GM Cody's GD 6 In Wrath's Shadow (Inactive)

Game Master Codanous

Please dot in this gameplay when you are ready!

The slightly dazed looking guy with the tiny plant man riding on his shoulders like a bewildered toddler nods and looks around. "I think this is the place, Mister Bean. I don't see anyone else here yet though, we must be the first."

The small plant man makes a noise like a fart and giggles in a high pitched voice.

"I know, Bean. Eating plants truly is a genocide of epic proportions."

Dot.

Riptide snickers at the odd fella with the plant. After pondering things for a moment or two (or three or four...), one can literally see an idea come into his head and light up his face. The lumbering hulk of a half-orc hunches over and an odd-shaped hairy lump of skin crawls out from under his armor and onto his neck. It detaches itself and becomes something vaguely resembling a hedgehog.

"Dis is Sonic. I'm Riptide," the half-orc offers a very Toothy grin. "Sonic's da brains, I'm da brawn."
The fleshy hedgehog leans close to Riptide's ear and whispers something unintelligible to all but Riptide.
"Good question! Sonic wants to know which of you da brains..."

Rashaam recoils from the strange man and his mobile cancer. "Um, we're both quite smart, actually. I mean, reasonably so. I have to ask, should that be treated?" Rashaam points at the cancer-hog.

Kel stifles a laugh at the idea that either Rashaam or his familiar are the smart ones... the thought occurs to him as he does so that they might indeed be smarter than the image they project, so he says nothing, just watches for now.

"Antonella Schiavo."

A slender, young woman seemingly asleep on her feet in Tāḍāsana or Mountain Pose, opens her eyes and shares a knowing look with the Wizard of the Coast.

“Animals eat animals all the time, and nobody calls it genocide.”

Where Kel has the common sense to stay mum, Antonella has never been shy about publically supporting the 'right' cause. “Lions eat antelope. Dragons eat mountain goats. Orcs eat other orcs ... and dwarves. All perfectly natural."

"How do you and your master sustain yourselves, Mr Bean?"

The paladin tosses the long braid of her hair over her shoulder. "I'm a vegetarian - and proud of it. But don't worry."

"I'm not very hungry."

Rashaam recoils from the strange man and his mobile cancer. "Um, we're both quite smart, actually. I mean, reasonably so. I have to ask, should that be treated?" Rashaam points at the cancer-hog.

The fleshy hedgehog hurriedly whispers in Riptide's ear.

"Yes!" the half-orc bellows. One can't be sure if he's talking to the hedgehog or Rashaam, but then he turns and addresses the plant man directly. "Sonic should definitely be treated...treated with the atmost[sic] respect."

He then fist bumps with the hedgehog, even as the little critter seems to roll its eyes at Riptide's malapropism. "Good one," the half-orc whispers quite loudly.

Rashaam nods slowly at the half-orc and his mobile tumor. He turns back to Antonella and smiles. He covers Bean's ears and responds, "Bean eats fungus. With a great deal of glee, too. He's not the brightest fellow, but he's sweet and he helps me grow hallucinogenic mushrooms, so I can't complain much."

“He's not the brightest fellow, but he's sweet.”

“Well he certainly is that.”

Antonella moves an adoring hand closer to the leshy …

“He helps me grow hallucinogenic mushrooms.”

Before tearing it back, like the leafy cutie is the emissary of Jubilex, himself!

Must … not … judge …

The paladin forces herself to smile at both Rashaam and Riptide. “So nice to see two couples who can share recreational pursuits after spending all day at work in each other’s pockets.”

“Speaking of work …” Antonella attempts another line of conversation.

“Has anyone had a frightfully close call or had to kill someone interesting recently?”

"Not personally... I did get to observe my companions kill something called a pukwudgie recently... some sort of humanoid porcupine... nasty little creature. I just provided support and healing for that battle. It was touch and go for a while, but we prevailed."

Rashaam smiles when Antonella looks a little iffy on the mushrooms. "No! They're all-natural, 100% organic and definitely not evil. We're big into the local-sourced produce movement. Bean just gets a little touchy when the produce looks like him." He pulls out a tomato and offers it to anyone who wants to try it.

