GM SpiderBeard's Curse of the Crimson Throne (Inactive)

Game Master Barvo Delancy

I understand the rat. Born in squalor, he must fend for himself at a young age. He climbs over his brothers and sisters for food, for space; when there is too little of either, he sets himself apart with his strength. His cunning. His teeth, too...

The words slip quietly back into Sevenspawn's memory, drifting away as quickly as they come. Was it a dream? He remembers... no, it's gone now, before the street priest even finishes rushing to Raven Six's side.

With the wererat well within range, Sevenspawn sighs quietly and begins invoking Doom - casting whether or not Girrigz surrenders.

***

A shaken character takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls, saving throws, skill checks, and ability checks.

Happy confusing site update! Bless is still active.

KABLAM!

Raven Six's crossbow bolt flies right into Girrigz's face and he lets out a horrific squeal as it blows up at him. Thod tries a vial of alchemist fire but it sails high overhead, exploding against the far wall.

Sevenspawn indeed knows the ways of the rat, and as he prays to his goddess he feels Girrigz's resolve crumble.

"F-fight me properly!" he squeaks before grabbing a potion and downing it.

Girrigz drank a potion and took a 5' step. Raven did not get her crit, but he's still hurt. Everyone is up!

"In this case, 'properly' seems to be an artificial qualifier, meant to establish an advantage when facing enemies using a mode of combat with which you are ill-equipped to deal," Raven Six says as she calmly loads another explosive bolt. "If you feel you are incapable of winning, you are free to surrender."

If the wererat still fails to surrender, the Alchemist fires yet again...

Explosive missile, away! Attack roll 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17 for 1d8 ⇒ 7 piercing and 2d6 + 4 ⇒ (5, 4) + 4 = 13 BOOM!

Sevenspawn draws forth his Wand of Spiritual Weapon, growling some arcane words lowly before a large, glowing morningstar appears nearby.

"As she says," the priest yells, referring to Raven Six's comment. "We have no desire to kill any more today. Lay down your arms and surrender, and we can talk!"

***

I assume my action is to create the weapon and can't attack the same round with it, but if that's not the case, I'd like to hold my action in case he surrenders. My trigger would be Girrigz attacking. Spiderbeard, if you could create the morningstar on the map, I'd like it halfway between us and him.

Not having seen an attack on Donnell, I'm going to assume that "(shaken) (-12)" is meant to refer to Girrigz

Popping back into view, Donnell takes two shots at the wererat:
LXB1: 1d20 + 9 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (7) + 9 + 2 - 2 = 161d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

LXB2: 1d20 + 9 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (3) + 9 + 2 - 2 = 121d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

"Thod! Stay next to us, please. Throw something again, if you can."

Thod seems to agree with the group sentiment, only advancing far enough to form a defensive line in front of everyone else.

"You heard 'em! Fair fight? We're giving you an easy surrender, that's fair, right?"

While moving forward, Thod pulls his silvered shortspear from his spear quiver and hurls it, while still gripping his halberd in his other hand.

MOVE: Move forward to form a barrier for the group. Draw shortspear while advancing.
STANDARD: Chuck shortspear.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (9) + 6 + 1 - 2 = 14
Damage: 1d6 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (5) + 3 - 1 = 7

"DIE YOU SCUM! I WILL GIVE YOU MY GIFT AND YOU WILL SERVE ME FOREVER!!"

He's clearly insane, and so Sevenspawn wallops him with the spiritual weapon. As Girrigz spins to regard the morning star he just, JUST avoids an exploding bolt from Raven Six. Donnell and Thod have similar luck with their missile weapons.

Girrigz squeals in pain but sets his sights on Thod and charges right for him. However, he almost falls on his face as he tries to deal with the injuries and hostile magic. As he closes in with Thod, missing his attack wildly, the grenade behind him explodes, showing him with silver pellets. He shrieks again, and just continues fighting madly.

He's not surrendering. Everyone is up!. Sevenspawn, your spiritual weapon hits at +6 at +3 damage. The +6 is from your stats, the +3 is from the wand creator's.

Arg! Forgot to do Ranged Study last round!

Shaking his head in frustration, Donnell takes a beat to pick out weaknesses in Girrigz's defense.

Ranged Study
Studied Strike

LXB1: 1d20 + 9 + 2 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (6) + 9 + 2 + 2 - 2 = 17
Damage1: 1d6 + 1 + 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 1 + (4) + 2 = 9

LXB2: 1d20 + 9 + 2 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (13) + 9 + 2 + 2 - 2 = 24
Damage2: 1d6 + 1 + 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 1 + (5) + 2 = 9

Raven Six sends another Arrow winging Griggiz' way - and clicks her tongue with annoyance as the projectile goes wide.

