Vladlena |
Lena cast magic missile spell, hoping to destroy the plant
magic missile: 5d4 + 5 ⇒ (3, 2, 2, 1, 1) + 5 = 14
GM SpiderBeard |
@Kawrock - I'm dumb and so I'll say that he dropped you to grab Arval. You are free!
Lena and Wren blast the spore mound with twin magic missiles. Arval struggles mightily, and manages to escape the grappled!
Whiskeyjack, Kawrock, and Eldon are up!
Vladlena |
ok
Eldon Appleton |
Eldon continues his nonsensical chatter as he moves closer. He reaches inside his backpack and pulls out a vial of alchemist's fire.
"Let's use fire to harm it!" Eldon says, as if using fire to defeat an enemy is something new he just came up with.
I think it was activated when I was being botted, so Inspire Courage +2 continues!
Whiskeyjack Dunaldthal |
Whiskeyjack continued to slam his hammer into the fungal creature, ignoring the damnable spores as he flailed away.
"Take tha', ye overgrown mushroom. Gonna crush you like a troll's regenerated testicle!"
attack1,ic,pa,df,sw: 1d20 + 11 + 2 - 2 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 11 + 2 - 2 + 3 + 2 = 26
damage,ic,pa,df,sw: 1d8 + 4 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 2 = 23
attack2,ic,pa,df,sw: 1d20 + 6 + 2 - 2 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 6 + 2 - 2 + 3 + 2 = 29
damage,ic,pa,df,sw: 1d8 + 4 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 2 = 23
Full attack, SS+2 is up
GM SpiderBeard |
Whiskey Fort: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Kawrock Fort: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18
Arval Fort: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13
Attack: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (2) + 17 = 19 Damage: 2d6 + 8 ⇒ (4, 4) + 8 = 16
Attack: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (10) + 17 = 27 Damage: 2d6 + 8 ⇒ (4, 5) + 8 = 17
Grab: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (12) + 22 = 34
Magic missiles and repeated whacks from Whiskeyjack do incredible damage to the lumbering spore mound. Unfortunately the fire damage done to it this time around is not enough to suppress the spores and Arval doubles over coughing! Thankfully he manages to avoid the followup attacks.
Arval takes 1d3 ⇒ 3 con damage. Everyone is up! It's almost dead!
Wren the FeatherMage |
Round 4, Init 15
Now that her wand is empty, Wren has to hand cast Magic Missile like a chump...which she does regretfully. It's so beneath her.
5d4 + 5 ⇒ (3, 1, 3, 2, 1) + 5 = 15 force damage
HP: 55/55
AC: 17 (3 dex, 4 mage armor)
Arcane Bond: 0/1 used
Open spell slots:
Left Hand: none
Right Hand: wand of magic missile
Sage Advice: (0/9 used)
: Take +4 insight bonus to your attacks, saves, skills, ability checks for 1 round (until Wren's turn again).
Whiskeyjack Dunaldthal |
Whiskeyjack burst into a dwarven mining song that he remembered from his childhood. It sounds more like rocks being crushed into smaller rocks before being converted to gravel than actual singing, but at least it had a beat.
attack1,ic,pa,df,sw: 1d20 + 11 + 2 - 2 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 11 + 2 - 2 + 3 + 2 = 21
damage,ic,pa,df,sw: 1d8 + 4 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 2 = 20
attack2,ic,pa,df,sw: 1d20 + 6 + 2 - 2 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 6 + 2 - 2 + 3 + 2 = 21
damage,ic,pa,df,sw: 1d8 + 4 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 2 = 20
Full attack, SS+2 is up
Arval Beyondane |
Arval suddenly looks sickly and pale as one of the spores shoots up his nose. He starts coughing and sneezing, spraying blood everywhere. To prevent further attacks he lunges, trying to finish the thing off.
