GM SpiderBeard's Carrion Crown (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Wren chitters a bit in relief and continues to think about what is going on with this guy. She casts Greater Invisibility and moves to where she can see the jerk, and find out what his major malfunction is.

1d20 + 24 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 24 + 2 = 45 Know (religion)

reflex: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (7) + 21 = 28

Lena moves and avoids much of the blast, but still takes a heavy hit

Wren will reply what she thinks she knows about the head jerk while pondering her next action.

DRs? Special attacks? Weaknesses? How fast it will suck out Bronin’s soul, given the chance.

The strange moment Bronin and others observed makes her think Adisant's become not a lich like Tar-Baphon, but rather a forsaken lich.

Like most skeletal creatures, bludgeoning and magical weapons will be most effective against him. They have no special weakness, but they do have only limited control over the unbridled magic that endlessly funnels into their body. They can harness that power into a dangerous blast, but if they don't, the backlash hurts them (which is what just happened to AA). Wren also realizes, based on the speed of his movement, Adisant is clearly skilled with both staff and spell, likely a magus of some significant power. So all in all, pretty quickly. [/ooc]

Oh, and whoops. Missed something last round, but I guess you guys get the benefit of that mistake. :(

Reflex DC 20: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (9) + 14 = 23

Elena is hurting as the electricity courses through her body. If she hadn't dodged the burst she certainly would be on the ground dying. Moving a bit quicker she drives within range to try and get some of her curses working on the lich. "Even if we don't stop you, others will. You life is over."

Misfortune Will DC 25.

HP 27/130
AC21 T13 FF19
CMD 30
Fort +13, Ref +14, Will +8; +1 Luck bonus vs. traps, +4 Ref vs traps
SA: sneak attack +4d6, studied target +3 (3rd, swift action), trap spotter
Orc Ferocity: 1/1
Tactician: 2/2
Target:
Active:

Ref DC 20: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (4) + 14 = 18

I can no longer 5' step to flank while he was able to move 15' away, swing a staff, and hit me with chain lightning?

Attack: 1d20 + 25 ⇒ (17) + 25 = 42
Damage: 2d4 + 23 ⇒ (3, 4) + 23 = 30

Attack: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (5) + 21 = 26
Damage: 2d4 + 23 ⇒ (4, 3) + 23 = 30

Attack: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (17) + 16 = 33
Damage: 2d4 + 23 ⇒ (3, 1) + 23 = 27

Attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12
Damage: 2d4 + 23 ⇒ (4, 2) + 23 = 29

"Adder is looking pretty awful, much like that dwarf we used to have with us, what was his name again?"

Wren changes tactics, readying a Magic Missile to interrupt any spellcast from the main jerk.

Readied for spellcasting:
5d4 + 5 ⇒ (4, 2, 2, 2, 1) + 5 = 16 force missile
1d20 + 15 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 15 + 6 = 39 SR

Round 4/15 Haste: +1 to all the attacks and yadacluckaclucka. You know the deal.

He stepped diagonally away from your flank, Adder. One of you (Adder and Bronin) can 5-foot step to be adjacent again, but the other will have to move farther to establish a flank. He has spell combat, so he can cast and Strike, and then the 5-foot step is free.

Lena throws a gem against the ground and casts a spell with a single word, and vanishes

Fire elemental gem, which summons a large fire elemental, then casts a quickened vanish and moves five feet.

A 16-foot tall pillar of flame gouts up from the gem. It moves into a vaguely humanoid shape.

large fire elemental

let's try this again

reflex, PFE: 1d20 + 8 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 8 + 2 + 2 = 21

Edit: Whew!

Whiskeyjack writhed and twisted as the electricity reamed his body. Several patches of hair and beard crisped as he flailed in the air. Somehow he managed to hold onto his weapon, thought he was all but dead after that spell. Gasping out a prayer to Angradd through cracked lips, Whiskeyjack healed some of his wounds, then looked about to see the others' condition. He flew to the aid of the others, flanking the lich and lashing out with his empowered hammer.

fervor: 5d6 ⇒ (4, 3, 6, 4, 1) = 18

attack,dp,pa, bane: 1d20 + 19 + 4 - 3 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 19 + 4 - 3 + 2 = 27
damage, good, pa bane: 1d10 + 10 + 6 + 2 + 2d6 ⇒ (9) + 10 + 6 + 2 + (5, 6) = 38

Bronin steps forward to attack, seeing his allies greatly injured.
You are just a two bit charlatan! You are a pretender to the throne. There's so many like you - trying to cut corners to be sitting on the throne. Well, the only thing you've earned this day is sword wounds!

