Fish's Serpent's Skull's PBP Intermission

Game Master Human



While Loather has a bad web connection, we're going to be doing a play-by-post using this web forum. Paizo has several good tools for PBP, including embedded dice rolling ({dice=Great.}1d20+1{/dice} looks like Great.: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5 if you swap out the curly brackets for square brackets). It also has an out of character format, which is what this paragraph is in (the tag is {ooc} but with the curls replaced with squares). The forum also has a bunch of images to use as avatars, though it unfortunately does not allow you to upload your own. Also unfortunately, you can't embed images, so I'll just link relevant ones. I will be arranging maps on Roll20 but if Loather can't access those I'll also link a screenshot here before her turn.

More Paizo info:
Yeah, there are spoilers. Use {spoiler=stuff}things{/spoiler} to open and close one. You can't nest them, unfortunately.

Also, you can make in-character dialogue most noticeable using quotation marks and {b}{/b} tags. "This is Gelik talking," Jask said.

The easiest way to quote someone is to just click reply, but you can also copy text and go like {quote=someone}text{/quote}.

Also, there's {bigger} and {smaller} tags but honestly I never use them?

This guide has more info, though some of it obviously doesn't apply to us.

I'm gonna get the actual re-introduction game post up in an hour or so but for now, here is a thread to bookmark or whatever.


1 pm, 27 Arodus, 4710 AR. Calm, no clouds, dangerous heat.

After defeating the band of rats, you continue on through the forest, climbing up a hill that overlooks the surrounding territory. Through the trees, you can see the immense banyan of Aycenia's grove to the south, the plateaus and hills to the east, and the island chain that Aycenia spoke of to the north. The Silent Isle stands starkly gray behind the green of the smaller island before it. Looking towards the west, Athelstan can see towering clouds moving quickly in from the horizon. The wind is likely going to pick up over the next day, and it will rain a LOT this afternoon. Judging by last night's phase of the moon, he's also fairly certain that the tide will be highest about 5 pm.

Around you, the jungle is quiet, midday heat and humidity seeming to have shut up even the noisiest birds. Sweat pools on the dwarves' skin and soaks their clothing, unable to evaporate; the heat is draining their energy. Athelstan suspects it will stay this hot for another couple hours. Gelik also looks drained, but he still comes up with a new joke occasionally. "Hey Chester, what did the tree wear to the beach? Swimming trunks!"

Jask is a quieter, carrying his painted face-symbol ready in one hand. Once Athelstan gives his forecast, the priest offers, "Does anyone need protection from the heat? Thanks to Nethys, I have a spell called reverse heat that will make you feel cold at night and warm in the day - though, really, I don't ever need to cast it at night around here."

As you descend from the hill, Athelstan and Notmerlen spot what look like the spars of another shipwreck wedged between a pair of rocks about five hundred feet out from shore, to the west. Across the bay, you can faintly make out the Dimorphodragon Heights and Mount Shiv M. To the north, everyone can see a stretch of surf punctuated by seaweed- and mussel-studded rocks. This band of relatively shallow water, which has small islets of what look like dry land, leads up to the smallish green island to the north.

Heat saving throws: If you like, you may move at half speed only and make a Survival check to get a bonus (Jask and Gelik will also attempt, but only if you are all moving slowly). If you move at half speed, you will not arrive at the bottom of the hill/edge of island until 6 pm. If you are wearing heavy clothing or armor, you take a -4 on the following Fortitude save. Gleep does not need to make a save as he is a native of the island. Anyone who takes Jask up on his spell offer also need not worry about these saves.

DC 15 Fortitude, first hour:
Athelstan: take 1d4 ⇒ 1 nonlethal damage and become fatigued.
Chester: take 1d4 ⇒ 1 nonlethal damage and become fatigued.
Notmerlen: take 1d4 ⇒ 1 nonlethal damage and become fatigued.

DC 16 Fortitude, second hour:
Athelstan: take 1d4 ⇒ 1 nonlethal and become fatigued if you were not already.
Chester: take 1d4 ⇒ 2 nonlethal and become fatigued if you were not already.
Notmerlen: take 1d4 ⇒ 4 nonlethal and become fatigued if you were not already.

Weather forecast:
12 noon Calm Clear Danger
01:00:00 PM Windy Clear Danger
02:00:00 PM Windy Partly cloudy Danger
03:00:00 PM Windy Downpour Caution
04:00:00 PM Windy Downpour None
05:00:00 PM Windy Downpour None
06:00:00 PM Windy Partly cloudy None
07:00:00 PM Windy Partly cloudy None

Crossing the gap: If you moved at normal speed, you can wade between rocks and get to the green isle without trouble. If you decided to move at half speed and make Survival checks to get a bonus against the heat, you must either wait an hour or succeed on a DC 20 Swim check to get across. Failure indicates that you get knocked down by the waves and scrape your knee or bump your head, taking 1d4 nonlethal damage before you manage to right yourself.

Roll20; map if roll20 doesn't work.


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

Heat saving throws:

Survival check Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
1st Fortitude: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
2nd Fortitude: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Notmerlen, assessing the situation, comes to the conclusion that moving fast would simply tire the group faster, and attempts to have the group move at a slower pace to ensure minimal exhaustion. He also suggests to Jask to provide his charge, Athelstan, with the magical protection, since he would be in need of it the most.