Power atk: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (7) + 15 = 22
Dmg: 1d10 + 15 ⇒ (9) + 15 = 24
Power atk: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26
Dmg: 1d10 + 15 ⇒ (7) + 15 = 22
GM SpiderBeard |
Fort: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25
Fort: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20
Fort: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15
Fort: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20
FOrt: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
Kawrock's fire bolt again fails to burn away enough of the spores, and clouds of spores are kicked up as Arval and Whiskyejack wail away at the thing. Wren fires in (with disdain) a home-brewed magic missile, and as the spore clouds settle, the spore mound is dead.
Just as Arval recovers from his own spores, Kawrock is overtaken by a coughing fit as the yellow mold finds fertile ground in his weird, birdy lungs. But thankfully he manages to cough them out before they do too much damage.
End of Combat
Zeroing in on the magic aura, the group manage to sift through centuries of skum dung to recover a metal helmet which gleams like it is new. It is obviously an antique.
Helm of underwater action.
Finally, as you search for the helm, you uncover one more item of note tossed on top of the midden. An amulet showing a gagged skull, the sign of the Whispering Way.
Vladlena |
So, they were here. I wonder how close we are.
spellcraft: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (7) + 13 = 20
After casting detect magic, Lena examines the helm.
Oh ho. A useful item. It's a helm of underwater action. Might be handy.
Whiskeyjack Dunaldthal |
"Migh' be handy indeed. Especially if'n we be tryin' t' take on these scum in their natcherul habita'. Mebbe the birds'd need i' t' be as useful underwater as above!"
Seeing as there was nothing left to be gleaned from the spore monster or its fetid resting place, Whiskeyjack motioned to Arval to put on his big boy britches and move along.
As he did, he caught sight of the amulet and stopped aburptly, nearly causing Arval to trip over him. "Look 'ere. Another o' them Whisperin' Way amulets. Ye'd almost think they be droppin' 'em on purpose, like breadcrumbs t' keep us a followin'. no way their jewelry is so shoddy as t' keep poppin' off ever' time we be needin' a clue o' their whereabouts!"
Whiskeyjack made this proclamation, followed it with a swig from his canteen, then shrugged. "No' like we be turnin' back a' this poin' anyways." He continued on, Arval in tow.
Kawrock of the Phoenix Clan |
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After a fit of wheezing and hacking brought on by the spores Kawrock chirps in. "This is a vile hive of skum and moldery." He walks down the passage past Lena and Wren. "Shall we see what else is down here?"
Pushing on to the unexplored areas behind Wren and Lena.
Perception: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (16) + 18 = 34
Wren the FeatherMage |
Wren seems on the verge of explaining the helm to others, but is cut off my Lena. Hfrmph! Wren tries not to be irritated by the jumping of her gun. She is brought out of her internal snit by WhiskeyJack.
"Migh' be handy indeed. Especially if'n we be tryin' t' take on these scum in their natcherul habita'. Mebbe the birds'd need i' t' be as useful underwater as above!"
What are you trying to say? Wren looks at the dwarf for several moments, trying to parse the meaning. She shakes her head, then shakes out her beautiful feathered 'armor'. Why can't I have normal companions, like myself?
She follows Kawrock and the rest, mindful of the Whispering Way's warning.
GM SpiderBeard |
There's only one way to go, and so you go thattaway.
Kawrock's Perception: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (7) + 18 = 25
As you approach the three-way junction, you pause as you hear, and see something strange. There is a faint, violet glow coming from the western passage and bizarrely, the sound of a woman softly singing a lullaby.
Vladlena |
10 points to Kawrock for the paraphrased star wars quote. :)
That's...not what I was expecting.
Vladlena |
Lena waves a hand, using prestidigitation to clean his face.
There. Now listen. Someone is ahead.
Whiskeyjack Dunaldthal |
"Wha'? Ye be injured from tha' overgrown mushroom? Bah! Lad, ye really need t' learn t' duck. Or dodge. Or block. Or somethin'."
Whiskeyjack rummaged through his pack and pulled out his healing wand, stabbing Arvala few times withit until the cuts and bruises disappeared.
clw: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
clw: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Anyone else?