"Bean just gets a little touchy when the produce looks like him."

“Don’t we all.”

He pulls out a tomato and offers it to anyone who wants to try it.

Antonella grimaces as she declines politely. “Thank-you for the offer, Master Shakar. But I’m trying to cut back on the amount of companion in my diet.”

"I did get to observe … a pukwudgie recently... some sort of humanoid porcupine…"

“Axis Above, Good Kel! That sounds not unlike …” Antonella turns a startled face in Riptide and Sonic’s direction.

“I imagine you encountered fey during the course of your mission?”

The paladin shakes her head. “Raw emotion given form to mess with others – without a conscience! The power to hurt whomever they encounter, with apparent anonymity.”

“You might as well call them trolls.”

Riptide furrows his brow. "Riptide likes fighting with raw emotion, though he prefers to be conscious. Ma was an orc, Dad was a human (or at least that's what Ma always said). Neither of my parents were Nonimities." In a very loud aside to Sonic, Riptide asks "What's a non-nimity, anyway?"

He then turns a critical eye toward Antonella.
"You need to borrow a weapon, let me know."
He gestures to the numerous hilts and hafts sprouting from his belt and over either shoulder. Then he spies the amulet on her neck and breaks into a big grin, and relief washes over his face."So do you grow claws, too?"

“Not unless I am having a very bad day, Brother Riptide.”

Antonella smiles thinly. “I find others shun my company when I am in that kind of mood.”

“Riptide likes fighting with raw emotion.”

“Calm in battle makes me more efficient, Brother Riptide. Time slows down, giving me the chance to find the best option to help the party prevail.”

She makes an open gesture with her right hand. “Of course, I am not saying your way isn’t right. (Don’t you hate preachy paladins?)

“It just doesn’t work for me. But it doesn’t really matter, brother. You see, you can count on me to stand with you, lending my two fists to the fight or keeping you upright with healing.”

“Ma was an orc, Dad was a human.”

“The entities that merged to spawn my previous life were human.”

Antonella wears a thoughtful expression. “Though certainly not Nonimous to each other, I doubt much love flowed between them.”

The priestess *shrugs* “I find it interesting the number of people in a similar … parental position to ourselves that take up the life of a Pathfinder. Thank the Iro-shu, the Ten really don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Roused from sleep and herded aboard the Winking Wyvern, the party sails urgently for Rivenrake Island and the ruins of Xin-Bakrakhan, ancient capital of the Thassilonian Runelord of Wrath.

A note from Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch informs the group that a Society-funded dig team has uncovered a totally intact temple that appears to be associated with the goddess Lissala, buried for 10,000 years.

Given the fresh revelations that this long-thought-dead cult is thriving and allied with the Aspis Consortium, it’s a truly wonderful find, providing an unprecedented opportunity to gain knowledge of this forgotten faith. Even if the site turns out to not be dedicated to Lissala, learning more about the faiths and practices of ancient Thassilon always provides an abundance of knowledge. Often the items they use in their rituals lead to clues about the cults.

By now the work crew has finished clearing the site—the time to explore its secrets is at hand. The Society has no exclusive contract to the site, and Aspis Consortium agents scour the countryside seeking such ripe targets, so time is of the essence. Archaeologists Halla Beusophis and Kovo Murse can answer questions when the group arrives, and a fellow Pathfinder ranger, Riemme Batelle, is already on the island, ready to join in this exciting endeavor.

Sheila Heidmarch has given the party a charge: [u]eliminate the ancient temple’s dangers so that Society scholars can study the ruins safely, and bring back whatever knowledge lies within.[u]

Those who have made a study of history may possess useful information about their destination.

Those who have made a study of religion may also possess
useful information.

"Lissala. Liss-ala. LISSS-ala. Liss-ALA. Funny name. Wonder what sort of god it is." Rashaam tastes the name a few times, trying out different pronunciations. Mister Bean just sighs and starts making flowers grow on his arm.

know history: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 8 + (5) = 18
know religion: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (16) + 8 + (3) = 27

"Let's see now... a little history lesson if you don't mind: Thassilon was the ancient empire that encompassed all of modern Varisia and beyond. It fell into ruin at the advent of Earthfall 10,000 years ago. It was ruled over by seven runelords, extremely powerful wizards who employed Thassilonian sin magic. Bakrakhan was the province of Alaznist, Runelord of Wrath, and Xin- Bakrakhan was her capital city."

