Human Cleric 1 | HP 10/10 | AC 17; Tch 11; FF 16 | F +1; R +1; W +6 | CMB+0; CMD 11 | Speed 30 ft | Init +1 | Unarmed Strike: +4 (1d3+1) | Perc +3
"This shrine," Jidai says. "It seems strange to me to honor the delusional. They thought they were gods. Perhaps this is a dead-end, but we did have other leads. Let us try the gnome. Perhaps he will know something."
|AC 17, T 13, FF 15|HP: 32/32|F +2, R +4, W +4 (+2 vs shadow; +1 vs LD/sonic)|Init +2, Perc +8|CMB 0 CMD 12|Phrenic 7/7, Blurred Form 5/5, Gaseous Form 5/5, Shadow Speaker 4/4, Light\Dark 1/1, Detect Thoughts 1/1
"Correction: They thought they were qualified to become gods. Do you think the gods themselves are delusional? What about those who passed the Test?"
"To accuse one of delusion is to raise the specter of the twilight zone: Is the one delusional...or is the other blind?"
|AC 17, T 13, FF 15|HP: 32/32|F +2, R +4, W +4 (+2 vs shadow; +1 vs LD/sonic)|Init +2, Perc +8|CMB 0 CMD 12|Phrenic 7/7, Blurred Form 5/5, Gaseous Form 5/5, Shadow Speaker 4/4, Light\Dark 1/1, Detect Thoughts 1/1
Once again, Xanac studies the contents of the altar, such as they are.
Tsschas will aid the others as he can, teh ways of these city dwellers and warmbloods are indeed strange though their ways are yet interesting.
"Shall we not search this place carefully before deciding?"
After a careful (looong) search of Silmor's alcove, the party eventually discovers an illusory wall hiding a door with no handle, knob, keyhole, or latch. It does not respond to shoving and turns all attempts to simply break through it.
Armed with Fimbrik's home address, the party heads over to the Wise Quarter. A brick step leads to the front entrance of the richly-built stone house. Numerous stacks of newspapers--roughly 2 years’ worth of monthly copies--are piled around the door and crammed into a thin slot at its base. Each rounded corner of the building has a large picture window.
As Jidai knocks on the heavy wooden door, Agis and Tsschas head around the building to look in the windows. To the right of the door is a well-appointed library, where a richly-dressed gnome peruses his collection on a step-ladder, aged blue hair sticking out in all directions and back to the window.
If you continue around:
The next window reveals a smaller chamber that contains enough chairs, pillows, and desks to accommodate at least six visitors. After a moment of staring through the window, the same gnome from the previous room walks in and takes a seat to read a newspaper. The next two windows show a neatly arranged bedroom, currently vacant.
Louder knocking produces similar results: nothing. Tapping on the window of the study only induces the gnome to smile and tip his hat before returning to his newspaper.
|AC 17, T 13, FF 15|HP: 32/32|F +2, R +4, W +4 (+2 vs shadow; +1 vs LD/sonic)|Init +2, Perc +8|CMB 0 CMD 12|Phrenic 7/7, Blurred Form 5/5, Gaseous Form 5/5, Shadow Speaker 4/4, Light\Dark 1/1, Detect Thoughts 1/1
Xanac looks in the window at the gnome, his eyes narrowed....
detect magic/Spellcraft:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28
But of course, he thinks. What self-respecting Gnome wouldn't?
Jumping the gun to move things along:
"Correction: He's left his illusions behind to watch over the place."
Tsschas stares at Jillia's retreating back, shrugs and joins Agis in opening the door.
Strength Chek since I don't have Disable Device. 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15
Tsschas breaks the rusty iron lock that holds the door shut and shoves the door open. Inside is a nice sitting room, replete with comfortable chairs, a sofa, and neat stacks of yellowed newspapers piled near the door.
Place looks small enough. Agis goes about looking for clues as to his whereabouts or anything else of note. He uses telekinesis to move objects and prestidigitation to keep the dust off of himself.
Surprisingly, there is no dust to speak of. The room is remarkably well kept and clean. There is, however, a summoning circle that activates as soon as Agis steps next to the couch. A host of beetles appears!
NG Female Halfling Street Poet 7 | HP: 60/60 | AC: 23(18 Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 25 (26 v. Overrun) | F: +10, R: +9, W: +5 (+4 v. Fear) | Init: +6 | Perc: +2, SM: +4 | Speed 40ft | Challenge: 0/3 Used | Tactician: 0/2 Used| Panache 0/2 Used | Active conditions: Waiting for Game (???)
