GM Faelyn's Evergreen Scenarios (Inactive)

Game Master Faelyn

Sorry, I was gone camping over the weekend and not even my Jetpack could get internet service. I thought I would have service, which is why I didn't mention anything, sorry folks.

Slam: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Crit Confirm: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Critical Hit!: 2d6 + 8 ⇒ (5, 3) + 8 = 16 Poor Scraps..

Just as Scraps begins to move through the foul-smelling mushrooms, a tendril suddenly shoots out of the mass and crushes poor Scraps against the wall, sending the little fellow sliding to the ground...

COMBAT

Everyone is up! Actions will occur in order of posting due to enemy going dead last on initiative.

Do we know anything about the enemy? Does it look like a big mushroom?"

Syllyn will cast ear-piercing scream, though it is more like the screeching of metal on metal. Of course no one can hear it except the enemy so it hardly matters!

damage: 1d6 ⇒ 2 and dazed, DC 15 Fort ST for half damage and no daze.

It looks like a large (10x10) mound of rotting refuse with a large number of small mushrooms growing on top of it.

Fort DC 15: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

The mass shudders suddenly and goes utterly still...

Surprised, Sune just has time to draw her greatclub and slam it into the creature.

greatclub: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 121d10 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Unable to approach the freaky mushrooms, the barbarian picks up his dog and moves back.

"THRAPTH!"

lt. crossbow (-4 cover): 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (1) + 2 - 4 = -1 damage: 1d8 ⇒ 4

TWANG! THUMP!

"Er? Thorry Mathter...."

Knowledge(dungeoneering): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

Juhnavi steps out of the way of others, while enhancing her longsword with her occult focus. Using 1 point of mental focus to increase longsword to +1

Okay, we are moving on now. Sorry I wasn't able to get the update on the promised day. Had a very busy past few days!

We'll assume Juhnavi provides the rest of you with this following information.

Juhnavi, in additional to the previously mentioned abilities, you also recall that slime molds have a tendency to spread a disease called fungal rot and typically consume their prey by Engulfing them until the disease kills it.

Round 1 Recap

Syllyn lets loose with a brutal scream that only the mold can hear and stops the thing in tracks, affording Sune the time to draw her greatclub and smash down upon it! Padesat gathers his corgi buddy and withdraws. Igor fires his crossbow that glances Juhnavi's shoulder and tears some of the fabric from her clothing! Juhnavi recalls some important information while clearing the way for others and enhancing her longsword! Uslad fumes and curses under his breath Delay.

Round 2 Actions go!

"You're impeding our progress!" Sune laments as she tries to get past the creature, swinging her greatclub again.

greatclub: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 141d10 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13

Syllyn will maintain the rage and go for another scream.

Ear-Piercing Scream: 1d6 ⇒ 4 sonic damage and dazed, or DC 15 Fort ST for half and no daze.

I can't really get at it... Maybe people could attack and then move back?

Okay folks... lets pick it up a bit we are almost done with this scenario. Anyone that has not posted any actions by 5 PM CST tonight will be skipped and we move onto the enemy.

Fort DC 15: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

The slimy mold starts to surge forward, attempting to overwhelm Sune; however, she quickly smacks the foul ooze with her greatclub once more! The massive foul smelling ooze explodes into a shower of ichor all over the walls of the cave.

Sune AoO: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Combat over!

Okay, the scenario is basically over at this point. I'll work on getting Chronicle Sheets typed up over the weekend. Go ahead and do whatever wrap up you'd like.

Awesome!

Syllyn dips his finger in the ooze remains and tastes just the tiniest bit.

You never know what they can do with things. I wonder if you can make a spice out of ooze?

"PUT THAT DOWN!" Igor slaps Syllyn's scaly hand. (Don't ever ask him to repeat that verbally.) "That might be part of Thrapth. Oh Thrapth, why are you so brave?"

"Berf?"

Shocked at being slapped, Syllyn stands back. "Scraps? This? You think? The things you alchemists can make out of anything amazes me."

"Thay, you have beautiful handth. My grandfather had handth like yourth. He kept then in a drawer in hith offith. You wouldn't happen to have a thpare left would you?"

"That, my friend, is a question better asked of a troll... if you dare."

Sune sees some light at the end of the tunnel.

"I think we have explored all of it! We should have been done hours ago, but it is good to be done!"

Sorry about my lack of posting folks. We had a crazy weekend at work and I spent my last two days-off working with our local Prosecutor's Office drawing up charges on a fatal drunk-driving crash I investigated on Saturday night.