'We should probably ignore the ship for now. We've got enough troubles on our hands than to go plundering, and frankly, the tide would make it near impossible to reach that thing anyway. We'll continue onto the Silent Island.'

Notmerlen elects to go to the Silent Island, but is willing to hear arguments for other options, should there be suggested a wiser course of action.


1 pm, 27 Arodus, 4710 AR. Windy, no clouds, dangerous heat.

Jask sizes Athelstan up and nods. "Nethys, grant this man protection from nature's whims." At this, the priest touches Athelstan's hand, and a little jolt of cold rushes through the dwarf's body. As the rest of you hike through the stifling jungle, dripping sweat and breathing hard, Athelstan seems entirely unaffected. To him, the sun feels no worse than it does this time of year back home - pleasantly warming, rather than heatstroke-causing.

3 pm. Windy, downpour, still fairly hot.

As you hike, the clouds Athelstan spotted drift overhead. It begins to rain. And rain. The downpour continues for three hours, letting up only intermittently and never fully stopping. The forest comes alive with the sound of millions of droplets pattering, making it hard to see and hear. Your faces are drenched by the wind-driven droplets, though it's nowhere near cold enough to be unpleasant. Over the next three hours, you become completely soaked, but the heavy heat has entirely vanished.

6 pm. Windy, partly cloudy, cool.

You arrive at the sandy shore at nightfall, which is about when the rain lets up. The causeway seems to be completely underwater, now, so you'll have to swim if you want to get to get to the green islet (and from there, the Silent Isle) as soon as possible. Otherwise, you will have to wait about an hour for the tide to lower enough for safe crossing. It is almost pitch black out, save for the glowing shapes sometimes visible in the waves along the shore.

As the sun sets to the west, Athelstan feels a bit sick. He's avoided the heat, but that hasn't seemed to stop a recurrence of fever and an ache in his limbs that seems to deaden his movements. Gelik groans, "Ugh, I feel like my head's on fire. Jask, you got anything to cure a headache?" (Unfortunately, Jask has nothing.)

Wind: The weather gives a -1 penalty to Perception checks and a -1 penalty to attacks with ranged projectile weapons.

Athelstan: You are under the effects of endure elements until 1 pm tomorrow. You suffer 4 points of Strength damage and 4 points of Intelligence damage.

Notmerlen: With that roll, you can grant the Fortitude save bonus to three other people - I'll assume you go with Chester, Jask, and Gelik, since Gleep and now Athelstan now don't need to make saves. If you are going to try to continue your trek to the Silent Isle without waiting, give me that Swim check.


Polyhedral Organic Compound (pH 2) Living Affront to Evolution 3 (AC 11| Fort +4 Ref +1 Will +2| Init +1| HP 9/31)

Alongside Chester slides the greenish block of chemicals calling itself "Gleep". Gleep is glad everyone else is moving slower, as this allows Gleep to move at full speed without inconvenience. Gleep burns a very straight trail of sizzling slime and blackened grass as Gleep considers recent events.

A new master, at long last. No more dissolving old bones for pickings of marrow. No more cold hours cleaning dungeons like an occasionally murderous janitor. No more roaming the island hunting lizards and hoping not to run into Bloody Flaps.

And no more cleaning up mucus for the snotgoblin, Gleep reflects, a gas bubble slowly floating to the surface within Gleep. It pops, releasing an acrid, rat-reminiscent odor. Gleep suppresses a sigh Gleep has no capacity to voice and slides a few inches away from the party to spare them the scent. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Gleep's life is changing, and Gleep Gleepself isn't sure where it's leading. But change is never a bad thing. And if it means regular rats to consume, that's good enough for Gleep.

Gleep pauses, considering the potential crossroads. Gleep doesn't miss the Silent Island overmuch, but Gleep's companions seem very keen to go there, and far be it from Gleep to object. All the same, there may well be great dangers at the island, and better food can be found on this one. It is not an issue to casually resolve without clear and thorough discourse.

*Gleep.*


Polyhedral Organic Compound (pH 2) Living Affront to Evolution 3 (AC 11| Fort +4 Ref +1 Will +2| Init +1| HP 9/31)

Ninjaed.

Gleep gleeps in gleepstress distress as the downpour cleans away Gleep's protective coating of slime—that slime is required to protect the rest of Gleep's entirely identically-composited slime from outside dangers. But Gleep seems more annoyed than legitimately threatened.

Gleep does seem to enjoy the cool weather that follows, however, and begins to move at a brisk slide along the grass that is completely identical to how he was moving before. There is not much much variety in Gleep's walkcycle.


1 pm, 27 Arodus, 4710 AR. Windy, no clouds, dangerous heat.

