Hmm's Gallows of Madness : Foul Breed (Inactive)

Game Master Hmm

Braggett did a fantastic explanation of blocked initiative. It’s used to keep things from bogging down in Play-by-Post. If you are in the block that can act, I take your actions in post order.

Kragak, Wetbeard and Braggett work together to puree the lone bug. It is a spectacular teamwork involving whomping, skewering, and then dicing into many small pieces.

COMBAT OVER

As you ponder the evidence before you of pulsating purple goo, giant bugs, and a mighty struggle between two combatants... What do you do with it? Are there any experts you can consult? Where to next, team?

Lord Braggett looks at the ex-bug with a satisfied grin "Fine slicing, friends, but I fear the day is still far from saved." He turns to study the glowing trees "We must deal with the bile before we continue further, for if left unchecked, even a small amount of that purple goo can spread into a mess like this within weeks. Now it is this size, well, the entire orchard could be overrun in just days!" He claims as he draws his cold iron longsword, the blade of which bursts into flames as soon as it is free from the scabbard "I know of only two ways to deal with evil like this: cold iron and positive energy." He hops off of Sir Kibble and strides confidently towards the stricken trees "And I'm all out of positive energy!" Unfortunately, being but a humble knight, Braggett only knows that the goo is dangerous, and how to kill it. He leaves all other matters to the scholars.

Kragrak solemnly nods to Braggett. "W'can't let this spread. Good you know how to deal with this. I've never heard of anything like it. Cold iron and positive energy? 'm afraid I don't have any of that, other than a few potions." Kragrak unfastens his cloak, re-pinning it so that it covers the two cacti on his shoulders, giving him the appearance of someone wearing comically large shoulder pads. "If anyone has spare weapons or doesn't want to get close, I'm ready.

Kragrak thinks, I've never needed cold iron before. I heard back in the Lodge that if you hit hard enough, you can harm pretty much anything, but it seems this evil is too strong. I should probably buy a cold iron weapon back in town in case we run into anything else that is corrupted like this goo. I hope we don't, but better safe than sorry. This problem is bigger than Red, after all. The children are still missing.

"Braggett's right," Oak Sprout says. "I'll stand back here, where you don't have to worry about how dangerous it would be if I got infected." Her voice catches a bit on the last word, and she falls silent, thinking, I have to be brave. This goo is awful. I can't do anything to help, at least not yet. Once it's cleared away, I can talk Red and the others and help them heal their minds.

Prince jumps back upon seeing Braggett's sword burst into flames: "Milord Fizzlebotham, your...", but he does not finish his sentence, instead changing subjects: "Well, my tongue can flick energy around, negative or positive...".

"His tongue is overrated!", Princess growls: "Trust me, I know, I fell for it, and look at me now".

Not knowing much about the Evil ooze plaguing the trees, Castiel decides it best to follow Bragetts lead and readies his sword for whatever is needed. He also starts a chant of prayer to Torag asking for guidance on how to rid this place of this evil substance.

Happy for the temporary diversion from the situation at hand, Oak Sprout asks Princess, "Are you saying the kiss of a frog turned you into a spirit? I've heard stories that say frog kisses having magical powers, but I thought they were just stories. Or maybe that was the princess kissing the frog to make him turn from a frog into a human? Why would he want to stop being a frog, anyway? Legends are confusing."

"Divine power might drive back this scourge, but I loathe to leave to the gods what can be done with simple steel." he pauses to think, "Someone in this town must have a cold iron knife."

Know(local, untrained): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
I'd like to buy a cold iron dagger if we've seen one

I'm not sure who or where, though. Hmm.

"We were just headed for the temple." he gestures northwest, "Perhaps the cleric there could help us purge this rot."

Princess turns to Oak Sprout: "Indeed, I kissed the frog to make him become a Prince again. See what became of me?! Who did you kiss to devolve into what you are?".

Prince snaps at Princess: "I am not a frog, I am a Grippli, and I already was the Prince! You drowned trying to kiss me, after knocking me out when you hit me with your ball. And we'd both be happy if you just move on", turning to the others: "So, what must we destroy here. Why not just burn the orchard down, let it be reborn? Or at least these infected trees".

Oak Sprout recoils, and she stares at Prince in abject horror. "WHAT did you say? Burn down the orchard? Murder Pink Lady and Mac and Granny and Red and Haralson!?!"
How can I get through to him?
Knowledge (Religion): 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (20) - 2 = 18
"How would you feel if I suggested that we dig up the bodies of priests of Pharasma, pull them out of sacred ground, turn them into undead, and force them to do our bidding?"

