GMTrex's PFS [Standard] Echoes of the Everwar Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master Andrew Trexler

Str Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5

Though the Inheritor gives Omrax strength, he can't help but feel that power slipping away as his arms numb. Like the rest of his companions, his sword seems a puny knife trying to cut through solid rock, only landing a single substantial blow. Quinn does sink his blade in before collapsing in the monster's jaws, but its of little consequence. Mrachni does not manage to find a soft spot at all and his growl appears to be the most effective assault--attracting the glare of the great singular eye.

Bite AoO @ Sareth: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (11) + 20 = 31 HIT Damage: 4d8 + 18 ⇒ (2, 8, 5, 4) + 18 = 37

Sareth risks the approach and takes some very sharp teeth to show for it. Realizing his chance, he stabs the creature in the eye and it finally lies still, tendrils falling limp but not detaching of their own accord.

Out of initiative!

The pristine body sunk into its stony hide is difficult to detach, but the group manages it without incident. In the cavity left behind is a magical staff, and another simple ring graces her finger among the 8412gp-worth of intricate jewelry that adorns her body.

You have what you came for. Now how do you get out? :P

Sareth offers the healing heat of the Dawnflower. "let's sleep here tonight. I think we'll be safe. Come the dawn, I'll ask the Goddess for some spells to help us out."

Once Quinn is awake, "brave. Truly. Welcome back to the mortal coil. "

-Posted with Wayfinder

Mrachni nods solemnly, his lips moving in a prayer of thanksgiving. "I will keep watch," he rumbles softly. "Rest, and let no dreams trouble your minds."

Also got healing for anyone who needs it.

Will assume someone heals Quinn before he bleeds out, even if it's just using his wand or something.

Groggy from the previous day and thankful for the rest, Quinn sets about thinking for a way to get out. He keeps returning to possibly using the thing's tendrils as a makeshift rope. "Provided they don't keep stinging us and if they're sturdy enough, we may be able to fashion something... It's just a matter of getting out of this pit."

"Strong work team. I feel weakened by the creature's touch. I suspect Sir Quinn as well. Resting may be the wisest course if we think we have cleared the area. I also can provide healing to any in need."

Omrax will scan for evil once more and will rest to change spells and recover a spell to help fly out in the morning. That and a couple lesser restorations to regain his strength.

He has 6 lay hands left if the clerics channels/spells are not enough

lesser restore: 1d4 ⇒ 3

lesser restore: 1d4 ⇒ 1

"Aye, Ahh can offer yae some healing, mae friends. First tae get Quinn back on his feet."

Cure Moderate Wounds: 2d8 + 9 ⇒ (1, 6) + 9 = 16

Next, Skybek will raise his hands and call down the dive power of Cayden Cailean to channel healing energy over the party.

Channel Energy: 5d6 ⇒ (3, 4, 3, 6, 3) = 19

I have plenty left. A few channels, and at least 2 empowered cure critical and 2 empowered mass cure light. Can't get to sheet now though.

-Posted with Wayfinder

Alright, seems like you've got a plan.

The Pathfinder expedition decides to set up camp inside the dome for the night and tries to find sleep beneath the running images of Goka, the Verduran Forest, the Eye of Abendango, and countless other scenes from across Golarion. In the morning they take a painful step back outside the bubble and liberally apply fly spells to reach the long-forgotten riddled cellar far above. From there it is a long but uneventful journey back home to Sothis.

Part II complete! I'll get Chronicles out tomorrow.

EPISODE III

TERROR AT WHISTLEDOWN

Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir of the Sothis Lodge in Osirion has always been friendly and courteous--especially when he wants something. After affording his most accomplished agents a week's rest following their successful return from Cheliax, he summons them to his office and greets them with tea and a platter of sweetcakes. It comes as no surprise that his next words are details of a new mission.

