For the Glory of Icathia: Escape From Skorzeny Manor [Completed] (Inactive)

Game Master Signore di Fortuna

"There are some among my faith that can shape the dark lord's will into food capable of sustaining mortal flesh, but no, we will have to suffer for now. A man can miss a meal without dying. I trust your kind is no different."

I imagined the scene as ancient ruins but is this an occupied city?

Imagine an abandoned Atlantis made for giants. That's pretty much it.

Gotcha.

"On the morrow we'll explore these ruins and find you something to sate your hunger."

Ylrhea continues along the ledge until she spots a suitable opening in a building, caused from ages of decay. She hops the small gap from the ledge into the building. "It's clear."

Drago kept eyes open for anything they might be able to eat.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

Drago finds a nest of stirges lurking in a dark corner of the building. Unless they are edible, the dhampir comes up short on food.

Stirges might be edible. Are they closer to birds or Mosquitos?

Bestiary says they are closer to mammals than insects. Just not sure what part of 'em you grill up for a porterhouse.

I'd imagine you roast them rotisserie style.

"It appears that there is a nest of Stirges close by. I wouldn't recommend trying to get those, they drain blood rather efficiently."

Mortimus considers the problem.

"The dead have no need of their blood..."

"Hmmmm, good point. Do you mind?"

Mortimus nods and gestures to his handful of undead.

"See if you can slay one of those creatures", he instructs his minions.

"Given their size, you may want to get more than one."

Mortimus rolls his eyes.

"...as many as you can..."

Mortimus' ghoul servant approaches the nest and four tiny creatures emerge. The ghoul decides to express some reservations. "This would hardly make a meal for anyone."

Initiative:

Drago: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Ylrhea: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Mortimus & Friends: 1d20 ⇒ 17
Grawfir: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Stirges: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Ylrhea moves a little closer, but readies her dagger in case a stirge approaches her, which two of them do. The others attack the ghoul, probably starved enough to not care.

Ylrhea's readied attack: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21; Damage: 1d3 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Her blade cuts into one of the stirges and she utters an arcane word, her dagger flashing green.

Con. Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 1

One of the stirges fall and the others attack.

S1: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25; Attached; 1 CON damage
Disease <10%: 1d100 ⇒ 28; safe
S2: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9; miss
S3: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21; Attached

One of the stirges attaches to Ylrhea while another attaches to the ghoul.

Round 1: Ylrhea, Stirges, Mortimus, Grawfir, Drago

Mortimus approaches on the rear of the forward ghoul while pulling the chain from around his waist.

He touches his undead minion with a simple spell before gesturing for the others to join him.

Guidance.

Zombie to A4. Ghoul 2 to D4. Mortimus to B5.

Ghoul 1 vs S1: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Ghoul 1 vs S1: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Ghoul 1 vs S1: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Ghoul 2 vs S2: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

The ghouls squish the stirges without hassle. Grawfir moves up to strike the last one with his morningstar.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13; miss

Round 1: Ylrhea, Stirges, Mortimus, Grawfir, Drago

Drago raised his hand, took aim and said, "Shochraos." With that he threw a handful of sparks at the remaining Stirge.

Range Touch Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

No way.

It is not your day, is it?

Ylrhea moves forward and slashes at the remaining stirge.

Attack: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15; miss

The stirge decides to attack Grawfir as he looks a bit meatier than the gnome.

Attack: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13; Attached, 1 con damage

Round 2: Ylrhea, Stirge, Mortimus, Grawfir, Drago

Mortimus whips his length of chain overhead before bringing it down on the final stirge.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
Damage: 2d4 + 5 ⇒ (4, 2) + 5 = 11

Mortimus finishes the last stirge and it falls to the ground.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Grawfir grunts. "I guess it's better than nothing though."

Ylrhea picks one up off the ground. "So how are we going to cook these?"

Drago reached into a pouch on his belt and produced a small twig with some kind substance on the end. "Do we have anything to burn?"

"Not up here, looks like," Ylrhea says. "I'll take a look down those stairs."

She departs and returns moments later with several planks of wood. "There were some barrels down there with food no less...but it's all spoiled. I wish we had some fresh water."

And I forgot...