Just as an aside, there is a general store in Saringallow named Saringallow’s Sundries that’s only a block or two from Gunty’s Hearty Breads. It is location 11 on the map on SLIDE THREE. Here on the Southern Edge of the orchard, you are very close to it.

The purple goo visibly retreats and crumbles to dust from contact with the cold iron of Braggett’s blade, but you get the sense that it’ll take far more effort to clear this mass than one small swordsman can manage in a timely manner.

Are you heading to the Temple, Saringallow Sundries or to the other expert that you know of the arcane and weird in Saringallow — Majara Pricknettle?

"Aye now, little Sprout is right. These trees be a part of this town, wouldn't much do right to destroy it. Besides..." Wetbeard looks wistfully into the forest. "The lads might be in there. Ain't gonna risk burning some young'uns."

Kragrak interposes himself between Prince and Sprout, lest the leshy's indignation inspire her toward behavior that would be inappropriate between Pathfinders. He raises his right hand up into the air in a gesture of peace. "Prince. Let's not be rash and hasty. Zahkar has the right of it. Th'temple should know about clearing evil, and about the missing apprentice. Sprout, the best thing we can do for the trees now is look for a reliable cure.

Wondering why Sprout is talking about priest corpses, Prince looks around to see if there are any graves in the orchard.
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17
"Off to the temple, then?"

"Ha! See, it retreats from my touch!" Lord Braggett says as he happily chops away at the glowing goo, oblivious to the argument between Prince and Sprout. Sir Kibble, on the other hand, senses the distress in his new leafy friend and pads up next to her, gives her a big old lick, and sits down, leaning ever so slightly on Sprout as he watches Braggett go to town on the infected tree. "Take that! And this! Ha Ha, you are no match for... for... Wait, is no one else ready to take on the demonic bile?" Braggett asks, looking around at his comrades "Hmm, perhaps you're right. The children are still out there after all, and now we know that one of the smaller ones may have been the culprit all along." He pauses for a second, a thought brewing "I wonder if this stuff affects humans as it does trees? Do you suppose the nature-loving Nolaria could have been infected while she ran happily through the orchard?" He vaguely recalls some mentions of the temple, and decides to roll with it "We should press on to the temple! Let us learn all we can of the preacher's apprentice."

Didn't realise I was the only one who could hurt the stuff. The temple sounds like a good idea :)

Wetbeard looks deep into the forest, his eye looking for anything of note. Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

"I got a bad feeling 'bout this. Don't feel right walking away... What if they be in there now?" He walks forward a little, looking again and straining to see if there's any signs of the children in the orchard. Never forgive meself if they turn up dead here while we be gone...
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

Assuming he doesn't see anything, Wetbeard lets out a sigh and joins the rest of the group, giving Sprout a pat on the head as he walks by. "Temple it be then. Best we be careful 'bout what we say though, don't need the locals thinkin' the kids infected the orchard with demons. Wouldn't be much safer here then, what with the witch hunts."

After a few swings into the ooze, Castiel stops to watch the Gnome go to work on the glowing Goo…The artistry of his swordplay reminds him very much of his Pappy and makes him look forward to battling by his side in the days to come. "Lord Braggett, It is an honor to see such fine swordsmanship. You remind me of someone who taught me a thing or two on how to use this." Castiel raises his sword and notices a glow to runes on the blade.

"Tha must get oz know anek fine fellow, there is E lot Tha can learn from Kaad.... "

Why ath da runes glowing? is it anek filth? Castiel cleans off the blade with an old cloth but the glow remains. Sheathing his sword before anyone notices, Castiels turns to the group "The group should make haste to the temple..."

btw... How do you work in the time of day in PBP... What time of day is it? How much daylight is left?

"Your teacher must have been a true master of the art!" Lord Braggett says humbly "And that is a handsome sword indeed, Sir, even if it doesn't burst into flames like mine. Those runes are quite unique, and the edge is sharp! Any man who can wield such a blade in the manner that you do, will have my respect." Too wrapped up in himself after Castiel's compliment, Braggett doesn't seem to have noticed that the runes were glowing, instead, he just sheaths his sword and bows respectfully "Why, you're almost as good as me..."

It’s late afternoon or early evening. You have about three hours of daylight left.

The group heads north through the overgrown orchard to the Temple of Erastil. The temple is the largest building in town, with vibrant vegetable gardens all around, and simple wood pillars carved with designs of elk and bows and arrows. You hear the sounds of laughter from a group of children aged from 4 to about ten years of age playing ball in the courtyard. The children shout, “Puppy!” and shriek with delight at the sight of Sir Kibble. “Mister, can we play with your dog?”