"Rumors stir in Varisia, rumors of a long-lost Osirian concubine named Kamilah and her fantastic treasure. According to my sources, her tomb lies somewhere near the lakeside community of Whistledown, on Lake Syrantula. While mere tomb-raiding is beneath Pathfinders of your experience and skill, my sources claim that this concubine wore a simple silver ring bearing Osirian glyphs, and wielded the famous silver sword, Desert Raven. The ring, historians say, commands ancient and forgotten powers and is likely connected to these other rings you have returned--" he leaves unsaid the pristine bodies that had come attached "--and likely quite dangerous. Go to Whistledown and find the concubine's body as well as her ring and sword. Return them to me, and your glory in the Chronicles shall grow ever deeper."

Sareth arrives functionally dressed as always. He looks no different other than a new hilt on his worn scimitar.

What, if anything, do I already know of the Lady, the Desert Raven, and/or the ring? Knowledge (History): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16, Knowledge (Nobility): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12.

"Consider it down. I long for a mission that keeps me in Sarenrae's warm light, but I'm eager to make these recoveries. Do we know anything of what to expect?"

Sareth is otherwise completely ready to go. Preparing Air Walk this time.

Quinn nods, a new style of headband encircling his ears. "Recovering powerful items and keeping them out of the hands which would misuse it is always our duty. Now you know it will get done. Erm, even if it takes a while for us to get ourselves out of pits..."

He then sits back, closes his eyes, and tries to recall anything about the concubine and the region.
History: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Local: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Nobility: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

"Aye, Ahh'm gettin the hangin o' this treasure huntin business. Ahh think Crimzor is ready tae proceed."

"Not a clue." Balentiir admits. "But I expect you can handle yourselves."

A thought itches the inside of Quinn's head. Something about Desert Raven being among the more famous blades forged and employed during the Everwar.

I'll give a little more time to folks and get us moving tomorrow.

Mrachni nods his acknowledgement, somber as ever.

"Our duty is to the Society. You have my oath It shall be done. ." says without hesitation.

After a pause he looks to his companions then back to the Venture captain.

"Shall we bear responsibility for transport and provisions for the tip or have thou made necessary arrangements? ."

Okay, that's everybody.

Balentiir opens a drawer and throws a packet onto his desk. "That's them there. Good luck!"

The long journey back to Avistan is uneventful, first by ship to Magnimar and then by river barge up the Yondabakari River before the small town of Whistledown heaves into sight. A ragged dog picks its way along the outskirts of the small, wooded community that runs along the edge of a vast, still Lake Syrantula stretching far into the grey horizon. Wide, overhanging branches of the tall juniper trees scattered throughout the community shade the simple white cottages that make up the homes. Wooden chimes hang from the eaves of nearly every dwelling, clinking gently in the light afternoon breeze. The townsfolk, a mix of gnomes and humans, go about their business with a scarcely concealed tension, tossing nervous glances over their shoulders and ushering children hurriedly indoors at the party's passing. After several minutes of greetings abruptly cut short, an amber-haired gnome with sharp features and an interesting tattoo on his cheek comes streaking for the new arrivals. "Brave travelers, surely you must be hungry and thirsty after so many hours on the high road! I am Adagre Bagalom, town magistrate. I beseech you to listen to my tale, perhaps over a pint of ale and a warm meal at our inn? My treat, of course!"

"Yondabakari. Many people died here not to long ago. That business in Turtleback Ferry..." Sareth doesn't elaborate, but he does offer words to Sarenrae.

Sareth stares hard at the gnome. (Does he recognize the "strange tattoo?) "There's a black wind in this town, something pulling the air taught. Come let us speak."

Does Sareth have a feel for what the tension is? Are the people scared of us? Are they distrustful of us? Is these the townsfolk at the beginning of every episode of the A-Team?

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (17) + 11 = 28

Greetings and well met Lord Bagalom. I cannot accept ale but the warm meal would be most welcome. Tell us of your tale and what troubles your people? Omrax bows and smiles to the magistrate then awaits his response.

• I will learn the weight of my sword. Without my heart
to guide it, it is worthless—my strength is not in my
sword, but in my heart. If I lose my sword, I have lost a
tool. If I betray my heart, I have died.