Wren the FeatherMage |
"Could someone fix me up?"
"Oh, stop your whining dearie," Wren rebukes. "We've all had injuries. This damp air in here is ruining some of my feathers. I'm surprised Kawrock hasn't started to molt." Uh, don't we have any scrolls or wands in our stash? Wren has nothing to help, sorry.
Wren listens, trying to hear what Kawrock hears.
1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22 Perception
Vladlena |
Arval's feelin' the love
Arval Beyondane |
Arval raises an eyebrow at Kawrock.
"I have to drink your... tears?"
After a moment he shrugs and adds.
"But how do we get you to cry, or can you just do that? And do you have a small vial to catch them in or do I have to lick them from your face?"
The more he thinks about it the weirder it gets, he shakes his head.
"Let's just do this... Everything is better than feeling this bad..."
Wren the FeatherMage |
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Wren flies closer to watch the tearlicking. She's keenly interested in the mating habits of all bird and bird things (of which Kawrock probably qualifies).
"Yes, Kawrock, it would be nice to witness this aspect of Tengu reproduction. This will help my understanding immensely."
When others are ready, Wren is happy to follow them to the sound of the voice. If someone is a good scout, this might be a good time. But please remember to push when you post people.
Kawrock of the Phoenix Clan |
Kawrock tries to take each question in turn, but furrows his brow at Wren's comment. "This isn't an aspect of reproduction. It just the way my clan uses healing magic. It'll take me a few minutes to preform the ritual."
Kawrock instructs Avral to sit across from him. Closing his eyes the tengu focuses on the pain his friend is in...producing a single tear which he collects on the end of one of his talon fingers and drops in Avral's mouth.
Lesser Resto: 1d4 ⇒ 1
"Is that sufficient or do you require more?"
I can cast 2 more feel free to just roll them so we can keep going.
Vladlena |
I'll have a look down the passage. back in a sec.
Lena heads towards the glowing light and singing, as quietly as she could
stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
hmmm
perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17
GM SpiderBeard |
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
Lena start tip-toeing as the group figure out what to do with Arval's gross illness. She enters the room. As she does so, she feels a strange sensation of listlessness and ennui, but nothing she can't handle.
This large, high-ceilinged cavern is mostly dry, faintly olluminated by patches of violet fungi growing on the walls and ceiling. A wide pool of clear water stands just inside the entrance. A pair of ledges run along the chamber’s north and south walls, accessed by wooden ladders. At the far end of the chamber, the foor drops into a pit, the top of a ladder just visible at its edge. Scattered across the floor of the room are a number of bedrolls and assorted personal possessions, including, strangely, a number of dressmaker’s dummies, some of them child-sized. The low, haunting melody of a woman singing carries through the chamber.
Crouched in the bottom of the pit is a young human woman, cradling what looks like a doll and singing to it. Her skin is a greyish shade of white, like she's been bleached. Her hair and eyes are also dull and colorless and her body glows with an eerie radiance. She continues singing.
"Lullaby, and good night, in the skies stars are bright. May the moon's silvery beams bring you sweet dreams."
She does not notice Lena, and continues gently singing.
Vladlena |
Ok, this is strange
Lena gives herself a mental shake. Then quietly withdraws.
Back with others she says
there's a human woman, well, she look sorta human ahead sitting, singing to a doll in a pit
Lena describes the room to the party.
she looks like all the colour has been bleached out of her, and she is, kinda glowing. Looks weird. Oh, and i felt a bit odd when I went in there, like apathetic, but it didn't seem too bad. I might be a little tired.
Wren the FeatherMage |
Wren tries to place out what manner of horror this woman might be...but wants to see for herself. Still flying, she is ready to move with the party to go get a peek.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4 Stealth...
...and can't keep her big beak shut for the 10 seconds it takes the party to move there.
Arval Beyondane |
Lesser rest: 1d4 ⇒ 3
"Thank, I feel a lot better."