Meanwhile, an older gentlemen who has been setting up tables outside with beans, cooked greens and bread asks, “Are you the group that’s been sent by the Mayor? Are you hungry? I’d be happy to set out some more plates for you if you’d like to join us. I’m Father Ildris Ruvarra.”

Stepping forward Castiel says "Thank you father we would be honored to have a bite with you."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

Zakhar scowls at the suggestion to sit and delay.

"Yes, we were sent by the Mayor." his stomach grumbles and after the skirmish with the bugs, the quick meal at the tavern seems much longer ago. He approaches the tables and looks to find a space, "If you please, Father. I won't say no to a meal."

He peers hopefully at the dishes.

Lord Braggett gets all flustered when the children ask about Sir Kibble, but he is gallant and chivalrous, and he answers with as much tact as he can muster "You most certainly can not!" He clears his throat and tries again "Children, he no mere dog... Before you stands Sir Kibble. A ferocious mount that only a trained knight should appr- Sir Kibble! Now really, that is most improper..." Kibble has already bounded off to play with the children, bouncing up and down playfully and pawing at the ball "Well you children are lucky! You have managed to catch him on his day off, and you may play with him after all..."

With his mount off playing fetch, Lord Braggett decides that perhaps his comrades have the right of it, and he settles in for some food "Father Ruvarra, thank you for accommodating us. We have much to discuss, and to do so while enjoying a good meal would be most welcome."

Diplomacy (Aid Another): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

Having a seat across from the Father, Castiel again thanks the father for his hospitality.

"Father, you are correct, we have been sent by the Mayor to look into the disappearances of several children in town… We have talked with several people around town and just had an encounter with a strange Goo like substance in the orchard.." Castiel then gives the father some details on the fight ..

"Is there any information you can give to help in our cause to find the children or understand what is causing this corruption? Your help would greatly help in determining where we should turn next"

“A goo like substance? What, some sort of tree-blight? I’m no naturalist.” Father Ruvarra says. “Herbalism was more Nolaria’s thing, and she’s been missing for days. My daughter was the first of the children to disappear... It’s not like her to do this. Whenever she went on prior adventures, she’d leave me a note, telling me where she was going.”

Wetbeard chimes in from the back, doing his best to hide his offensive appearance from the good father. "One o' our boys hit the stuff with some cold iron, it didn't seem to like that much. Ya got anything like that we might be able to use?"

Lord Braggett nods "Yes, cold iron or positive energy. This was no natural phenomenon, Father, but demonic bile from the abyssal plane, and we thought that perhaps you would know something of such things." Realising that Father Ruvarra's mind is understandably on the whereabouts of his daughter, Braggett tries to reassure him "However, finding your daughter is a priority, and anything you can say about the days prior to her disappearance, will no doubt aid our search. For instance, had she been acting strangely at all? Perhaps she showed displays of freakish strength or martial prowess..." Not wishing to worry the Father unduly, he adds "Nothing to worry about, of course, these are all just standard lines of inquiry."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

“Demonic bile?” Father Ruvarra looks horrified. “In our orchard, where the children —“ He breaks off, brushes his robes and turns to the oldest child. “Harold, go grab an empty jam jar. This’ll be something that we’ll want Mistress Pricknettle and the Mayor to look at!”

“Finish your plates quickly,” he says to all of you. “I’ll have to go with you and look at this, and you can ask me questions along the way.”

Wetbeard grabs a piece of food off the nearest plate and turns to the door, meeting the Father as he walks. "Have any o' the kids been talking about anything like this? If they been in the orchard but never saw it, it must still be fairly young. Good to nip it in the bud while it be young."

"Oh, right... Of course! Lady Pricknettle, knows about this stuff?" Lord Braggett stuffs a little more food in his mouth, and jumps up "Sir Kibble, you shall have to train the young squires some other time. We have been called to action!" Sir Kibble, surrounded by children, looks at Braggett, and reluctantly drops the ball he had in his mouth "Now don't give me that look, we swore an oath to protect the people of this town..." He sighs "We'll come back later, you can finish their training then, I swear!" The large shaggy wolf barks happily, and after one of the children sneaks in one last hug, he bounds off after the group.

Apart from asking if his daughter was acting funny, I can't think of anything else to ask.

Where are the dead Pharasmans, though?, Prince wonders, trying to understand if they were revived before the trees got gooey, or if this is a threat for later.