He lets loose with a flurry of sword swings.

Bronin slices and dices and many images disappear with pops!

Possible Crit with the Long Sword.
LS3: 1d20 + 16 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 16 + 6 = 41 damage: 2d6 + 17 + 6 ⇒ (5, 3) + 17 + 6 = 31 + Fire: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 4) = 8

As Wren readies her own spell, Lena smashes a gem on the ground and has to resist flinching at the sudden surge of heat that washes over her from the resulting elemental.

Meanwhile, Adder, Whiskey and Bronin step forward and bring their weapons to bear on their foe, trying to get around both his magic and his staff. Whiskey can't penetrate his guard, but Adder destroys a couple of images. Bronin however, seems locked in, each stroke finding its target. The first two destroy the last of the multiple Adrissants, but then he begins slicing and cutting at the would-be tyrant. By the end, if Adrissant still had blood, much of it would have been spilled on the tower floor. Damn; every Strike hit, though the short sword didn't do much damage

Still, Adrissant stands and even as you watch, his bones seem to begin knitting back together. Ignoring Elena's hex, he lashes out with the dark energy that seems to wrack his own body a moment before, catching Adder, the flame elemental and Lena, whom he seems to see with no difficulty, despite her spell. 30 hp, plus paralyzed 3 rounds; DC 23 Reflex for half damage and no paralysis.

He then lashes out at Bronin, clearly identifying the swordsman as the biggest threat. But Bronin's able to fend off his staff, and he finally steps back and casts a spell! He grunts as Wren's missiles hit, but still manages to complete his casting. Bronin's eyes widen as a sudden image of Lena lying dead fills his senses! Need a DC 20 Will save to recognize the image is unreal; if you fail, you're dead! Or can attempt to a DC 20 Fort save to only take 8 damage instead.

So a reaction, a staff swing, AND a spell? Wow. Did his spell at least provoke AoOs?

@Gm- best attacks this Rupert has had for two books. It came at a great time. Plus, I knew the Short sword was not going to do much damage due to DR. The main point is to get that rend damage bypassing DR!
I'll also take a Fort save to take damage on the spell.
Lastly, I have the step up feat - so I may actually get an AOO. I also can't 5 foot step this turn.

Fort Save: 1d20 + 21 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 21 + 1 = 26 Good thing I had the Fort save opportunity, because I would have been dead based on a Will save!
************

Seeing VestalLena lying dead does come as a shock to him. His mind fills with lightening flashes as the synapsis in his brain start to overload. Sorrow floods his emotion. His body forces him to cry and tears of blood actually leak from his eyes.
You are messing with my mind you terrible dictator! You need to strike me down first to get to whom I love.

Thank fully, his body is on automatic pilot. As most of his comrades have noticed long ago, his brain has never been too good and his body has just learned to operate on it's own most of the time.

The left sword arm bearing the long sword flows like a snakes-path in sand. His right arm, clutching the short sword takes angular hacks.

reflex: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (13) + 21 = 34

Damn undead!

Lena speaks in Ignan

elemental reflex: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30

Lena snaps off a fireball, empowered by her rage

empowered fireball: 10d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 3, 5, 3, 6, 1, 1, 3, 3, 2) + 1 = 33x1.5=50 damage Reflex DC 22 for half

SR: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (8) + 17 = 25

note that everyone except Wren has a firebrand on them, which makes them immune to my fire spells.

The fire elemental tries to get a flank and uses its ten-foot reach and strikes

slam: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20 (+2 if flanking)

damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 and burn 1d8 (reflex 16 to avoid)

Round 4

Wren offers another spell to try to disrupt the main jerk, another Magic Missile with intent to stop a spell.

5d4 + 5 ⇒ (1, 2, 2, 2, 4) + 5 = 16 force missile
1d20 + 15 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 15 + 6 = 35 SR

Round 5/15 Haste: +1 to all the attacks and yadacluckaclucka. You know the deal.

Seeing her curses aren't sticking Elena tries to get it once final time. "He is too powerful!"

Misfortune Will DC 25.