• I will have faith in the Inheritor. I will channel her
strength through my body. I will shine in her legion,
and I will not tarnish her glory through base actions.

Does he recognize the "strange tattoo?

You tell me (see Map). I haven't played through any modules/APs in Varisia.

Real post in a bit.

The gnome shakes his head and grins. "Not Lord -- just magistrate. Please, this way!" Adagre leads the company through windy streets to a local inn with a sign out front that reads, Thagin's Rest. Inside, he calls for stew and ale. "Barkeep! One, two... five... Five stews and four, uh, large beers please!"

Service is quick and Adagre waves off any questions until the Pathfinders have had a moment to eat and drink. Then he begins. "I don't know why you came here, but I'm glad you did. Evil has come to our town. A week ago, the first of our neighbors vanished: fishermen who rose before dawn for the morning’s catch out on the lake. Then the following night, old Margatha was taken from her cottage, her front door smashed to splinters. Every night since, someone else is taken. Finally, last night, our militia had enough. They decided to set an ambush in the market. There were ten of them in all..." The gnome closes his eyes and shudders throughout his small frame. "I can still hear their screams. We don’t know what we are going to do. We have no more warriors among us. We are a simple people."

He opens his eyes and looks to the Pathfinders with a pleading expression. "Will you help us?”

"Ten what? We were sent her to find a tomb, but yours is the more pressing matter. So I ask again, ten of what?"

"Ten militiamen, I'm guessing," Quinn whispers to Sareth.

To their host, he smiles a gleeful smile, seeming to wrap entirely around his muzzle. "Well, it would seem someone is casting us in new roles. For now, at least. We will certainly aid you in this. And, we ask for nothing in return but information about the task which brought us here. But that can wait until this dreadful business is completed. Quinn Kouniashi, by the by. Pleasure to make an acquaintance."

-Posted with Wayfinder

Adagre shudders again. "Ten men... when we dared to leave our doors in the morning, we found only broken arms and dented helmets in the pools of congealed blood..."

Quinn's eyes widen. "I do hope you mean arms as in armaments, weapons. Not actual severed limbs... though the latter would create quite a mystery."

-Posted with Wayfinder

Omrax stands up at the end of the story and looks keenly at the magistrate.

"That is an outrage! By the Inheritor, we shall put an end to these evil raids on your village. The perpetrators shall be brought to justice."

He sits back down, still fuming slightly.

Were there any tracks from the scene? Any other clues or eyewitnesses to the massacre?

"Aye Quinn. Let's stop this."

"Aye, mae axe, Crimzor, and Ahh are willin tae help, especially after treatin us tae some fine ale here in a house tae mak Cayden Cailean smile."

Mrachni nods slowly. "Justice will be done."

"Clues?" Adagre seems confused. Then it hits him. "Clues! What a capital idea! Um, well, we don't really have a private eye in town, you know. But maybe that's something you can look into!"

You can make one Perception or Survival check by searching around town for clues.

Perception : 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

"I am no tracker, but I shall look around for signs of these villains ."

Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (1) + 14 = 15

Quinn is highly distracted throughout the search, but even he notices some claw marks splintering and marring the door frame on one of the home. "Hmmm, seems these attackers had big and powerful claws, more so than any normal human I've come across. Or fellow kitsune, for that matter. Or gnome. Or halfling. Heh heh, especially a halfling."

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (9) + 11 = 20

"When it comes tae searchin fer clues, it's mostly aboot common sense. Look at these marks on the door tae the hoose. Not only dae the attackers possess monstrous and beast like strength these footprints suggest that at least five folk are involved in the attacks. Quinn, Ahh think we're safe tae rule oot wee halflings."

Sareth doesn't really do this sort of thing, and fumbles about somewhat haphazardly, 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (5) + 11 = 16.

I'm assuming Omrax shares. "Let us go to the lake. Mayhaps something there can give us answers."

Can't hit a 30 unless scent gives me some bonus. :)

Mrachni nods in agreement with the others, chuckling once in his soft rumble at the mention of halflings.