Normally, the opportunity to play with children and her new favorite pooch would be irresistible, but not after what she has just witnessed. Sprout hangs by the door while the others go inside to talk to Father Ruvarra, fidgeting impatiently. When the party leaves the temple, she hurries along with them. Her speech starts solemn and serious, but it grows increasingly frantic, "Father Ruvarra, I can tell you what the bile did to the minds of the trees it's infected. One of them is furious, obsessed with control and destruction. He commanded bugs to kill me. *ME*. He knew what I was, and yet..." Sprout shudders. "Perhaps even more awful, one of the other trees was confused and scared and voice were telling him to do bad things. He was still fighting against it, but his mind was fading, and, and, we have to hurry! "

Kragrak hangs back by the door, not wanting to leave Oak Sprout alone when she is so clearly distressed. "Th'won't be long, Sprout," he reassures the leshy. "They just have to tell the Father what's happening. Then he can help us help the trees. Braggett cut off enough. It'll take time to grow back to where it was." He decides to reserve questions about Nolaria until after the group has finished investigating and clearing the demon bile. Instead, he follows the group to the orchard, as quickly as his stony legs can carry him. He silently prays to the spirits of nature, that they keep the children safe from this awful bile as well as other unnatural threats.

Leaving Harold in charge of the children, Ruvarra strides through the orchard quickly. “I have no idea if Mistress Pricknettle would know much about demonic bile... On the other hand, she’s had a much more thorough education than I.”

He lowers his voice. “You have noticed, I assume, our town’s position on arcane magic? Only alchemy is tolerated within our boundaries. But Mistresss Pricknettle hails from Umok, a town where EVERYTHING is done with arcane magic and gnomes.... Well, they think differently about magic than the rest of us. She might know something I don’t.”

He looks unhappy. “And no, Nolaria did not tell me anything about bile from the abyss being in the orchard. I would have remembered. My daughter’s a good girl... the most accomplished healer this town has seen, but she’s always been fascinated by the wilds. I found her, an orphaned toddler, during the goblinblood wars. She was wandering alone in a field of flowers, Heaven knows how she got there, or how she survived until I found her! She’s always had a fascination for trees, and herbs, and when she was four she came home with a wild raven that she tamed and made it her pet. She’s got a good kind heart, and I think that she’ll be a wonderful priestess for this temple when she settles down a little.” He gives you a stricken look. “Do you think that the pressure of becoming a priestess might have caused her to run away? She loves healing, and tending to the garden and the little ones, but has little patience for learning all the rituals of the church.”

"No, sir, you cannot blame yourself. I do not believe these children were running away from anything, and your daughter, assuredly, not from the Divine gift. No, quite the contrary, I believe they were dashing towards something. Some peril they wished to thwart. Your daughter probably because she is good, and already a Priestess at heart!"

The priest nods to the grippli, then stops in horror as you reach Red and Haralson. He’s staring at the ugly pulsating purple bile. “By Erastil, what has been done here?” He swallows, holding up a glowing hand, and burns part of the goo away with healing energy. “Well, that’s something at least.”

Red rants again at Sprout. I knew you were up to mischief, but now you bring this ANTLERHEADED IDIOT to THWART me? You cannot stop me, nature spirit! I know you’re against me, but I will WIN.”

Then Father Ruvarra takes a deep breath. “Um, could one of you take the jar and get a sample of this, and then, um, go far away? I’m going to channel.”

Once you have your sample, the priest concentrates, and waves of healing energy wash over this part of the wood. Haralson perks up, straightening a bit, and leaves unfolding. What just happened? I feel like I had a nightmare.

Red just screams, and screams and screams. No, you can’t take this from me... Nooooooooo! The voices... The voices... Where did they go? COME BACK! Come back?

The priest kneels down to Sprout. “I’ve never talked with a nature spirit before, but you said the trees heard voices?”

Wetbeard watched the priest's work, observing the man with a quiet admiration. While there's little help he can do for banishing the bile, he does grab the jar and take a hefty sample before the Father begins cleansing the orchard.

"That should be enough for ol' Pricknettle."

Castiel takes a step back as Father Ruvarra healing energy restores the life of the tree. Turning towards the Father, Castiel wonders “This priest may have knowledge of my ancestry and answers about the runes on my sword. Once we’ve found the children and cleansed this vileness from Saringallow, I will meet with this man!

"Please, wise Oak Sprout. If there is anything this tree can tell us about what happened here..." Zakhar grips the hilt of his sword.

Oak Sprout straightens up at Zakhar's compliment, fluffing up the leaves that cover her body like an owl might fluff the feathers on its chest. "Haralson, it seems, is still all right. He feels like he was coming out of a nightmare, and is confused. As for Red, he's screaming. It's pretty unsettling. He is pleading to the voices to come back. Let me talk to them some more and see what else I can find out. But I need to comfort them first. And Kragrak? I'm going to need to stay here for a little while. When you are ready, go on without me."