"Lissala was the goddess of fate, runes, and reward of service, and was especially prominent in Thassilon. While a much more disciplined faith in the early days of the empire, her worship grew more reckless and decadent in Thassilon’s waning years. Veneration of the deity was thought to have died with Thassilon itself."

"Alaznist didn’t treat well with the worship of Lissala, instead preferring to pay homage to a number of fiendish patrons. Earlier in Bakrakhan’s history, Lissala was widely worshipped, but as Alaznist came to power, the popularity of the faith waned in the nation. During this time, many of the temples were repurposed to venerate various demon lords."

"One prominent fiend worshipped in the late days of Bakrakhan was Yamasoth, a nascent qlippoth lord of cursed kingdoms and vile experiments. Rites to Yamasoth included mortification of the flesh and experimental transformations. Alaznist was a dedicated follower of Yamasoth, and sought to learn his ways in order to harness that power for her own armies."

"Experimental transformations? Fascinating." Riptide double-checks his supply of paper, ink, and charcoal. Then he murmurs to his familiar. "Keep a sharp eye, Sonic. Be sure to point out anything of interest."

"Far out. Transformations and mortification. Trans-mortification? Mortiformation? Yeah." Rashaam nods slowly, pondering the possibility.

“‘Pure Evil’ is how I’d pronounce it.” Antonella snaps.

“If Runelord Alaznist venerated fiends like Yamasoth, I think it best we be prepared with cold iron and ready to face all manner of filth and poison, my brothers.”

She taps the vials of antitoxin and antiplague hanging from her belt.

"Cold iron, eh? Good to know..." he checks to make sure his various weapons are secure.
"Think they might have some antitoxin or antiplague for sale aboard this ship?"

The harbor closest to the Xin-Bakrakhan dig silted over hundreds of years ago, so the Winking Wyvern drops anchor and sends the party ashore in a pair of launches.

Greeting you are a half-dozen bedraggled souls living in rugged tents sufficient for four times their number. They're led by a grim-looking woman in work clothes, with signs of emotional strain and fatigue lining her face. She introduces herself as Halla Beusophis

“Thank goodness you’ve arrived,” begins the careworn Pathfinder. “Two days ago workers at the dig site were attacked, by what or whom I don’t know. I was here at camp when it happened. Only a single worker escaped Shadaq, who crawled back here, bleeding from a dozen terrible injuries. The wounds were mortal and none of us here possessed the skill to aid him. Before he died we got little information. He told us of the attack, said everyone had been, ‘gutted like game birds.’ His last words—as his eyes violently rolled back in his head—were ‘Lissala is angry, but so am I.’

Looking to the rest of the camp's crew she continues, “The six of us are all that’s left—myself and these five hired excavators. They’ve refused to go back to the site and I didn’t dare go alone. We’ve been huddled in these damned tents since Wealday, waiting for your arrival. I’ll take you to the dig myself, but I don’t know what we’ll find. If Shadaq’s words are true, it won’t be pretty. Only the gods know whether those same attackers lie in wait.”

The extensive ruins of the ancient city begin a mere stone’s throw from the shore, but the dig site itself is a 2-mile trek. Halla accompanies the group to the temple site, and it’s an uneventful trip. Hulking mounds of the long-dead city are all around and the presence of Hollow Mountain and Alaznist‘s hateful visage glower high above.

“‘Lissala is angry, but so am I.’”

Antonella puts a finger to her chin. “Hmm … Could something have cursed the poor fellow with unnatural anger?”

Hulking mounds of the long-dead city are all around.

“This looks like a great place to get ambushed.” Antonella states flatly.

The priestess draws her wand of CMW and ✨casts protection from evil on Riptide. "Cirri, where are y..? Oh! There you are!"

"I’d suggest being ready for anything, brothers and sisters."