Crossbow 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7. Well, drat.

Finding no pleasure in putting the creature down, Sevenspawn attempts to find purchase with the glowing morningstar.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Daamge: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

Let's hope that Thod rolls better than the rest of us (or that I start remembering to use Donnell's skills properly - I could have added another 1d6 to that attack roll...

Donnell takes a moment to orient himself and this time he manages to nail Girrigz with a bolt of his own. Girrigz does manage to dodge the spiritual weapon however.

Thod and Sevenspawn are up! Sevenspawn, your morningstar is on autoattack and you have a full round of actions available to you.

Thod reaffirms his grip on his silvered halberd and interposes himself in between Girrigs and Donnell.

"What's with all you stinkin' rats!? Here we are, trying to be polite, and you gotta throw our kindness back in our faces? Really PISSES ME OFF!"

5ft. step right. Re-enter rage. Guarded Stance. Power Attack. Swing.
CURRENT ATTACK BONUSES: +12
+5 Base
+3 Normal Strength.
+2 Raging
+2 Bull's Strength
+1 Bless
+1 Masterwork
-2 Power Attack

CURRENT DAMAGE BONUSES: +16
+3 Normal strength
+2 Rage
+2 Bull's Strength
+3 Two-handing
+6 Two-handing Power Attack

Attack: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (13) + 12 = 25
Damage: 1d10 + 16 ⇒ (10) + 16 = 26

Current AC: 17. Rage rounds remaining: 11

Oh, right! Right.

Sevenspawn hefts his own war mallet and charges forth, careful to leave enough space for Raven Six to fire from a distance.

Attack: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

Map is updated.

Thod rips a wound into Girrigz with his halberd while Sevenspawn charges in. Unfortunately the swift wererat manages to parry the attack. Squealing with rage, Girrigz just keeps on attacking, focusing on Thod. His rapier whips about with supreme skill, and Thod is stabbed twice deeply. The wererat looks to be on his last legs, having taken several brutal wounds.

Thod takes 27 damage from a hit and a crit! Everyone is up!

Rage remaining: 10

A bit of tactical thinking is able to force its way into Thod's thought process, and he maneuvers around Girrigz to pin him in between himself and Sevenspawn. And then continues to swing, yelling about decorum and courtesy. He flinches a little from the stabs, and they are leaking rather nastily, but it mostly seems to anger the burly dwarf even more.

It's possible this won't flank, however, if Girrigz is a high enough level rogue to avoid being flanked. I will roll normally, and the DM can add a flanking bonus afterwards if it applies and/or matters.

Attack: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13
Damage: 1d10 + 16 ⇒ (1) + 16 = 17

Wow, impressively awful.

Everyone but Thod is up!

Raven Six considers her options - and fits a silver bolt to her crossbow.
"Pharasma, Lady of the Bones, guide my aim," she prays out loud. "Brigh, Whisper in the Bronze, bless Amy equipment."
And the Alchemist fires.

Ranged attack 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 for 1d8 ⇒ 7 damage.

Apparently, the goddesses have other matters keeping them busy.

The shining beacon of a weapon moves towards the wererat again, lashing out with a crushing blow.

Spiritual Weapon Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Not wanting to give up his flaking position opposite Thod but seeing his heavy wounds, Sevenspawn lets the warhammer fall in the loop around his wrist and clutches his holy symbol before sending out a wave of healing energy to the dwarf and other allies.

Channel Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (3, 5, 3) = 11

As Sevenspawn gets ready to send out a channel energy, his spiritual morningstar crunches Girrigz in the back of the head, killing him instantly. The Everbloom has passed her own judgement.

End of Combat

Sevenspawn gathers everyone and sends out his healing energy.

You take a moment to go over the room and Girrigz's possessions:

- 2 brown potions
- 1 smoky potion
- 1 blue potion
- enchanted chain shirt
- enchanted mithral rapier
- 230 gp

Donnell's Perception: 1d20 + 11 + 1d6 ⇒ (15) + 11 + (5) = 31

Donnell sniffs out some more interesting items as he explores the room. Amid the rotted food, coils of modly rope, and threadbare cloaks there is a small arsenal here, likely for Girrigz's dreamed-of attack on the suface.

- 22 daggers
- 12 short swords
- 3 light crossbows
- 60 crossbow bolts
- 4 chain shirts
- 12 flasks of lachemist's fire
- 1 mw longsword
- 1 mw suit of chainmail
- 4 more blue potions
- 1 magical pearl
- a magical glass bottle

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Sevenspawn bends on one knee and gives thanks quietly. Though Girrigz's planned uprising was far from righteous, rebellion remains Milani's sphere and so the priest asks for the safe passage of Girrigz's soul.