Gelik Survival: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (10) - 1 = 9 Gelik Fortitude 1 (Jask Survival): 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 + 2 = 8 Gelik nonlethal: 1d4 ⇒ 1 Gelik Fortitude 2 (Jask Survival): 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 + 2 = 23
Jask Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17 Jask Fortitude 1 (Survival): 1d20 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 1 + 2 = 7 Jask nonlethal: 1d4 ⇒ 2 Jask Fortitude 2 (Survival): 1d20 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 1 + 2 = 9 Jask nonlethal: 1d4 ⇒ 1

Now and then, Gelik will wander away from where the dwarves are cutting a path and pick up some flower, insect, or frog. He calls the frog a "Weird dog," and starts laughing to himself, but seems to be sweating heavily despite his energy. You notice Jask reminding Gelik not to overexert himself, and the gnome seems to take his advice - walking more slowly, generally, though he still wanders off on occasion. When the clouds finally arrive, Gelik is looking only a little worse for wear from the hike. Jask, however, is breathing heavily, and has actually stopped sweating.

Castaway status sheet.


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

'Great. Now everyone is dying of heatstroke...by Kols, why must everything be so bloody...Somebody get some lights up and we'll try waiting out the tide. I don't want to take our chances with these waters with everyone as tired as they are. Also, where the hell did we put those potions of lesser restoration, I'm not holding out so well...'

'And could someone please hurry up and toss that cube some food so it can stop...whatever the hell it's doing?'

Notmerlen makes a survival check to find the best resting spot on the beach that would give the party plenty of forewarning of approaching danger, as well as a perception check to see if he can finally work out what those bloody lights are...

Skill Checks

Spoiler:
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11


Female Human (garundi) Sorcerer (Imperial) lv. 1

Athelstan, now un-worried by the scorching Sargavan heat, casts Cure Light Wounds on himself to heal the damage he took from the heat. He keeps he battleaxe at the ready, and keeps an eye on the jungle for anything else that might waylay them.

Athelstan cure light wounds: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Athelstan Perception check: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12


7 pm, 27 Arodus, 4710 AR. Windy, partly cloudy, cool.

Jask lays another hand on his holy symbol, muttering something like, "Piece of sun," and the device glows brightly. It begins to emit white light about the same intensity as a torch.

Gelik watches Jask, then pulls a grain of sand from his pocket. He whispers, "You light up my life," and the grain begins to glow much like Jask's symbol (though its light is reddish). Gelik then drops the grain onto Gleep's top face. Jask and Gelik continue casting light spells until Notmerlen comes back.

Notmerlen trods up and down the shoreline, looking for shelter. After nearly half an hour, the best he can find is a bushy tree that might deflect a bit of the wind. The eerie greenish radiance in the waves unsettles him, but after watching it for a good while he can't figure out what exactly is causing it.

Athelstan sees the break in the clouds closing - it's probably going to start raining again soon. He sees some bats flitting through the forest canopy, and hears a faint, low whistling sound coming from the sea to the west, but nothing seems hostile.

About the same time as Notmerlen returns to the group, discouraged by his findings, the dwarves can see the high tide has lowered enough that the group should be able to wade across the causeway to the small island without needing to swim.

Wind: 15‐20mph. ‐1 to ranged projectile weapons and Perception. If you want to sleep, you must make a DC 10 Fortitude save. Failure indicates that your rest is disrupted by the wind making noise and unwelcomely flapping your clothing and hair, and become fatigued (or exhausted, if you were already fatigued). You may still gain the other benefits of a complete 8-hour rest.

Glowing waves: You can attempt a Knowledge (nature) and/or Perception check to tell what's going on here. Think I already gave you this chance but I'm also pretty sure you've leveled up since then. Note the -1 penalty on Perception from the wind.

Notmerlen: You, Thornton, and Athelstan finished off the remaining lesser restoration potions weeks ago, though I'd note that they wouldn't actually help with the nonlethal damage. You can't find a good shelter with that roll, sadly.

Weather forecast:
07:00:00 PM Windy Partly cloudy None
08:00:00 PM Windy Downpour None
09:00:00 PM Windy Downpour None
10:00:00 PM Windy Downpour None
11:00:00 PM Windy Partly cloudy None
Midnight Strong winds Overcast None
01:00:00 AM Strong winds Overcast None
02:00:00 AM Strong winds Overcast None
03:00:00 AM Strong winds Overcast None
04:00:00 AM Strong winds Overcast None
05:00:00 AM Strong winds Overcast None
06:00:00 AM Strong winds Overcast None
07:00:00 AM Strong winds Overcast None
08:00:00 AM Strong winds Overcast None
09:00:00 AM Windy Overcast None
10:00:00 AM Windy Overcast None
11:00:00 AM Windy Overcast Caution
12 noon Windy Overcast Caution
01:00:00 PM Windy Overcast Caution


Female Human (garundi) Sorcerer (Imperial) lv. 1

Fortitude save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Athelstan peers out across the jungle, squinting into the wind, trying to see just what in Torag's name is going on with the water.
Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 4 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 4 - 1 = 19


Female Human (garundi) Sorcerer (Imperial) lv. 1

Posted a bit before I should have, whoops. Depending on when Athelstan takes his shift on watch, those two checks should probably be switched around.


Polyhedral Organic Compound (pH 2) Living Affront to Evolution 3 (AC 11| Fort +4 Ref +1 Will +2| Init +1| HP 9/31)

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Gleep isn't terribly attentive during Gleep's watch, as Gleep's found part of a dead jungle goat hallway stuck in its burrow. Lacking hands, Gleep spends about an hour weakly tugging at the creature, trying to extract it.

Gelik wrote:
(though its light is reddish)

PROOF OF HIS EVIL.