After everyone calms down after their fight, the sudden faint sound of singing echoes down the tunnel and there is a fight light at the far end... You finally make your way out and find Janira waiting for you all with smile upon her face. "Ah! There you are! I knew you would make it through without issue." She suddenly hops excitedly to her feet. "Tell me! What did you find?"

Chronicle sheets are mostly done. I'll post them in the Discussion Thread shortly and then work on getting this reported.

"Oozes and mushrooms and fey and undead, and a friendly priest. Who would've thought?"

You all quickly wrap up your Confirmation and receive a very welcome return from your compatriots at the Society! Janira eagerly speaks about your heroism in facing down the minotaur with her!

You have been stationed at the Grand Lodge in Absalom, awaiting assignment for a mission of utmost importance. Things finally seemed in motion when Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng sent out a summons for available agents. Specialized in the history of Absalom, Dreng is known for putting off-duty agents to work on sundry tasks when he finds them resting within the city’s limits.

Coming to the meeting place—an odd choice of venue, as it is a street corner far from the Grand Lodge—a lone beggar garbed in baggy robes approaches. The only figure visible in the constant drizzle, the beggar sticks out his hands for currency.

“Have you any coin to spare, fine folk?”

The question hangs in the air for only a scant moment before the figure pulls back his hood to reveal the wizened face of Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng. He gives a crooked smile, soaked head to toe from his unprotected time in the rain. His clothes smell faintly of cabbage.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a wink. “I always like to play a little joke on agents when I stumble across them during my jaunts into town. Now, why did I summon you fine folk here again…?” Dreng shakes his head from side to side, as though trying to knock water out of his ears, despite the constant downpour.

“Ah yes, the Wounded Wisp! I’m undercover now and can’t stray far from the site I’m watching, but I need someone to retrieve a package for me from that fine establishment. It’s among Absalom’s most storied taverns, you see, and one that holds a special place of privilege in the Society’s lore as the place where the organization began. Well, I could drone on and on about it, but standing out in the rain is doing none of us any favors.” As if anticipating agreement, the bedraggled venture-captain produces a small slip of folded paper from one of his many stitched pockets. Dreng quickly shows a glimpse of the page’s contents: a map detailing the location of the Wounded Wisp bar.

“The bartender is a woman by the name of Heryn Gale, a fine lady who came to own the Wisp after the passing of her father from—oh, bah, it’s really getting too cold for me to give a proper history lesson! If you could just go to the Wisp, and tell Heryn you’re there to pick up my parcel, it would be most appreciated. I’ll be around here for several more hours at least.”

Knowledge History: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

Ah yes, history, one of my favorite subjects! I've been to the Wisp before - fine establishment with exotic foods. I learned a lot about shellfish there and they treat Pathfinders well!

Since we've been summoned to a meeting in the street in the rain, I'd be in my vigilante identity.

A man dressed in red and black, his face covered by a masked hood, steps forward from the shadows.

"Retrieve a package. Got it." he says.

"I hope it's a ledger detailing the shenanigans of corrupt officials." he thinks to himself.

A excited hunchback in a domino mask comes running up the sodden street calling to the masked man.

"Mathter! Mathter! You forgot your lunch!"

“Why are you so shoddily dressed?”

Huh? I think he lookth rather dathing.

He turns to Dreng. "Thay, who doeth your thtitchwork?"

"Mathter! Mathter! You forgot your lunch!"

...

"Thay, who doeth your thtitchwork?"

"This field agent is talking in code! Clearly, he knows more than he lets on."

"Pthhh!" The hunchback sidles up next to the mysterious vigilante so as to lisp quietly into the man's ear. "It'th me, your new, old, loyal thervant, and thide-kick Igor*. Did my thubtle dithguyth fool you thir?"

Igor raises the corner of his own domino mask, and winks horribly.

Then noticing the spittle, he produces a dry towel from within his cloak and dabs at the side of the vigilante face.

* Think Terry Pratchett's Disc World Series Igors.

"It wath thort of cold out tho I put on thome pantth over my tightth. If that'th okay mathter." He reapplies the towel.

We are off. Let us know what happens when we arrive at the Wounded Wisp.

Does he know my secret identity?!?

"Sir, I know nothing of the Mr. Mathter of whom you speak. I am the Red Raven--foe of tyranny and champion of justice!"

Igor winks (horribly) again.