Antonella crouches and raises clenched fists, as she begins a catlike stalk in a tight circle, scanning the Pathfinders’ surrounds.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Kel casts mage armor on himself.

I keep forgetting to dot in Gameplay threads!

"Huh? What? Who?" Cirri flops right out of her hammock and faceplants on the ship's deck. A faerie dragon lands next to her and laughs. "You were so tired you slept through the trip, girl! Woke up long enough to eat and wash yourself, then right back to bed."

Off the pier, you see a blond human woman run up the boardwalk and up to the tents. "Cirri...Merryweather... sorry if I forgot your names, sometimes I get too sleepy." She points to the faerie dragon. "And this is Riddlywhipple. My, ah, familiar."

Once she's caught up, she frowns. "Wow, that's terrible! We gotta clear that place out. Riddy, hold onto my wand of shield. It will come in handy."

Riptide nods in appreciation to Antonella, then turns a thoughtful eye to entrance while pulling and using a series of wands on himself. Then he moves forward, pulling out his falchion.

Heightened Awareness, Shield (7 rounds remaining), Long Arm (8 rounds remaining), Pro from Evil (Antonella's Caster lvl minutes-4rounds)

perception: 1d20 + 6 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 6 + 4 = 21

"Riddy, let's keep our eyes open."

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Riddywhipple's Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26

**Flashback disembarking the Winking Wyvern**

“Well, well. As I contemplate what to do should I meet the Iro-shu upon this path, who runs up the jetty onto ‘Angry Island’ but Sister Cirri Merryweather!”

The normally stoic paladin has a warm hug for her old friend. “And who is this? Greetings, Brother Riddlywhipple!”

“My, aren’t you living in interesting times. Has Cirri told you about the Old Norseman she … charmed, to get us into a dockside warehouse during that icebound longship caper?”

**Innocently** “Did you two crazy kids end up getting hitched, Cirri?”

❄ ♡ ❄

Riptide nods in appreciation to Antonella.

Antonella *smacks* one of Riptide’s broad shoulders before holding up her own wand to the Wizard, Two Miles from the Coast.

“May I have a charge of mage armor as well, please Kel.”

"Of course... glad to oblige!" He uses Antonella's wand to cast mage armor on her... "Just let me know when you want it again....a charge from most such wands only lasts one hour unless yours is special... just keep that in mind."

He scowls a moment... "Cirri, do we know each other? I recall meeting Riddywhipple once before but not associated with a caster at the time..." not sure if I played that scenario with you or not... wasn't that from SAnos Abduction?

Yes, Riddywhipple is from the Sanos Abduction, although Kel and Cirri never played that scenario together.

"Do I remember you?" The faerie dragon flies off and flitters about Kel. "Haha! Temporal action is so fickle in the Fey Lands. My strongest memories are with Cirri and her friends helping me. She even broke a curse over me later on!, reverting me to my true form."

Upon hearing Antonella, he smiles. "She is good at fixing people, I guess! In more ways than one!"

Cirri turns bright red. "N-n-no, we didn't go on a date or anything like that." Cirri, turns away, embarrassed.

"I mean it was less charming and more like an innocent lie. Didn't have to beat him up or anything." *cough* "Riddy says he had lots of help, but the Pathfinder Society helped him out the most."

"Sorry about not talking much. My sleep schedule gets wacky when I go bird watching for too long. But nocturnal birds are so cool."

Upon hearing Antonella, he smiles. "She is good at fixing people, I guess! In more ways than one!"

“I am counting on it, Master Riddywhipple.” The monk bows to the faerie dragon.

"… an innocent lie."

Antonella frowns. “Did you just confess to lying with a man you hardly knew? CIRRI MERRYWEATHER!! I’m a paladin you know!”

The priestess cannot maintain her act, as her features break into a smile. “Worry not about words, Sister Cirri. Many talk but say nothing. It is one’s actions in life that determine progress up the Mountain.”

“And I have complete faith in your actions, Sister.” The monk bows once more.

I just noticed, do we only have 4 players lol, #problemsreallifegamesdon'thave

The area surrounding the temple, littered with rocks, loose soil, and bits of excavation debris, make reaching the site slow and tricky.