7 pm, 27 Arodus, 4710 AR. Windy, partly cloudy, cool.

Jask spots Chester grimacing from old rat wounds and touches her hand as well, saying, "Dzhjtau ezu." You recognize the language as Osiriani, but can't parse the words. As Jask speaks these words, Chester feels a tingling, almost burning sensation spread through her body. Her wounds and most (or all) of her exhaustion fade. Gelik also goes around casting a spell of drying on everyone (except Gleep), though it takes several minutes per person.

Watching the glowing masses in the surf for a while, Athelstan doesn't see any more of the distinctly humanoid shapes in the water. He ponders how Aycenia is seen as an evil spirit by the cannibals, but is actually a kind of nature sprite, and makes a connection - the radiance comes from nature, not undeath. Or at least, not just undeath. Some merchants he dined with back in Corentyn had discussed glowing waves, and though he wasn't paying much attention at the time, he's pretty sure one of them said the light was caused by phosphorescent algae and plankton. Apparently, the germs "store light during the day and release it at night."

The six of you collect underneath Notmerlen's shabby-looking tree and try to get some rest. Someone takes the first watch, standing vigil for about an hour before you are all woken by a dull roaring sound and a sensation of submersion. Fortunately, the sea hasn't risen to where you camped - it's just begun to rain very heavily. In minutes, Gelik's efforts are undone, and you are all soaked to the bone. The rain continues for three miserable hours, and it's not until it stops that anyone is able to sleep.

11 pm. Windy, partly cloudy, cool.

Near midnight, the rain finally breaks off, and rest becomes possible once again.

Midnight, 28 Arodus, 4710 AR. Strong winds, overcast, cool.

Unfortunately, the wind picks up just an hour after the rain stops, and the billowing gusts tear right through your now-soaked bedrolls. It's possible to sleep, but uncomfortable.

At some point during Gleep's watch, Gelik wakens to do some nightly gnome ritual, and sees the cube struggling with the goat. "Whatcha got there?" he asks, ambling over.

9 am. Windy, overcast, cool.

A few hours after sunrise, the wind finally dies down, allowing those who sleep to sleep a bit better.

Chester: I forgot - you get to prepare new spells at sunset (we can assume you did so while Notmerlen was scouting). Here's your sheet if you're having trouble finding it. If you can't access it at all on phone then your relevant skills/bonuses so far are: Survival +3, Fortitude +6, Swim +2, Perception +4, Knowledge (nature) +1. You have three unused 1st-level spells if you want to turn any of them into cure light wounds. You also had an endure elements spell prepared, if you want to cast that at ~1 pm and help someone or yourself avoid the heat's effects.

Jask healing Chester: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Downpour and wind: 15-20 mph wind. ‐1 to ranged projectile weapons and -5 to Perception. Rest is impossible.

Group: Could I get someone to make up a watch schedule? If you don't care, I can just divide 12 hours up into 2-hour watches and randomly assign them.

Wind Fortitude saves: I'll take a single Fortitude save from each of you (excluding Athelstan, who's already rolled). If your rest at all coincides with time between midnight and 9 am (strong winds), the DC to avoid fatigue is DC 15. If you only rest between 7 and 8 pm, between 11 pm and midnight, and/or from 9 am onwards, the DC is only 10.
Athelstan has already beaten both DCs, and so will not be fatigued tomorrow. I will roll Jask and Gelik's saves once I know which watches they're taking.


Polyhedral Organic Compound (pH 2) Living Affront to Evolution 3 (AC 11| Fort +4 Ref +1 Will +2| Init +1| HP 9/31)

Gleep will watch for as long as people want. But his Perception is +3, so bear that in mind.

Fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9


Wind save revision: Actually, we'll just make it a flat DC 12 to avoid fatigue, regardless of when you rest. I was borrowing rules from another game and didn't stop to think how complicated they'd make this.


Settling the watch order with drawn straws, the group retires for the night. Gleep struggles with the jungle goat, later waking Athelstan with some gruesome gurgles right by the dwarf's ear. The businessman watches for a couple hours before waking his bodyguard.

Notmerlen watches the waves in the darkness - the swirling luminescence still transfixing, even with Athelstan's explanation. The ceaseless howl of the wind plays tricks on his mind, at some times sounding like screams, others making the branches clack together in the regular sound of footprints. He has convinced himself to ignore these sounds when suddenly, he hears heavy wingbeats overhead. They sound larger than the dimorphodons - much larger than the parrots and hawks he's seen on the island. But within seconds, the sound fades, and he is left only with the noise of the wind.

Later, he wakes Gelik, and returns to his rest. A couple hours after sunrise, Chester is woken by a tired-looking Jask. The Garundi cleric relates, "A beautiful sunrise, though those damn clouds block any light now. I've prepared my own spells, now."

During her watch, Chester watches the sky. She's pretty sure the wind will get bad again at night, though it will not again rain. After Chester's watch, Athelstan and Gelik reorganize their native magics, and the group should be ready for the day after some food.