Holding his holy symbol, he channels healing energy once more a moment later.

Channel Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (1, 2, 4) = 7

Rising, he takes a look at Thod's remaining wounds for signs of lycanthropy and heals up the rest with his wand.

Heal: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
Wand of Cure Wounds: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

"It would seem we have a place to make your antitoxin,"[/b, he says to Raven Six. [b]"Much work lies ahead of us." He looks to the rest. "What now, friends?"

Still here, waiting for others to post.

"Good," Raven says, solemnly. "I do think though, that these are poor resources for a revolution. Girrigz was deluded. Unless these potions are more impressive than they seem."

The Alchemist starts to carefully examine the bottles.

Craft (alchemy): brown potions 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (1) + 14 = 15; smoky potion 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (13) + 14 = 27; blue potion 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (5) + 14 = 19

Brown potion: Craft Alchemy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (2) + 11 = 13
Smoky potion: Craft Alchemy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12
Blue potion: Craft Alchemy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

Looking at the arsenal skeptically: "I don't know Raven6, there are enough weapons here for dozens or fighters - if he had the wherewithal to plan surgical strikes, using the sewers to ambush and hide, this could have been a dangerous revolt. Let's ask Zellara to identify these other items for us, otherwise I can work on it in the morning. In the mean time, let's gather this up and let Eries know what has happened.

While packing up the gear, Donnell will also take a look at the map to see if he can decipher what Girrigz was planning (or, more specifically, if he already has strike teams in place).

"Twelve swords and twelve bottles of alchemist's fire? Forgive me if I remain skeptical, friend Donnell. But then, I am not a master of small team battle-tactics."

"That, and twenty-two daggers each held by a wererat that is will to "share its gift" makes a sizeable force. I'll grant you, the guards would make short work of them, but there's enough equipment here for about three dozen - imagine a force that size charging through a crowded market, attacking Korvosans randomly and with malice. The chaos and panic would be devastating."

"Ah. Yes. True. However, I would posit their capacity for causing mayhem would sharply decrease, given that it is public knowledge silver will handily deal with a therianthrope."

Donnell turns his attention to map, muttering about how the aristocracy never seems to understand that silver isn't exactly easy to acquire when you are just trying to find enough to eat...

:D

"Understood," Raven Six says, placidly. "However, I am not an aristocrat. I work for a living. And I was referring more to the guard's ability to acquire silver weaponry."

Thod takes a breather, and helps gather the weaponry and durable items, wrapping/bagging/otherwise packing them together for easy(ier) transport.

"I should like a rapier," Sevenspawn says aloud as the weapons are gathered, pointing at one in Thod's arms. "Not necessarily that one - it looks like it would be worth more to us sold, to support the antiplague efforts, say. But should we come across one down the road, keep me top of mind."

Trying to keep the humour out of his eyes (as he juxtaposes images of this hard-bitten cleric with rapier-wielding bravos and dandies): "If you want a rapier, I say go with the magic one."

"Indeed. Please help yourself; no one else has staked a claim. Take it."

I mean, let's make sure it isn't cursed first, but yeah - have at it!

I've been doing this a bit on other games, and I'm just going to implement this house rule. Low level magic items get auto identified. It just wastes time which is a resource in PbP.

Alas Sevenspawn, clerics don't normally know how to use rapiers. If you wanted to learn rapier you'd need to spend a feat, or drop a level in a martial class like fighter.

You identify the items as:

- 2 potions of bear's endurance
- potion of blur
- 4 potions of cure light wounds
- a pearl of power (level 2)
- +1 chain shirt
- +1 rapier

Donnell takes a moment to look over Girrigz' war plans. one thing he does notice is an excellent map of the sewer system has been cobbled together here, which may be a good way to move through the city unnoticed when necessary (at a hygenic cost).

Girrgiz's plans seemed to be sporadic terrorist attacks, starting in poorer areas like Old Korvosa. The goal was to give 'the gift' to as many people as possible in order to create an army. As it stood, there were many "I NEED MORE SOLDIERS" notes written angrily. It seems his plan never came to fruition.

----

With your newfound information and a huge haul of gear, you make your way out of the sewers, spending an inordinate amount of time bringing up bundles of equipment. You come out of the sewers in Old Korvosa, not too far from Eel's End where you can stow the huge amount of heavy equipment.

At that point, you seek out your contact Eries Yellowyeyes. The older wererat is bittersweet at the news, happy that Girrgiz is dead, but greatly saddened by the lives lost in the melee.