This breathtaking edifice is constructed of tightly fitted blocks of brown stone covered with intricate engravings depicting humans engaged in acts of terrible self-mutilation.

A pillared portico girds the eastern front of the great temple, the carved columns resemble fat, coiled serpents. The structure stands about 20 feet tall, though a great dome rises out of the center another 20 feet. How this place could be more than 10,000 years old defies logic some sorcery must have preserved the stone.

The stench of blood is the only greeting upon arrival at the excavated temple. Before an imposing stone structure lie a few stripped and eviscerated bodies bearing terrible wounds that go far beyond the marks of battle in their viciousness, and furrows in the fresh dirt indicating that others have been dragged inside.

Halla covers her mouth to stifle a cry, then rushes to the side of one of the bodies, falling to her knees. “Kovo! Oh, Kovo, look how they butchered you!”

CURRENT MAP

The wounds on these bodies are similar to those found on Shadaq’s corpse, with the addition of more vicious mutilation.

After a few moments of mourning over her colleague’s battered and bloody body, Halla rallies and aids in examining the gruesome scene.

She reports that others are missing: Pathfinder Riemme Batelle, two dig workers named Pel and Saala, and four laborers. A check of the surrounding area doesn’t turn them up, though you are able to find a masterwork longsword coated with dried blood, a half-full quiver of arrows, and a broken longbow—Halla identifies them as belonging to Riemme.

"I suppose the drag marks probably indicate the path of the missing... Seems we have a rescue mission on our hands! Isn't that right up your alley, Antonella? Being a paladin and all, I mean. As for the buildings being so old and surviving, that's very possible, the Thassilonian builders were able to construct many stone marvels that survive til this very day."

Cirri frowns as the carnage becomes clear. "Rescuing is a good idea." She taps the ground with her staff a few times. "Let's see where these tracks lead!"

"Seems we have a rescue mission on our hands! Isn't that right up your alley, Antonella?"

Antonella’s scrutinises the chilled wizard. “Rescuing lost souls is an ongoing Moonday to Starday mission, Brother Kel.”

The paladin’s unblinking gaze remains on Kel, until Cirri’s cry turns her mind to more pressing concerns.

“I am with you, Sister.”

Aid Survival to track: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

Riptide will use his Shield and Long Arm wands before moving toward the damaged door.

"This way!"

Kel follows Riptide a few paces behind. He stands ready to assist with whatever is encountered... He looks over Riptide's shoulder and tries to determine if there are any traps on or around the door, casting detect magic as they approach.

perc: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (9) + 11 = 20

Survival: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23 Rashaam kneels down and examines the tracks, trying to make hide or hair of them.

Approaching the portico, it’s visible that the northeastern wall has been breached.

Halla pipes up, "I was just here yesterday, this is so strange. That wall was perfectly intact. We all had agreed to wait for your arrival before breaching the inner sanctum!"
An intact version of the broken wall is on the portico’s southeastern face—irregularly shaped stones, much paler
than the other stones of which the structure was built, mortared in place with dried clay.

knowledge dung or eng dc 26: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 8 + (4) = 17

Kel can't seem to make any more sense of it than the obvious observations - the wall has been breached.

A tall man with desert robes stands in front of the wall, leaning against it. As the Pathfinder's approach, he stands properly and walks to meet them. His wayfinder swings freely from his neck, emblazoned with the symbol of the Andoran's and the Liberty's edge faction. His voice as he speaks is rough and deep, a voice that brokes no arguements.

Greetings my friends. My name is Mutahir Hashem. The society has recalled me from my activities to assist you in your mission. Of course, you may have heard of me by my other name...

He taps his wayfinder and continues.

Many call me "Mutahir the Cleric Killer", but I assure you, I have sworn an oath to bring no harm and protect the lives of all pathfinders, even those who enslave themselves to the gods. The society felt that my skills might be useful, should you be forced to deal with cultists of various stripes. I only ask that you do not bother with spells of a divine nature on me... they do not work.

He turns and waves to the open wall.

I have been waiting patiently here for you, though I must admit, I haven't the slightest clue what did this.