Randomly selecting watch order. I'm assuming you don't bother setting someone to watch during the downpour, since everyone'll be awake anyways.
7-8 pm and 11-12 midnight A C G G J N: 1d6 ⇒ 4 Gleep, who heals 1 damage over the night. Gleep becomes fatigued.
12-2 am A C G J N: 1d5 ⇒ 1 Athelstan, who heals 1 point of Strength damage and 1 point of Intelligence damage over the night. He still has 3 Strength and 3 Intelligence damage.
2-4 am C G J N: 1d4 ⇒ 4 Notmerlen, who heals 6 nonlethal damage over the night. Notmerlen may be fatigued.
4-6 am C G J: 1d3 ⇒ 2 Gelik, who heals 1 nonlethal damage over the night. Gelik still has 2 Int damage.
6-8 am C J: 1d2 ⇒ 2 Jask, who heals 3 nonlethal damage over the night. Jask remains fatigued.
8-10 am Chester, who fully heals between Jask's spell and the full night's rest. Chester may be fatigued.

Gelik Fortitude vs wind: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13 Jask Fortitude vs wind: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

GM Screen:
1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (16) + 4 - 2 = 18 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (12) + 5 - 2 = 15

Chester: Ignore the heat saving throw above: Even if you fail both, you should still be healed by the rest. However, I'll need a saving throw to avoid fatigue from the wind. Notmerlen, I need one from you as well.

Group/KC: Mark off 5 pounds of food (assuming you provide repast for Gelik and Jask). After eating, will you cross over and head towards the grey isle?


Much later in our heroes' story . . .

Notmerlen, standing in front of the snake person mage Yarzoth, saw his remaining companions flee the temple. He heard the clang of the trap room, and the unintelligibly muffled shouts of Chester and Athelstan. He also heard Yarzoth angrily hiss something in Aklo. After another clang, the trap room stopped, but he heard his friends no longer.

He feels a wordless voice in his mind. "Attend me."

Yarzoth stands above the blood-red stone, holding a light-colored roll of parchment up to her eyes and squinting. She breaks back into the common tongue. "Your friends managed to destroy the skeletons before dying, it seems. Ah well. Like all slaves, they can be replaced." She looks at Notmerlen, then down at the shattered bones of one skeleton. Her next words are imprinted into the dwarve's mind. "You have permission to speak, by the way. The Azlanti fulfilled their true purpose this week. Ironic, isn't it - making undead out of themselves, only for those to be commanded by the rulers they refused. And even more ironic is that each time I lose a servant, new ones quickly offer themselves. Ydersius blesses me."


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

'I live to serve. It is my nature. It is my oath.'

Notmerlen keeps his face stoic, watching Yarzoth carefully. If it weren't for the magical domination of his mind that made him follow her orders, her attitudes aren't much different to the dawrves. Speaking of sun-reaching ancestors and the great dwarven gods who guided them to the surface. The nobles of home would give speeches like that to their guests. Show everyone else just how devoted they are to the dwarven ideals. Then speak ill of their peers and plot their downfall while they are not looking, but careless of a commoner standing in the room while they carry out their machinations.

Yarzoth speaks of a dead human race and lofty ambitions inspired by divine providence. She really isn't much different. She even speaks like nobility. And she too believes that her status, her power, assures her safety.

Notmerlen will show her how wrong she really is. He has bided his time before. Waited for the perfect opportunity. He has done so all his life. Leaving tip-offs to his previous employers rivals. Ensuring their schemes fall inexplicably apart with his absence.

He will have vengeance for what she has done. He can only hope his allies escaped, or that the camp will seek him out. If that does not work, he will have to take his chances with the mage alone.


The snake woman smiles again, showing her short fangs. "Oaths mean nothing, grubbing mole. The only thing that ensures your servant is yours is power. Ydersius gives me power, so I am his servant. My power lets me control servants of my own. Your previous master's mistake was in -"

Suddenly, Yarzoth's words are interrupted by a shaking sensation and a muffled burst of deafening thunder. A long grinding noise follows, echoing through the rock, before finally silencing.

Yarzoth's alien features seem to grimace before she recomposes herself. "Er. I've set the Tide Stone to go off every six hours now, to keep any survivors warded well away." She's clearly lying, and busies herself with the scroll she's holding.

"Never mind that. You, Notmerlen, could win some of Ydersius' favor if you serve me well. Among my people of old, those soft-skins who were the most perfect of form, of skill, and of love for their mistresses were elevated above the rest of their kind. They were introduced to mysteries, insight to improve their skills, and memorialized when their too-short lifetimes expired," Yarzoth tells the slayer. He's pretty sure that dying of old age was not actually the most common cause of death among the snake people's servants.

Yarzoth places the scroll in a case hanging from her belt. "It is humorous, though - I did not learn these traditions from other, living serpentfolk. The people I come from are degenerates, warring with each other in caverns deep below the continent you call Avistan. They are almost like disorganized soft-skin tribes, though still nobler than any pompous Chelaxian with a widow's peak claiming descent from the so-called 'Living God.' I alone of my generation had the mental clarity to find meaning in the inscriptions on our broken city. I had to wrest my people's history from the runes of Sverenagati, then Viperwall, and now again in a temple to some petty Azlanti demon." She gestures at the statue looming over her and the dwarf, then speaks again. "The hubris of it! They hacked off my people's carvings, then made their own in this hideous, overwrought style. I hope they really did die out."