"You did your best," she squeaks sadly. "And you showed mercy where you could. Thank you." She passes you a large key. "The warehouse is on 43 Hawthorne Way, just down the road there. It's in good condition. Furthermore, let the bankers know that the bodies will be dealt with - do not tell them how of course. They will not tolerate us. My people are immune to the plague and will function are corpsebearers in Old Korvosa."

With that, your mission is complete and you have secured not only a vital spare for your antiplague manufacturing plan, but assistance in clearing out dead bodies, a growing concern in the city.

---

It is now midday as your trek into the sewers took you the better part of the day. Your last known loose end is the perfumery selling snake oil plague cures - a potentially dangerous way to undermine your own antiplague plans. You are of course free to pursue your own theories and plans for the antiplague business.

Were we able to id the magical glass bottle?
(Speaking of, Donnell still has a silver dagger that once showed up as magical - is that just a regular silver dagger, or is he using it wrong?)

I will have to look back, but I thought we had other ideas to pursue as well.
Minimally, Donnell will want to see if the Bank has had any luck repairing the book we found on the ship.

Yes, I realize a rapier is a martial weapon and not a simple one, but I figured I'd take a level in Rogue soon anyway.

"We must see the bankers," Sevenspawn agrees later, having strapped the rapier to the outside of his pack for now. "If there is anything to the idea that gold is involved in this illness, I hope they will know by now."

"I should like a rapier," Sevenspawn says aloud as the weapons are gathered, pointing at one in Thod's arms. "Not necessarily that one - it looks like it would be worth more to us sold, to support the antiplague efforts, say. But should we come across one down the road, keep me top of mind."

"Naaah, go ahead and take it."

Thod gives a quick examination of the blade. One might expect a disparaging sneer at the thin blade, but Thod simply regards it.

"Not a bad blade. Not my style, but there's something to be said for makin' a single strike, instead of hammering away. Think there's a human saying about that. How'd it go? 'An ounce of bird is worth a stitched hand?' No, that wasn't it... 'Time saves two pounds in the bush...' No, that wasn't it. Ahh, I forget what humans say. Dwarven slogan, though. En enkelt streik med en hakke kan omta et fjell. A single strike with a pick axe can bring down a mountain. So good idea switching to a pickaxe, there. Good tool for mining."

-----

"After the bankers, maybe we should go shut down that perfume place selling piss and perfume as a cure."

Donnell looks chagrined at the mention of the perfumery: "I wish that was something we could just ignore, but I've got a bad feeling about the place. I'm guessing nobody wants to just break in during the night and trash the place..."

Glancing from face to face, and not seeing any uptake: "Ah well. Perhaps we could go nearer the end of the day, to minimize confrontations with (and interference from) the general public?"

"On the contrary," Raven Six says, her expression stony. "I want to shout that woman's perfidiousness from the rooftops and see the people tear her shop down. Let her and her thugs flee the wrath of her dupes!"

"I wish that was something we could just ignore, but I've got a bad feeling about the place. I'm guessing nobody wants to just break in during the night and trash the place..."

Thod raises his hand.

"I'm okay with that. Hell, I'm okay with smashing in their door during the day and trashing the place... But, y'know, probably not the best thing to do."

"I want to shout that woman's perfidiousness from the rooftops and see the people tear her shop down. Let her and her thugs flee the wrath of her dupes!"

"Probably a better idea. But just shouting loud won't work. Well, it'll scare people away for as long as you're shouting, and then when the guards take you away they'll come back. And using big words doesn't help, either."

"We need some way to make people listen to us, like... like..."

"I have analyzed that woman's filth. I can recite the list of ingredients. Including the fecal matter," Raven Six says, her eyes still burning with unadulterated loathing.

Whoop! Glass bottle is a bottle of air

Got it SS

Deciding bankers first, then perfume, you make the trek back into the core of the city. The misery and panic of the city is unchanged, and you march as a tightly knit group, the fact Thod is a walking arsenal being good enough to keep you from being accosted by the countless scared and dying.

You eventually fight through the crowds to get into the Bank of Abadar, where you get in touch with your contact Ishani. He's a miserable wreck of a man, but seems happy to see you.

"Friends, how can I help you?"

"Hey Ishani, we have a short report for ya. Some friends of ours are going to look after corpse disposal in Old Korvosa. And we've managed to track down space (warehouse and ship), equipment (2 sets of alchemical equipment), and staff (Cerulean Society) for our venture into the anti-plague business."