Many call me "Mutahir the Cleric Killer", but I assure you, I have sworn an oath to bring no harm and protect the lives of all pathfinders

“I’m pleased to hear it, Brother Mutahir.”

… even those who enslave themselves to the gods.

The priestess’ tone is calm and level. “Do pull me up if my quest to help others, in order to improve both myself and this world offends you.”

☥ ☥ ☥

Antonella pauses outside the ruin to peer inside and detect evil. “Is this the only breach in the temple walls?”

Take 10 Perception for traps & threats: 10 + 7 = 17

“If so, it would make a natural choke point with which to draw antagonists towards, so that we can deal with them from outside one at a time.”

“Assuming they follow us as we retreat from inside …” She pauses to check with the others. “Am I making sense, brothers and sisters?”

Mutahir wrote:

… even those who enslave themselves to the gods.

The priestess’ tone is calm and level. “Do pull me up if my quest to help others, in order to improve both myself and this world offends you.”

Mutahir looks at the paladin with probably the most annoying and infuriating thing that he could do in that moment, which is pity. He speaks calmly and softly.

Your quest to fulfill others, to improve yourself and this world is most admirable, and I wish you luck on it. Maybe someday you will realize that you do not need to enslave your soul to another being for the power to do it.

He turns back to the wall and scratches his chin.

But, alas, the time for theology and philosophy is not now. Now is the time for action.

Listening to the paladin's thoughts, he nods at her tactical acumen.

Yes indeed. Should a retreat become necessary, we should keep this point in mind, as the natural defenses may very well allow us to turn the tide against pursuers.

"Cleric-Killer seems a pretty harsh buzzkill sort of name, man. How about 'Cleric-Disapprover-Of'? Still, pleased to meetcha, man. This is Bean. You can call him Mister Bean. He appreciates formality, man." Rashaam gestures to the leshy on his shoulder.

"I'm Rashaam."

Rashaam, knowing nothing about engineering, decides to examine the walls for any traps or pitfalls. As a note, I have Trap Spotter with a +12 to Perception.

Taking 10 to spot traps for a 22!

"I understand your sentiments, but 'cleric-killer' IS pretty graphic. They do have their place and you cannot say they are totally misguided, as the power they channel is quite real. Anyway, I can offer you healing that does not come from divine sources if you are amenable to that."

"Hi! I'm Cirri!"

K Dungeoneering: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25 So close!

"And something is up with this wall breach, but I don't know what, exactly." The faerie dragon snaps his tail on her back. "Oh, and this is Riddywhipple! He's really helpful and good with arcane wands."

Cirri seems oblivious to the undercurrent of theologic theory, but she hears Antonella's strategic advice. "Yeah, that makes sense."

[small]"Winds of the north, carry me aloft!"[/small]

Cirri's hair loosens and flaps like wings, lifting her above the ground slightly. "I'll stay a bit airborne as we enter."
Using the Flight Hex to fly 10 feet above the ground. She'll keep this up for 2 minutes.

Riptide grunts a greeting. "Time for chatter is over. Evil is near."
He gestures at the dead body in explanation and moves up to the door.

Mutahir moves up to examine the body, drawing his sword and holding it lightly in his hand. He chuckles at Kel and Rashaam as he looks at the body and surrounding area intently.

perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

I am a harsh, buzz-kill sort of person my dear friend. But that is life. As for your assertion Kel, I'm considered a "Softie" among the Rahadoumi for merely believing that clerics, paladins, and other slaves to the gods are misguided. Many believe they should be exterminated outright.

He kneels and begins to pat down the body and look it over, looking for any obvious signs for it's death.

heal: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14

One could say a demonist or other cleric of death is helpful to... they may cure dieses and wounds as well as any other, and even followers of the most depraved gods may channel healing energies if there is enough goodness in their own hearts. But "Usefulness" does not negate what they are... nor what I am.

He taps his wayfinder again with a emphasis on the sound of it against his armor.

Luckily for you, I am a pathfinder first and foremost... that is the oath I swore, and I will upkeep it. Explore, Report, Cooperate.

Can Riptide see anything inside?
Darkvision 60'
Perception: 1d20 + 7 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 7 + 4 = 25