"But they did leave their own carvings, and those are what I have used. Their simple, linear Azlanti was easy to decode, even with only a scanty modern dictionary. In only a few days, I will have finished copying everything down." She pauses, sending, "Ask me what I've discovered."


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

'What have you discovered?' The words come out in monotone, as though Notmerlen does not mean it. In reality, her words are beginning to get intriguing if only as insight on his captor. Particularly that she is somewhat unique among her kind.

Good, Notmerlen thinks. It will help me rest easier knowing putting you down is a significant kick to your people's collective ass.

He does ponder Yarzoth's words for a time. Much of what she said. Power is the means to ensure position. Servitude wroughts power, and via by this power one derives servants of their own. These are things that, for the longest time, Notmerlen has thought to be somewhat truthful. Though he saw it as more akin to power given via status, through privilege and authority, was how one obtains and maintains not just the power itself but the power over other people. Through commonality one could exercise their will. That is how the dwarves did it. That was how his family lost their status. But the mage's words are...quite troubling. He can't quite put his finger on why, but the idea of power shouldn't be taken and given through servitude. It is by right and commitment. It's...really more important how one uses the responsibility given to maintain commonality. Society even. What is a person if they hold no standards? What is a monarch with no holdings? What is a warrior without an oath? They are nothing. It is the system of commonality that anything holds structure, holds together the bonds of a people towards a common goal. Notmerlen holds his oaths above all else. It is the oath that gives him purpose and keeps him on the path to what he desires. And via his oath, others benefit as well. It really wasn't ever a matter of power at all! It was the purpose of it that mattered! What an oath serves to do than what it means. Power goes both ways. Yarzoth's god would be nothing if they had no followers, god or not. Maybe she should learn to remember that before speaking of servants...

Strange time to be thinking about this. Maybe a week or two on a dangerous, cannibal ridden island and being mind-controlled by a serpentfolk gets one thinking even in the most dire of times.

Wait, what on earth is that scroll? Notmerlen tries to snatch glances but realises it is in wizard-gibberish.


Make a Perception check.

Yarzoth descends the steps on the other side of the blood channel and approaches the large alcoves. Now that the heat of battle has passed, Notmerlen notices that on the floor of each alcove is a scattering of scrolls and paper, all covered in squiggling, clawed letters written in a red ink.

Suddenly, he feels something looking through his eyes, listening through his ears. Yarzoth is present in the sensory surface of his mind. She sends, "Your vision is clear even in darkness, is it not? So different from the humans who made this place, Yet they did not bother installing magical lighting. Anyway. Look at these carvings."

The carvings in this first alcove include several pictograms, but all text is graven in the dead language of Azlant. "Long ago, this island was an watchpost of the nation of Ydersius - the greatest, and first, empire to ever lay claim to the ancient continents. We reigned for millennia unopposed. But as soon as the Azlanti were lifted up by their dark, ocean-dwelling patrons, they began expanding. Our power was great, but they reproduced as quickly as the goats of this island, and they had new gods of stars and void and demons. To halt their growth, slaves of Ydersius established temples at strategic locations such as this, placing powerful magics that allowed the inhabitants to shatter the ships of our enemies and push back incursions. In the end, though, the outposts could not stop the relentless tide of humanity. They fought my god at his last redoubt, and our empire collapsed. Those surviving here must have been plagued by doubt and infighting, cut off from Ydersius as they were."

With a tapering claw, she points to one picture near the top of the carving. It shows a serpentfolk in smooth metal armor kneeling before a human with fangs, and a half-dozen serpentfolk in robes being beheaded. A lower carving depicts a humanoid with a tail being roasted over a fire. "This is what the cultists of Zura did to my kind. We were made chattel. Eaten. Some of us were converted to undead as you saw, though fortunately those were mostly of the aapoph-caste. Once they had their initial victory, the Azlanti established a compound for both serpentfolk and humans, for seven centuries farming them as humans now farm cattle. I am surprised they never found the other temple to Ydersius, which your must have encountered in your confused wanderings."

Looking away, the serpentfolk walks to the south and crosses the blood channel. "The tale of the Azlanti is boring, emblematic of their self-centered nature and their short-lived power. After their hero beheaded my god, she established the piddling village called Saventh-Yhi," she says, hissing the city's name out loud. "The faction that overran 'Smuggler's Shiv'" - here she uses a view from Red Mountain for the words "Smuggler's Shiv" - "was cast out of their city for worshiping their awful demon, or for plotting to convert the city to her worship, or for turning some civilians into undead. The reason for their expulsion doesn't matter so much as the fact that they left it and came here."

She again crosses the channel, moving to the northeastern alcove. "And that they planned to return." A strange map, showing something that looks like Garund but has considerably more land area, occupies the center position of this alcove. Several indentations are made in it, and marked with Azlanti script. "They believed that by performing some esoteric rituals, they would earn a powerful blessing from their ascended queen, and then march on Saventh-Yhi and turn it to vampirism. I have not worked out their plans yet - the date and coordinate systems they used are archaic, filled with discrepancies - but it seemed they set out for Saventh-Yhi shortly before Earthfall. Whether they succeeded or no, the city must still exist. And with it, the power key to reclaiming my people's rightful place." She points to one of the smaller dots. "This city, Tazion, is the next clue. I have almost decoded its location, but these idiotic solar measurements are hell to work with."