Then don't hurt him, help the fighters! Lena replies

Whiskeyjack moved up to try and put the horrible creature between himself and Adder for a little dwarven pump and dump. Then, shield raised high, he began the rhythmic pounding of his undead-hating hammer against undead flesh.

haste attack,dp,pa, bane, haste: 1d20 + 19 + 4 - 3 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 19 + 4 - 3 + 2 + 1 = 25
damage, good, pa bane: 1d10 + 10 + 6 + 2 + 2d6 ⇒ (9) + 10 + 6 + 2 + (1, 5) = 33

attack1,dp,pa, bane, haste: 1d20 + 19 + 4 - 3 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 19 + 4 - 3 + 2 + 1 = 27
damage, good, pa bane: 1d10 + 10 + 6 + 2 + 2d6 ⇒ (5) + 10 + 6 + 2 + (5, 1) = 29

attack2,dp,pa, bane, haste: 1d20 + 19 - 5 + 4 - 3 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 19 - 5 + 4 - 3 + 2 + 1 = 25
damage, good, pa bane: 1d10 + 10 + 6 + 2 + 2d6 ⇒ (3) + 10 + 6 + 2 + (3, 4) = 28

Edit: Dice roller, what did I ever do to you?

Ref DC 23: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (7) + 14 = 21

Unconscious and paralyzed, thanks Evasion! ;)

As Adder falls, Whiskey moves in, but he can't land a blow. However, Bronin seems to be made for this fight, his blade finding its way around Adrissant's staff again and again. The would-be tyrant screams in rage and frustration as flames wash over him from Lena's spell, avoiding hurting her companions at all.

Finally, Bronin slams both swords home into the undead monstrosity before him and rips them apart, rending the rib cage into fragments. Adivion Adrissant's eyes widen, and his mouth gapes, forming a silent "NO!" as his body falls to the ground.

Silence -- broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing and the continuing storm above Gallowspire -- descends on the tower top.

Wren pauses, giving Adder a chance to break out of his stupor.

”Make sure it’s really really dead,” Wren offers, hoping for a few more good whacks from someone. ”Someone get me that staff. It might be useful.”

With Detect Magic and Spellcraft, Wren will examine the magics around.

Elena grabs her wand from the folds of her apron and rushes to Adder's aid. "Please don't be dead."

Wand of CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Having evicerated the faux Whispering Tyrant, Bronin does not stay at the corpse long. There's a fellow man down.
Leaving the body for Whiskey or someone else to whack the Liche, he moves to Adder's paralyzed body. Putting away his swords in their sheaths.
Crouching next to Elena Nethermore

Adder! Please be okay my friend and battle brother!
He looks at the stout warrior and tries to also find a way to help/heal him.
He pulls out a potion bottle and is looking to pour it down his throat.

Is it dead? Really?

Lena moves pulling out a wand, and activates it on adder

CLW: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

Adder! Please be okay my friend and battle brother!

Which reminds Wren of something...

"Yes, Bronin, that is exactly the intention we would want with a petrified, erect, or stiff person...blahblablah...they are unable to maintain anything but the most massive...blahblablah...they are unable to contain their carnal...blahblablah...and they are *so* cocksure about their ability to perform...blahblablah...and they never think about how to satisfy...blahblablah...thrust upon them in their state, almost expectant...blahblablah...which is why we must first satiate our desires first...blahblablah...upon completion, and then let the drying process...blahblablah...and that's the best recipe for turkey jerky."

Adder wakes on Elena's healing, surprised to be alive. He coughs a little blood into his hand. "Thank you Elena. Did we win?"

Lena snickered
Yup, he's dead. Deader.

She looks at the body of the would-be lich.

And disintegrates it with a contemptuous cast.

And now, destroyed.

She goes and sits down, somewhat overwhelmed by it all. So much had happened. Ghosts, Werewolves, Golems, Vampires and a bloody undead dragon. She had been there from the start, and now it was finished? Revenge...justice for Professor Lorrimar.

What would she do now? She looked at her hands, covered in soot and ash. She looked at the fire elemental still standing there, waiting for orders.

Go, she said you are dismissed and it vanishes back to the plane of fire. Okay, that was done. Now what?

I'll have to go back to Harrowstone and let the Profs daughter know. That we got them. We got them. She looks at the rest of the party. And at Whiskeyjack, and grinned

The rest of you, we need a party. I know an inn. It is only a day or so away.