10% disease chance for Grawfir: 1d100 ⇒ 20; safe

"Through the Dark Prince, I can provide water on the morrow. You will have to suffer in the meantime", Mort says with little compassion.

"What's with you and suffering?" Ylrhea groans. "You're not one of those Kuthites, are you?"

-Posted with Wayfinder

Mortimus stands up tall.

"Yes. I am. You would do well to remember that."

This time, Ylrhea rolls her eyes. "I didn't think Zon Kuthon took in necromancers."

-Posted with Wayfinder

"Zon Kuthon takes in all that understand pain and it's finer points", Mortimus says with a false smile. "To some, undead servitude is the ultimate suffering - an eternity denied the sweet release of death."

"You seem more self-assured than other Kuthites I've met," the gnome clarifies. "I have yet to see any submissiveness in you or your actions."

-Posted with Wayfinder

"I only act out of necessity", Mortimus explains. "I go under the lash often when my survival isn't in jeopardy. How do you know so much about my faith?"

"One of the thirteen necromancers is a Kuthite. Vencious..." the gnome trails off. "My comrades were taken by him a couple of years ago for his 'experiments'. I was sold to Lady Skorzeny for some reason several months ago. Anyhow, Vencious was a typical Kuthite until he decided to pursue a different path."

-Posted with Wayfinder

Is any of that familiar to Mortimus?

"What path is that?"

You might have heard of Vencious, but that's about it.

"He started dealing with devils. Perhaps Zon Kuthon couldn't fulfill his needs."

-Posted with Wayfinder

Mortimus glares at the halfling, "More likely he was a coward who faltered when confronted with true suffering."

The gnome shrugs. "Whatever his reasons, he speaks of kytons and their perfection now. Apparently his aim is to obtain one as a slave or another experiment."

-Posted with Wayfinder

Mortimus ponders the information, "There is a certain appeal to such creatures... but if he left Zon Kuthon's side, he's a fool who will die a fool's death."

The Sorcerer found something rough to strike the Tindertwig on and ignited the fire, all the while listening to the scarred man and the gnome. Perhaps I can get some more insight to one of the other Necromancers. He thought.

Ylrhea says nothing as Grawfir cooks up the stirges. The bugbear's skill is surprising as he passes out pieces of the cooked pests.

-Posted with Wayfinder

"You can have my share Grawfir", Mortimus says. "The meat will keep you strong and the pain of hunger might give me new insight into the Dark Prince's will."

Grawfir doesn't argue, but Ylrhea starts to say something. She suddenly changes her mind and keeps quiet, picking a corner for her sleeping spot.

-Posted with Wayfinder

Sitting by the fire, Drago asks the man who freed him, "In all of this excitement, I don't believe I got your name."

"Mortimus", the cleric says warily.

"The sounds of your screams filled those halls for days. i thought for certain you would be dead by the time I was prepared to escape. What did you do to earn the mistress's wrath?"

"I was born." Drago replied while staring into the flames.

"Why'd she hate you so much?" Ylrhea asks, propriety aside. "Just because you weren't a full-blooded vampire?"

"That, and the fact that I killed her once may be a factor."

Ylrhea raises an eyebrow, finishing off the last of her stirge. "Well, we better get some sleep. We'll get you out of here, Drago..."

The gnome squirms into a comfortable position and sleeps. Grawfir decides to stay up and take watch.

Drago fell asleep close to the fire.

He awoke back in his cell, with Aliethia standing before him. "Did you honestly think you could escape that easily?" She rhetorically asked. Slowly she shook her head as she approached, "You are mine, now and always." The undead elf reached down and started gentley caressing him, about to start another one of her sessions.

The Damphir snapped awake back in the camp, but he wasn't sure if he was actually awake. What if I'm still chained?

Drago awakes to see Grawfir standing over the gnome, one hand over her mouth and one furiously trying to tear her clothing away. His pants hang below his knees, his manhood swollen and pulsing with desire. Ylrhea attempts to scream futilely.

"Shut yer hole," Grawfir whispers. "It'll be over in a moment. You look like you could use a good f!~& anyway. You might like it."

Drago sat up and screamed, "Scivarn!"

Ear=Piercing Scream: 1d6 ⇒ 5

Will vs DC 15 or be dazed for 1 round and take above full damage.