Now it's your turn - tell us some good news, will ya? Specifically:
- How's my book doing?
- Have you had any luck convincing your superiors to stake us in our save-the-city-from-the-plague venture?
- What did you discover when you investigated Sevenspawn's theory about infected coins?

Possibly I've left things out, or doubled up on questions we already have answers to... Feel free to let me know!

Ishani blinks at Donnell before he nods quickly, leading you into a small office where he collapses into a chair. He is clearly exhausted, but looks excited.

"There's so much going on... my request to seek funding for your venture was referred to Arbiter Zenderholm, and nobody can find the woman! She works out of the Longacre Building, and last I heard the Gray Maidens were involved in some way. She's one of the most powerful Bankers in the city, and not one to go missing. Anyways, that's internal church business. The best answer I have is that we're working on it."

He lets out a breath. "Now, coins. This was interesting. Yes. I prepared a simple detect disease spell, and obtained permission to visit the vault. Sure enough, I detected several silver coins that were infected! Although it is possible they were infected by being handled, they were too strongly and uniformly diseased. I can't imagine how this came about!"

He then rifles through his desk, and pulls out a parchment hastily scribbled with notes. "And we've had some luck on your book... which was horrifying, let me tell you. It was titled Serving Your Hunger, the sacred text to Urgathoa the goddess of disease, death, and physical - ah - excess. Its contents are disgusting - prayers and recipes on how to eat people, consort with undead, and even transform oneself into the undead. Also, notably whenever the word 'Urgathoa' is in the book, somebody scratched it out and wrote 'Andaisin'. That name means nothing to us unfortunately."

He slides a bag of money across the table. "Getting funds for antiplague is a misery, but the church is happy to buy things - here five hundred gold for the book."

Rubbing his fingers together, Donnell eyes the presumably sizeable! bag of gold as he tries to keep his thoughts from flying in three different directions at once.

Shrugging, he looks up at Raven Six: "That's a lot of money but... would you rather have the book? Do you need it for your research?"

Also, Knowledge Religion: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 7 + (5) = 18

And, to give Raven Six a chance to mull that over, he refocuses on the cleric: "Without the church's backing, we won't be able to pursue our antiplague operation. Perhaps that would only make a small dent in the damage this plague is causing, but it is one that we have committed to. You know this - let's not prevaricate - we can find your Arbiter, if you need us to."

"Finally, and most importantly, the coins. This would seem to be the key to the mystery. How was this done? Can it be reversed? Hmm... no, sending the cure around the city via coins would take too long. Can the magic be dispelled city-wide? But that would require high priests or masters at the Academae, or possibly both working together...?"

Let me know if there are other Knowledge checks I can roll here - Arcana, maybe?

"I do not," Raven Six says with obvious distaste. "I venerate, besides Brigh, Pharasma, the Queen of the Bones."

The Alchemist's eyes do that eerie thing where her pupils dilate -- contract -- dilate -- and then utters a small sigh.
"On which note," she says as she strips off the black robe she had been wearing over her regular attire, "I should like to ask that the faithful of Abadar dispose of this item in as efficient and sanctified a method as possible. I am willing to pay for it."

It occurred to me only today that as a worshiper of Pharasma, Raven Six really shouldn't have been prepared to use the Robe of Bones. ^^;

Donnell starts to rub at his temples as a headache sets in. Did she just offer to pay them to take the Robe off her hands!
Not quite understanding this devotion to various deities (though, having met SS, he is beginning to understand their usefulness), Donnell raises a somewhat shaky hand to the robe to forestall Raven Six: "I ... uh... meaning no disrespect... I think I can probably find a place for that at no cost to you." At the low, low cost of a thousand gold in my pocket, in fact...

Turning back to Ishani: "If your superiors will permit it, I should like to peruse the book." He adds hastily: "Not for anything unseemly! I simply have a curiosity and I wish to understand how this piece of the puzzle fits into the current plague situation. Perhaps we could consider it a loan?"

"No offense to you, alpha male Halfling Donnell, but upon reflection its place is in a fire," Raven Six says. "I should not have been willing to use its power. Undeath is an abomination. A violation of the natural cycles, not an improvement thereupon. We agreed the robe was mine to have. I shall dispose of it as I decide. At no cost to you."

The Alchemist draws herself up to her full height and her look becomes abstracted. "The place of Urgathoa in this is ... not difficult to surmise. The 'pallid princess' is the mother of pestilence. Her clergy and other devotees would be prime engineers of such things. Well capable of turning them into weapons of intent."

She ain't gonna budge on this.

Donnell raises his hands in surrender: "Fine, fine. No offense meant. As always, my interest was purely academic."

No worries, Donnell just doesn't understand devotion to deities :)