Arval says as a bit of color comes back to his cheeks. He follows Lena into the room, being a lot quieter than Wren. His armor softly clinks as he moves along.
Stealth: 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (14) - 4 = 10
Whiskeyjack Dunaldthal |
"A woman ye be sayin'? Wha' would a woman be doin' in this place singin' t' a doll?"
Clattering alongside Arval in his plate, Whiskeyjack banged his hammer on his shield to get the woman's attention.
"Oi! Ye be needin' some help there? Wha're ye doin' in this dreadful place?"
GM SpiderBeard |
The group all make their way in, and the same feeling of listlessness and being out of place, or without purpose floods the group.
Everyone must make a DC 22 will save. I'll let you guys make it.
You are overwhelmed with listlessness and ennui. You feel as if you have no energy, and your life has no purpose. You also feel a deep attachment to this area, as if this is the only place you can be safe. Take a -4 to all will saves.
The woman looks up at you with her blank, colourless eyes. "Pretty baby goo goo!" she burbles. "Pretty colors down the tunnel make it allllll better."
As you get closer, you see that she is not carrying a doll at all. It is the desiccated corpse of an infant, blanched of all color and elasticity. She begins singing to it again.
Arval Beyondane |
Will save: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21 Wow... Just wow...
Arval looks at the woman, before he even gets the chance to be horrified his eyes glaze over. He stares at the tunnel in front of them and feels that all the solutions lie there. He takes a step closer to this beautiful colourful tunnel.
Vladlena |
ulp!
will: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16
question. Some things if you save against an effect once, you are immune for 24 hours. Is that the case here?
Whiskeyjack Dunaldthal |
1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 12 + 2 = 22
"Woman, ye be daft. Pu' th' baby down an' back away. An' knock off all tha' mind affectin' heeby jeeby nonsense. Ain't no sense in tryin' tha' onna dwarf!"
Is there any way down to where she is?
Wren the FeatherMage |
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1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 Will (+2 more vs. enchantments)
Wow. What luck. Wren probably succeeded because she feels that way all time. Inside.
Wren looks at the thing with a critical eye.
1d20 ⇒ 3 Knowledge (+18 arcana/religion, +16 planes)
GM SpiderBeard |
Whoops, shoulda been everyone but Lena. you're good Lena - you made the save.
She doesn't seem to respond and continues half-babbling, half-singing at the baby. Wren looks at the baby, and the woman - the best she can surmise is whatever killed the baby seems to have affected the woman. It looks drained of its life force, but more bizarrely its colour.
You can easily get into the pit via a ladder leading downwards.
The 'dressmaker's dummies' which are around the floor in bedrolls are, upon closer inspection, the dried-up remains of a dozen adult human women and female babies and toddlers. They have been blanched of color and elasticity and are now just hard, shrunken, human-shaped shells of crumbling, parchment-like skin curled into fetal positions.
Whiskeyjack Dunaldthal |
"Well, is she dangerous, or jest crazy? No' tha' dangerous people cannae be crazy and th' opposite, bu' ye know!"
Whiskeyjack didn't wait for an answer - likely Wren would babble something completely useless about nests and molting rocks or some nonsense - but stowed his hammer and made his way down the ladder to the woman. He approached cautiously, trying to maintain the calm that he wasn't feeling. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the woman's face, even as he talked to her.
" 'Ere now. Why dinnae we be gettin' ye someplace safe an' away from here? There be no sense in stayin'. The fish folk be gone, an' they cannae be keepin' ye here any longer."
sense motive: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (10) + 13 = 23
Vladlena |
she looks sick.
Lena looks around
perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18
GM SpiderBeard |
Nope, the line I wrote was the best you got out of this. This is an unfamiliar effect.
Whiskeyjack gets in the woman's face and puts on his best fatherly, dwarfly voice as he tries to reach out to her. She smiles vacantly at him and goes back to babbling at her 'baby'.
It's fairly clear to him something has completely shattered her mind.