"Don't mind Igor. He has a master complex. Seems like he calls everyone master. I've heard he is a bit gross to other humans, something to do with the spittle and that he does not follow the typical human norm in the way of looks. At least I think that is what they said. No offense Igor."

Just waiting for Sune to check in and we will move onward!

Sorry, forgot we were starting somehow!

It soon becomes apparent that the scatterbrained Sylph has been trying to get ahead of everyone. She runs back to find the others talking to the beggar.

"What is wrong with you people!? We're supposed to be finding the Venture-Captain Dreng, not consorting with beggars! Hurry up!"

".... No offense Igor."

"None taken." Says Igor to the 'Creature from the Black Lagoon'.

"Oh mathter! I almost forgot. We brought your exploding fire bombth, and adhethiveth."

On cue from around the corner of a building a small, ghastly, misshapen chimera of darkest childhood nightmare buzzes horribly into view carrying what looks like a tanglefoot bag and some alchemist's fire. The thing, a combination of rabbit, dog, wallaby, and lobster, as well as a range of other representatives of the animal kingdom, lands bipedally upon the ground before the group and then retracts it's translucent, wasp's wings beneath the moveable bits of its back carapace.

"Plbehbeh-pbbt?" It squelches.

"Mathter, Venture-Captain Dreng, this is Thrapth!" Igor says proudly. "The thtitchwork ith all my own." He beams grotesquely.

"Scraps? Igor! What have you done to your poor scraps? What next? A drooling maw with rotten teeth?"

I couldn't resist.

"Funny you thould athk. Thrapth thow him the inthide of your mouth."

After the brief introductions, Dreng smiles at Scraps although he keeps his fingers, and nose, far away from the rotting teeth... "Farewell thee well, Pathfinders! And don't return without my vintage!"

It does not take long to reach The Wounded Wisp as it is a well-known and well-patroned Pathfinder bar. However by the time you do reach it, you are all thoroughly soaked to the core and a slight chill has set into your bones and joints.

The smell of smoke and spilled ale assails the senses in this wide-open area. Walls of dark-stained wood make up the sides of the Wounded Wisp, while well-used wooden tables are spread throughout the space. A raised area in the back of the establishment houses several additional tables and eating areas for groups seeking more than just a good drink. An austere bar supported by kegs instead of wooden panels commands the northern end of the room. A stained-glass cabinet stands behind the bar, its dark panes cracked in several spots, yet not so opaque as to conceal the several dozen types of hard liquor within.

Map updated! Let me know if you have any issues editing it. It should be okay as I just checked it, but crazier things have happened.

The vigilante walks up to the bartender: "Venture-Captain Drendle Dreng sent us to pick up his special vintage."

Sune nods in approval at their new companion, whose name she is not even close to having the patience to say.

"Finally, someone who gets right to the job at hand! Thanks!"

Turning to the bartender, she says "Please be quick about it! It's an emergency! Well, almost!"

Syllyn just wanders in close enough to hear the conversation, attention half given there and half to the patrons.

The vigilante notices Syllyn observing the other patrons.

Good idea. We should watch our backs here. It would be good to know who else is in the building.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

The vigilante notices Syllyn observing the other patrons.

Good idea. We should watch our backs here. It would be good to know who else is in the building.

Quick question, are you dressed like Viisikymmentäviisi-man? And is that your crime-fighting ID? What does that look like? Inquiring Homunculi want to know

Quick question, are you dressed like Viisikymmentäviisi-man? And is that your crime-fighting ID? What does that look like? Inquiring Homunculi want to know

Since I'm using the Red Raven pre-gen, I'm playing him. Right now I'm in his vigilante persona--mask and all. :-)

I'm using my avatar to keep in mind that this is the character who will receive credit.

For the record, Igor's shtick is to latch on to the most likely person to have a servant, or henchman in his current party, and be that person. Aristocrats, knights, mad scientists, vampires, and caped vigilantes all fall into that range of targets, followed closely by anyone who speaks with a Transylvanian (Ustalavian) accent. In this case he's playing a macabre 'Alfred' to your 'Batman'. If it's a problem he can tag team with the party's resident Creature form the Black Lagoon.

He's pretty much a support alchemist rather than a ranged (splash) weapons platform.

Yea but he has a habit of calling everyone master, so that latching thing is a bit flexible.

Nope, I only ever called Juhnavi (the occultist with rich parents from Ustalav), Master. Everyone else was just a fellow serf when compared to the Mathter.