Disintegrating the body leave only your enemy's gear behind -- you hope it's not something you'll need anytime soon, but who knows when evil could arise again. Or, perhaps, you could just sell it to help fund your party. Just since it's fun, here's the last bit of loot from the campaign: scroll of mind blank, +3 mithral chain shirt, staff of shrieking, belt of physical might +2 (Strength and Dexterity), cloak of resistance +3, headband of alluring charisma +4, scarlet and blue sphere ioun stone, ring of protection +4, diamond dust worth 500 gp, spell component pouch and a spellbook.

And since people were curious, he was a magus, so he could cast and strike as a full action. He got that strange energy lash as a swift action, though it would hurt him if he didn't use it against you (which made it harder to do some of his magus-related swift action abilities).

Wren scoops up the staff and spellbook, after identifying all the interesting bits.

”Well dearies, shall we make sure that we have cleansed this place of every bit of taint and intention that this jerkwad might have promoted? I don’t want others to follow in his stead,” Wren chitters, knowing the job is almost done. ”We need to make sure any notes or plans are thoroughly destroyed.”

That guy wasn’t a lich, right? There is no phylactery laying about?

A magus lich. Skeletal champion? Interesting

Elena looks around, the moment absolutely surreal as it doesn't seem real enough to be over. "When we get back to the Inn, I can cook us all up a nice meal."

Elena looks around, the moment absolutely surreal as it doesn't seem real enough to be over. "When we get back to the Inn, I can cook us all up a nice meal."

”Oh? Maybe using one of the many recipes I’ve shared? That sounds very nice,” Wren thinks this is a very good idea.

A chicken stew, maybe Elena?

"Indeed, A large set of potpies." She eyeballs the strange chicken.

Several days later Elena works at the Inn over a hot oven as everyone awaits the table spread before them. Working on a cheese tray and wine. Sliding the door open to a bunch of hungry customers she feels more at home in the Inn, helping others.

The timer goes off and she moves back into the kitchen carrying out a large serving platter with some hot and fresh potpies and she sets one out in front of each of you. "I hope it tastes good."

Whiskeyjack blew through his remaining healing spells to get Adder back on his feet, then poked and prodded everyone with his healing sticks, leaving bruises in place of more serious wounds.

As Vladlena disintegrated the body, the dwarf went over and put a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"We did i', lass. Finally we did i'. I's been a long row t' hoe since th' Perfessor's funeral, bu' we stuck i' through t' th' end. May this be th' last time th' Whisperin' Way ever be heard of in Golarion, by our hands. Le's take th' time fer them drinks, an' get back t' Laurel as quick as spi', t' eb lettin' her know tha' we did i'."

He grinned at the halfling, and then to the others.

"An' yer all welcome t' come, too! We couldnae be doin' this withou' ye, fer yer own reasons or nae."

Whiskeyjack agreed with Wren that the tower and the surroundings needed to be checked for notes, and that a local division of Iomedae's army might need to spend a year here cleansing the place. He had the feeling that they hadn't heard the last of the Whispering Tyrant, but for now it was over.

Wren earlier identified it as a forsaken lich: The means of attaining lichdom are extremely personal for mortal spellcasters, fraught with misinformation and peril. The smallest miscalculation in the potion of lichdom’s formula or most minute f law in one’s phylactery can interrupt the process that infuses one’s mortal soul with overwhelming arcane and negative energies. Other times, an inexperienced wizard attempts the transformation, or erroneously consumes a formula produced for another spellcaster, instantly dying from the backlash of potent forces or condemning himself to a terminal but far more terrible end.

In these sorrowful cases, the process traps the soul of the would-be lich outside a phylactery that will not accept it and a body that has rejected it. The potent arcane forces tampered with by the lich’s failed creation also find themselves unleashed but uncontrolled, surrounding the newly formed abomination, empowering it but also slowly consuming its essence. So my read is there is no phylactery.

--

The potpies are delicious, tasting of victory and the surety that there's no way the Whispering Tyrant would ever come back and -- to pull a random example out of the air -- blast the nation of Lastwall off the face of the map.