She pulls out the scroll she'd been fiddling with. "This math is likely beyond your ken, coming from below the earth?" Notmerlen can feel her probing his surface mind again, expecting an immediate response.

It would be Knowledge (geography), Survival, or Appraise to make sense of the maths.


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

Perception: 20 = 20
Knowledge (Geo.): 14 = 14

I forgot you could roll in the PBP so the rolls are in r20


As Notmerlen follows Yarzoth up around the altar, a hole in the ceiling catches his eye. It's only an inch or so wide, but its smooth sides and straight alignment strike him as hallmarks of deliberate construction. The hole seems to go up quite a ways before turning and heading southwest. The purpose of this hole is not immediately clear to him.

The purpose of Yarzoth's scroll is also not immediately clear to him. The numerals are Keleshite, a form he is only slightly less familiar with than the dwarven counting runes, but he can't make sense of the angle measurements and times listed. It doesn't help that Yarzoth has covered the parchment in weird, squiggling notes. "I use the human's number system for ease of conversion, as it is less dissimilar from Azlanti than it is from Aklo. Still, I sense your lack of comprehension. I figured such would be likely. You will suffice as a physical protector, and I will finish the calculations on my own."

The serpentfolk returns to her place by the altar, but sends Notmerlen the silent command, "Stay there. Close your eyes."


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

Notmerlen does as he is told, but parts one of his eyes just enough to see what she is doing.

Studied Target Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12 I think he's stared at her long enough for him to have justifiably studied her but if not reduce the check by 1.


I was assuming you studied her already yeah.

Make me a Sleight of Hand check. This use of the Sleight of Hand skill is not considered trained-only. You may take 10.

Notmerlen squints with one eye barely open, attempting to discern what secret is so important. He sees Yarzoth move to the overhanging statue, then suddenly disappear into mist. He can't tell where the mist is going.

Waiting on that check, then more will happen.


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

Sleight of Hand: 1d20 ⇒ 17


Yarzoth's last order resonates in his head, with the implied meaning that he must keep his eyes closed until told otherwise. From the lack of change in orders, it does not seem that she noticed his furtive glance.

After what seems like two minutes, Notmerlen hears Yarzoth's voice in his head again. It is clipped and impersonal, without her normal slithering consonants or really any vocal qualities whatsoever. She says, "You may open your eyes. I will permit you to carry out whatever ablutions you customarily perform, and to sleep should you wish."

When he opens his eyes for real, the dwarf sees no sign of Yarzoth or mist in the dark temple.


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

'How peculiar...'

Notmerlen takes some time to have a look about the room he is in before finally coming to the goop that was Gleep. Thinking, he finally appreciates exactly what the small cube did through his untimely demise. A shame, in all honesty, even if it was...a little weird.

He picks through the goop and retrieves some of the vials that were floating in Gleep's mass. These could come in handy.

Notmerlen pulls out the grog Aerys gave him, raises it in the air in a toast, and takes a swig. He doesn't feel that sleepy. He does look past the trap room to see if he can spy any bodies. If not, he wanders over to the alter to see about that strange opening. Also, where is all this blood coming from?


Notmerlen finds eleven unlabelled potions in the acidic sludge. He also notices that Gleep's gloop seems to be slowly draining down towards the channel of blood, which uninterrupted has continued to flow down through the bronze gate to the dark void on the eastern side of the temple.

You can make a Perception check for each potion to try to identify them.

He sees the shattered remains of a couple skeletons on the far side of the trap room. There are no flesh-bearing bodies visible.

Knowledge (engineering) untrained: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10

There is also not much to see standing below the strange opening in the ceiling. The reddish tuff - is that basaltic? - does seem to have been deliberately carved, or maybe shaped by magic. For all Notmerlen knows, the Azlanti had some ooze that ate through rock, which could have dissolved a hole in the stone like this. He's not sure of the purpose, either - maybe ventilation?

The dwarf then turns to investigate the red rock altar. It seems to be composed of a harder type of igneous rock, with small pores from which the blood leaks. It was not cut exactly square - there are deformations that make it slightly slanted. After examining every visible face of the altar, Notmerlen is unable to determine where the blood comes from (the bottom face, however, is inaccessible - the altar seems to be anchored to the platform). He does, however, find that the rock is not particularly strong; it is less hard than steel, certainly.

Incidentally, Notmerlen feels the strange connection to Yarzoth still ongoing. It is probably the only reason she has not realized he is free from her power, but it also means she could look through his senses at any moment. He might be able to obfuscate his thoughts at that time and show her an image of something he is supposed to be doing, but there is no guarantee.


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

Bottle checks:

Spoiler:
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26 Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19 Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9 Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17 Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

Notmerlen pictures in his head that he is presently cleaning his blades and sharpening them. He instead moves into the small alcove and places the 11 gathered bottles in the small alcove and uses some of Athelstans parchment to write the following message:

Spoiler:

'Athelstan,

If I live when you next see me, I may be free. If I am, I will speak the words 'My word is my oath'. For it is, my friend. I said long ago I would defend you. But I have failed in this task. I nearly cut you down, and have dishonoured my name.

But know that I have dishonored that for far longer, and have deceived you. For I followed a far greater oath. One of revenge for a wrong that robbed me of all of who I cared about. The name 'Wyvernmane' more than likely does not seem notable, for it is a false name.

