm the world to you, you said, and yet you stay away all night!" She crosses her arms over her chest. "I thought you would return with all possible haste to oversee my revisions.." She lets her indignation fade away, turning the conversation to more pressing matters. "My brother hasn't been lazy tonight. By the time the pillars had all winked out, fires had begun blossoming all through Westcrown. Then devils appeared in the streets, and Lictor Shokneir came flying in with the remains of his forces."

"Your - Gardeners? - have been doing what they can all night, as have the dottari and the few hellknights. They're all exhausted by now, of course, and they were woefully shorthanded even to begin with. I don't believe this chaos will end until my brother decides it's time for his moment."

Maddok sucks in a pained breath. He'd hoped some sembalance of sanity would return to the city with the Pit Fiend's defeat but it appeared that was far from the case. The big Shoanti greets Appario's would-be bride with a nod and gestures back the way they came.

"Liebdaga is slain. Westcrown should be safe, but as long as your brother and his Council of Thieves exist, that will never be. What is his game? What did he hope to accomplish while the city burned?"

"Possibly destroy it and rebuild it in his own image. Sounds like the egomaniacal thing to do."

"No rest for the wicked they say, but clearly, the virtuous do not benefit from much more restive circumstances.
Well, mental scars or not, it sounds like we will have to continue without delay..."

"I'm the world to you, you said, and yet you stay away all night!"

She's the world to me? Maybe, I'll have to see her assets first.

Appario moves up to speak with Chammady.

"My dear betrothed co-signer, I was merely making sure your soul was safe. There was a fiend below that I had to deal with so that we might have a city for you to rule one day," Appario sweettalks.

"Now, what was this about your brother? Is he out? What a nice surprise. Shall we go kill him together?" Appario asks, as if it would be the most non-monetary romantic thing he could think of.

Derek just stares at Apparios back, mouth hanging so open one could expect he was trying to lure in flies.
After several seconds, he performs a face palm and stares in mute consternation at the others, looking for any kind of support before his brain melts altogether.

Yahirma lingers near the disturbed agathion on the way out as she tries to resuscitate the broken undead creature.

A philosopher's stone can bring the dead back to life, but could it restore sanity to a tortured soul? she wonders.
Spellcraft both to ponder an alternative application of a minor artifact's power and to remember how to use such a stone properly: 1d20 + 19 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 19 + 2 = 27
Bleh…6 is no good. Using fortune:
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 19 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 19 + 2 = 31

If Yahirma thinks it likely that one could use a philosopher's stone's elixir as a psychological cure-all (and assuming she knows how such an elixir is supposed to operate):

It would not be right to bring back an evil spellcaster, but a creature spun from an outer plane's very heartbeat should not be bound to eternal torment.

"The stone's substance alone is not enough. It behaves like a wish-elixir, but only if mixed with the right fluid," she informs the outsider. "Derek, might I use one of your magical brews? One for healing? Any will do."

If the agathion is willing to surrender the dust or perform the procedure itself, she mixes the philosophical reagent with the potion and gives it a shake. "The fluid is ready. Drink it, pause for several seconds, then speak your wish aloud."

Bluff to convince the agathion that medicine is actually wish-serum: 1d20 + 25 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 25 + 2 = 46

Appario tries to help Yahirma and the agathion in any way possible.

"Sure, you're drinking stone, but it's *magic* stone. And that makes the medicine go down."

1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 9 + 2 = 24 Diplomacy to Aid

Derek, more than eager to try and help the poor tortured soul, will kneel in front of her again, hoping that his mind can withstand the pain long enough to prove his goodwill once again.

"Remember us? Remember me? We helped you once, and we may be able to do so again...please...trust me, even if you must share your pain with me, I shall bear it if it will help you."

After giving Yahirma one of his potions of course.