Bronin joins the others to Elena Nethermore's inn. His mood constantly elated. He had survived. VestalLena had survived. FieryLena was drunk. Whiskeyjack was drunk, and complaining about human ales.... which was odd because he had his ever-full drinking horn. Maybe he secretly LIKED human distilled beverages over his own supplied by his dwarven god. Maybe.
Wren had not cooked at all, and the recipes he shared did not "appear" to be used at anytime during the past few days. At least he hadn't seen any dwarves wrestling in butter or Satyrs blowing pasta shapes out of their pipes in the kitchen.

All seemed right in the world. Bronin was happy.

He raises a toast.
Some have said that revenge can leave you hallow and empty. That seeking retribution is always an incomplete journey. To those *wise men*, I piss in your beer!
For I find myself at the end of that road. The road that I walked to get my revenge for their meddelings in my kingdom of Syrandel.
He looks at the others. Straight in the eye and with a smile on his face.
With your help, we killed them all. Destroyed their ultimate plans, and I found people to care about-- and a life to love. A toast to US!

He raises his glass and yells, To us!
With the beer mug lightened, he continues a bit.
I have reached out to my old companions in The Riverlands. In no uncertain terms, they did NOT want me returning as a Lord. Things were going well there. Returning there with a claim would destabalize things.
So...... I told them I want to return to help the fledgling country anyway I can. Be it as a rich man with money to spend, or as a skilled swordsman in the army, or an inn-owner that talks of tales of the defeat of The Tyrant and people laugh, thinking them fish stories.
He takes a pause. Looks at FieryLena.
I owe it to you - Fiery Vladlena - for showing me how I needed to grow. Taking a back seat, or accepting a lesser position was not something I could have handled just 4 months ago. Heck, I discounted the whole female gender as inferior. I have learned many things to be otherwise. So, I am going to take my horse Patience and trek back to The Riverlands in the morrow.

He raises his glass again. Toasting her name, To Vladlena!

Earlier to whiskeyjack
Lena looks at the harsh landscape and the structures within
Remember Whiskeyjack, This wasn't the Whispering Tyrant, just a wannabe. The person is still here bound forever I hope. But the evil he extrudes is still a thing. We won today. We must keep watching

At the Inn
Back at you aristo. Never forget, or I will be along to scorch your feet Lena toasts with a glass of Dwarven Whiskey.

After the party's party, Vladlena went to think. She had to think of her future. Yes, they had defeated the Whispering Way, but like fleas, There is always another one. There were the vampires, but rooting them out would likely be like peeling onions, slow and with tears. She looked to the Southwest. The true evil was still there, buried in sleep, stirring from time to time.
Lastwall watched from their side...but they were too straight-laced for her. Paladins and such were very judgemental and likely didn't like Dwarven whiskey. So not there. But Ustalov had no watch at all on Virlych that she had seen.
She mused. There were old abandoned forts on the border there. Probably some beasties, but she could clear them out. A base to keep watch.
Yes. She had a fair bit of money now. She could find a few likely souls to help. She looked back at the Inn. And smiled.

A year or two later
Vladlena Fireheart looked out from her battlement. It wasn't much of a battlement, but still. To the Southwest lay darkness and the setting sun sunk below the mountains of Virlych.
It had been a busy few years, and Vladlena (as many here now called her. She missed being called just Lena or even firey Lena.) had rebuilt the old fort. With help. Half the people here were dwarves, and no one built like a dwarf. The rest were halflings, a few gnomes and humans. No elves for some reason. The walls were solid, and the interior warm and inviting. After all, she was a halfling, and that was important.
In the distance, she saw a patrol from Lastwall approaching. She had made an agreement with them, after helping them against an undead Orc, and they agreed to help finance the fort provided their patrols could rest there before heading back to Lastwall.
The Whispering Way resurfaced again, and she had made a career out of squashing their plots when she could. It was interesting how many donated to this place. Getting the official title from the king was nice, even if he was an Aristo. Another payment for a job well done. The Knighthood of the Dark Watch sounded okay.
She saw the others from time to time, less frequently lately. It was a busy life.
As she looked at Virlych in the growing darkness, she knew that one day, the evil there would spill out. And Hopefully, she would be ready.
But the Watch was not over. She looked at the skies, seeing the first stars, and made a short prayer to Desna. As she did a figure moved beside her. In the distance, over Virlych, lightning flashed and there was a distant rumble.
There be a wee chill, lass, an' a storm be brewin'.
Aye, she replied. Tha' certainly is
She turned and entered into the warmth of Fort Fireheart.

All stories end, and I think this one is there. But there will be other stories told, games played.