My original name, my true name, is Dovret Thunderhorn, son of Gungrad Thunderhorn and Jakril Thunderhorn. You may recognize this name as one of your uncle's mines. This mine once belonged to my family, which they had held for generations. Until your uncle ran my father out of business, ruined his name through deception, and left us all destitute. Your uncle claimed the mine for himself, profiting from the abundance of gold within. My parents died of sickness and exposure. I survived by the sword, selling my skills to rich nobles to cut down their enemies and protect their assests and person through brutality. As a youth, I knew only killing and hunger, and anger at what happened to our once great name. My sister, wishing to help me but naive, joined a caravan as a guard, taking my family's ancestorial sword and our family armour. I had refused to touch them for fear of dishonouring their history with the evil I wrought. Maybe that was foolish...

The caravan was attacked by ogres. I will not go into what happened, for even as I write this the tears well and I wish I had been quicker to stop her going at all. But I joined the search party for the ogre family. They had taken the merchant's goods with whatever they could catch alive. We dived upon them, driving hooks into their flesh and pulling them to the ground. I rushed forward and drove an axe into the skull of the one that kept my families blade at it's side and wore my sister's poncho around it's neck like a damn bib. It had ruined the handle of the sword, and the armour had been crushed to useless metal. I took it's bones and made a new handle. I took the metal of the armour and made a gauntlet. And I vowed to my sister's spirit that I would bring down the one who did this. Destroy him like he had destroyed the Thunderhorns.

I would kill Half-Beard.

And I intended to do that through you, Athelstan. I had spent many years building the reputation of 'Notmerlen Wyvernmane'. Made myself as respectable a guard and mercernary as I could, while delightfully betraying my patrons where I could, selling their secrets to their enemies, and building connections with those less reputable to exploit when the time came to strike against Half-Beard. It only required one final piece of the puzzle to begin my revenge. I was approached by a recruiter of Half-Beard's as your personal guard. The perfect opportunity. On meeting you, I took you for a fool, easy to convince and easy to manipulate. And when the time came, I would slip a blade through your ribs, and send you piece by piece back to your uncle. Then I would come for him personally. But not before I destroyed everything of worth to your family name in Mwangi.

But that was some time ago. Over these months, my demeanor has changed. As has my opinion of you. You are a fool, Twice-Dropped, but you are someone I value as a friend. I doubt that means much after this confession, but it is the truth.

So I say this. If my words mean nothing to you, or you find I do not give you my sign of freedom. Shoot me dead. I will not prevent you from taking vengeance for my deception, and I cannot live while I am in the clutches of another. My will not my own.

But if you find mercy in your heart, and I still live or can be saved, then stay your arrow. If you can reconile with what your uncle has done, and empathize with my tale, but I lie dead at this mage's machinations, then please. Carry on my duty, and bring rest to my family's spirit and honor to it's name.

And take my blade, Josdrel. Carry it to the grave. Either as a sign of having overcome another of your enemies, a sign of your authority and respectability. Or to carry the legacy of Thunderhorn, one of those who broke through to the Sun so long ago, for yourself as the new owner of its history.

Take care. May your escape be safe and swift.

Dovret Thunderhorn, heir of the Thunderhorn family.'

He places it under the vials, and the vials in the corner less visible from the temple. He also leans Athelstan's instrument against the wall, also out of view.


Notmerlen identifies the pinkish, minty-smelling vials as 7 potions of cure light wounds. One potion has a similar smell, but a greyish color and an acerbic aftertaste - also cure light wounds, but of a different make. A third color of potion is unidentifiable, but has a black color and smells like fresh rain on dusty stone. A fourth is colored dark blue and smells like saltwater, and is a potion of bear's endurance. The last, of a green the same color as Gleep's slime, has a familiar but unrecognizable scent Notmerlen associates with the flora of Cheliax's forests, and is unidentifiable.

The slayer does not feel any watching presence in his head as he does this. It seems Yarzoth's attention is elsewhere.

Anything else you want to do for the next 9 hours? Otherwise, we'll timeskip.


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

I think that he will simply maybe try and get some rest. It has been a long day.


Notmerlen sleeps fitfully, waking often. In his last dream, he stands again in the snake temple on the other side of the island, and there is a tapping noise from the floor. Suddenly, the door explodes in fire, and the stone serpent that once clenched the portal in its jaws coils out of the wall and wraps itself around notmerlen. It squeezes him until he can't even think, until all semblance of self is gone, and he wakens for the last time. Yarzoth is standing over him.

"Have you completed your sleep?" she asks. "I will be working in here. You may feed yourself, then guard the door."

Notmerlen does not appear to have any water stores. He has gone without fresh water for something like 18 hours at this point.

More later if you don't want to do anything extra. The way I see it, we need to kill about 18 hours of in-game time to catch Notmerlen upto the presumed rescue party.


Male Dwarf Slayer 5 (AC 21, Fort +6 Reflex +6 Will +3, Intiat: +2, HP [64/68] DAM [4 Lethal] Status: Salty)

Mothing in Athelstan's pack? I think we were relying on the clerics for water.

As Notmerlen eats, he checks for his waterskin, and winces.

'I lack water.'

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