The party investigates the lakeshore too and turns up nothing that piques their interest. Night is quickly falling, and the townsfolk lock their doors well ahead of sundown. It's time for the Pathfinders to make their battle plans.

Go ahead and place your pogs on the map in whatever arrangement you wish, and make any plans you'd like.

"I say we find places to hide and simply wait. Those who are adept at ambushes attack first, and I'll assume the cries of our injured foes are the signal to attack."

Sareth takes up a position where he can get his spells into play most easily.

Quinn nods at Sareth's suggestion and hops atop one of the stalls. He also shakes off his furry form and presses in his muzzle to resemble a normal Tien man. He keeps his golden eyes peeled for any activity in the town as he settles in for the coming watch.

Sorry, yes, Omrax would share. Lost connectivity last night

Agreed. I am more than happy to volunteer to sit in the middle of town as a potential victim if that helps.

He proposes to cover himself in a large hooded cloak and stand in the center of town while the others watch.

"Omrax, Ahh ken that yae hae the reputation o' bein bold, but if they took ten o' them last night, Ahh wid be worried aboot havin yae sit all alone oot here. At the very least, lemmae sit next tae yae and they can attack the both o' us. Besides, Ahh nae tae good at sneakin aboot. Ahh'm much better at grippin Crimzor and lettin mae axe gae intae battle."

"Master Skybek , my intention was not to let them drag me off. That is where the rest of you would gain the upper hand by surprise. Nevertheless, you are welcome to join me and together we can lure the enemy into the desired strategic position."

Several hours tick by after the sun descends below the horizon. The Pathfinders wait, listening for every noise among the wind and the chimes...

Spoiler alert: we're about to start combat (shock). I'm absolutely exhausted today so I'm going to do it tomorrow. Sorry. This will give everyone a chance to roll Stealth if they want and a Perception check. And allow Mrachni to pick where to start. :)

Omrax waits in the center of town, huddled under his hooded cloak.

Not trying to be stealthy but can roll disguise if needed.

He keeps an eye out for would be assailants.

perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

Much obleeged, though I wouldn't have you all waiting on my account alone. Placed myself.

Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (6) + 14 = 20
Stealth: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17
Going to take 20 on stealth, getting the perfect hiding spot... for an 18.

FYI, moonlight provides dim light throughout for this encounter. Keep that in mind for your vision.

"Well, well, isn't this nice," comes a dry voice from the darkness of the night. "I smell five fresh slaves... yes, two in the center, and three trying to hide. But I see you!"

Into the moonlight steps a pale figure dressed in a Tien style, an unusual sight this far inland in Avistan. "Shall we get started?" he asks, masking the sound of shattering wood to the north and south of the square.

From each within a market store to the north and south come a pair of skeletons bearing a massive of coiled entrails in their bony frames, long pale gets snaking up out of their jaws like a clawed tongue. DC 18 Knowledge (Religion) to identify. Bone fists smash into Mrachni and Sareth!

Slam @ Mrachni: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (17) + 15 = 32 HIT Damage: 2d8 + 5 ⇒ (8, 7) + 5 = 20 plus Grab: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (2) + 19 = 21 SUCCESS

Slam @ Sareth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (11) + 15 = 26 HIT Damage: 2d8 + 5 ⇒ (5, 4) + 5 = 14 plus Grab: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (18) + 19 = 37 SUCCESS

Both Pathfinders find themselves gripped in a tight embrace by their disgusting assailant.

Round I -- bold may act!
1. Skeletons (both grappled)
2. Sareth (79/93 hp, grappled), Quinn
3. Man, ???
4. Omrax, Skybek, Mrachni (55/75 hp, grappled)

Mrachni will do one better, and take 20 on Stealth for a 14.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15 Also have darkvision and scent.
Knowledge (Religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

They're mohrgs, made from the souls of only the most violent mass murders. Their tongues are their most potent weapons, capable of paralyzing all but the most hardy. One question.

Special defenses/vulnerabilities?