"Now we're getting somewhere! Let's clean these things up and see what they're trying to protect," Jillia calls, already in motion around the west end of the sofa.
Short Sword, Power Attack:1d20 + 7 - 1 ⇒ (3) + 7 - 1 = 9
She slides around the sofa, short sword out, but fails to find purchase on the blue beetle.
On the off chance 9 hits flat-footed AC: damage:1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
|AC 17, T 13, FF 15|HP: 32/32|F +2, R +4, W +4 (+2 vs shadow; +1 vs LD/sonic)|Init +2, Perc +8|CMB 0 CMD 12|Phrenic 7/7, Blurred Form 5/5, Gaseous Form 5/5, Shadow Speaker 4/4, Light\Dark 1/1, Detect Thoughts 1/1
Suddenly, one of the newspaper bundles goes flying across the room at the beetles attacking Jillia...
Agis curses his lack of control and training. He tries to dive over the beetle to give himself some space: Acrobatics:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12 When he gets clear he blasts a new paper at the green beetle. Blast:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22 THREAT
Confirm:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16 for DMG if crit:2d6 + 12 ⇒ (2, 6) + 12 = 20.
"Yes! Flying papers and Bugs. Strange but effctive guardians!"
sing his long spear, The Nagaji attempts to stab the cloest beetle.
StabSpear 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 231d8 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
NG Female Halfling Street Poet 7 | HP: 60/60 | AC: 23(18 Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +8, CMD: 25 (26 v. Overrun) | F: +10, R: +9, W: +5 (+4 v. Fear) | Init: +6 | Perc: +2, SM: +4 | Speed 40ft | Challenge: 0/3 Used | Tactician: 0/2 Used| Panache 0/2 Used | Active conditions: Waiting for Game (???)
"I'll take time to be impressed when I'm no longer being eaten, thanks," Jillia says, the smile on her face conveying more enjoyment than worry. "Hah," she says, stabbing into the closest blue beetle.
Short Sword, Power Attack:1d20 + 7 - 1 ⇒ (18) + 7 - 1 = 24 Short Sword, Power Attack:1d4 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 1 + 2 = 4
If that takes it out:
Jillia tumbles around to the backside of the red beetle.
Acrobatics:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
I can't move my token on my phone. Could someone move me around?
Agis leaps over a beetle and smashes a bundle of papers down on its carapace, crushing it into a gooey texture (which then vanishes). Jidai kicks another beetle and flips it over, allowing Jillia to stab it, and Tsschas impales the last one with his spear!
Out of combat!
Being young adventurers, the Pathfinders are quick to notice a pair of long-forgotten potions sitting on the nearby still. One has a blue-ish color, the other clear.
On a table in the southwest corner of the room is a neatly penned letter, left open and in plain view. See Handouts. On the back of the letter is written Doulgonlir Caskmail in block letters. A rudimentary search of the property reveals some more illusions but little else of interest.
Memory of the afternoon's earlier events returns slowly to the Pathfinders. Eventually, someone pipes up that they'd already checked out that name. It read:
Duongonlir Caskmail Deceased 4332 AR
Fought up all but one of the Storval Stairs. Blade shattered at an inopportune moment.
|AC 17, T 13, FF 15|HP: 32/32|F +2, R +4, W +4 (+2 vs shadow; +1 vs LD/sonic)|Init +2, Perc +8|CMB 0 CMD 12|Phrenic 7/7, Blurred Form 5/5, Gaseous Form 5/5, Shadow Speaker 4/4, Light\Dark 1/1, Detect Thoughts 1/1
|AC 17, T 13, FF 15|HP: 32/32|F +2, R +4, W +4 (+2 vs shadow; +1 vs LD/sonic)|Init +2, Perc +8|CMB 0 CMD 12|Phrenic 7/7, Blurred Form 5/5, Gaseous Form 5/5, Shadow Speaker 4/4, Light\Dark 1/1, Detect Thoughts 1/1
Xanac holds up the bluish potion. "Well, this is a restorative potion, a good strong one" Then he holds up the clear one. "Anyone else care to guess at this?"
The rest of the party thinks this is a capital plan, and sets off for the Ivy District, where foster's notes indicate Arkath was interred in a mausoleum.
1d4 ⇒ 4
Just past the gates of the grandiose graveyard, a woman in white robes bearing sun motifs confronts the Pathfinders with scimitar drawn. "You! What are you doing here?!"