Sprout walks up to Haralson and wraps her arms around his trunk, and then speaks to him in the language of trees. "Haralson, you were sick, but now you are better. There was a strange, evil goo that was covering you up and whispering to you in evil voices. You don't have to worry about it any more. You're safe now. Red was sick a lot longer than you were, so it might take him some time to recover. I'm going to talk to him now, OK? I'll be here for a while. I'm not leaving."

Turning to Red, she says in Common, "Oh, Red... We need to talk, tree to tree." Oak sprout plants her roots firmly in the soil. They grow and reach out from her in all directions. Her green and pulpy skin hardens into oak bark, and the leaves from her armor migrate upward, taking their places on the branches that sprout from her head. When the process is over, she has turned her body entirely into a 3-foot tall oak tree. "Red. You're going to be all right. You had the voices for a while, and they told you what you should do. Now you are scared and upset because they are gone. It's OK to be scared and upset. Those voices were like rotten fruit infested with weevils and mold. They felt like normal fruit when you held them on your branches, but they were poison. They stopped everyone from hearing your voice. Your true voice, Red. Haralson is your friend. All of the trees in the orchard have been worried about you. They care about you, and they want to hear your real voice again."

There is a moment of silence in the apple orchard, as all the trees stopped rustling, waiting to see what happened next. Then Red starts to audibly sob, accepting the embrace of the much smaller oak tree. But... I was special. I went from being the laughingstock of the orchard to a King! What will I do now?

The weeping continues, the tree shedding leaves for a bit, until finally it subsides, comforted in the nature spirit’s embrace. Finally, carried by the wind come the encouraging voices of the other trees.

I swear, that’s the loveliest thing I ever did see! Pink Lady calls from a distance. Welcome back, Red. We missed you!

’Bout time that idiot snapped to his senses!

Shhh... Granny! He’ll hear you!

As you walk out of the Orchard, it seems a friendlier and more peaceful place. Curious birds and squirrels watch you and Father Ruvarra is crying. “Nolaria would have loved to see that. Oh, where is she now?”

Where to next, my friends?

Kragrak smiles at Oak Sprout, pride shining in his eyes. He reaches for his handkerchief to wipe away the tears that are beginning to form. "Right, Petrello has it," he mutters, before resorting to wiping his face with his cloak instead. "D'we do go to Pricknettle's place to ask about the bile?"

Oak Sprout is relieved and delighted that her words were able to help Red. She plans to stay here for a little while longer, probably rejoining the party after their next investigation spot. She asks Father Ruvarra, "Would you like to stay here with me in the orchard for a bit while they run off to Pricknettle's or wherever they are going next? I can translate any questions you want to ask the trees. When Nolaria comes back, I can help her talk to the trees too! I bet she'll like that!"

Sprout thinks back about what the trees said to the party about the kids. "Oh! Does Nolaria have a bird? The trees said they like the girl with the bird and she talks to them politely. Then maybe she's already friends with everyone."

Sorry, time got away from me yesterday.

Lord Braggett looks at Oak Sprout with a new found respect, he bows slightly and reverently says "That was nicely done, my Lady." All that rustling of branches must have sent some small debris into his eyes, because they seem slightly misty after that touching moment between Sprout and the trees. The stoic knight clears his throat and turns to Father Ruvarra "Father, I promise we will find your daughter, and she will be able to witness much tree hugging in her life... Now if you wish to stay here with Oak Sprout for a while, there is one last I must ask before we go. Other than the orchard, what are your daughter's favourite places to play with her friends? We have heard that the children may have visited the graveyard from time to time, is that correct?"

Totally agree with going to Pricknettle's now, then maybe Saringallow’s Sundries if Zakhar still wants a cold iron blade, before going onto the graveyard.

That Sprout post was phenomenal.

After Sprout finishes, Wetbeard moves over to the trunk of Red, gently placing his hand across its trunk. To him it just felt like a tree and nothing more; he was thankful for the leshy. Even a tree shouldn't 'ave to suffer like that.

Wetbeard turns to the group, breaking off bread from his pack and tossing it to Sprout when Kragrak isn't looking. He whispers to Sprout with a grin, "That was good work, but don't get telling Krag 'bout the treats!"

When Pricknettle's is mentioned, Wetbeard tosses the jar of bile up and down in his hands, looking at the way it moves inside. "Aye, I think that be the best idea. Don't like carryin' this thing around. Makes Wanda anxious.

Father Ildris smiles at the little nature spirit. “Of course I will stay with you, Sprout. It would be my honor.”

★ --- ★ --- ★ --- ★

The group makes their way back to Majara Pricknettle’s. The gnome is outside, cleaning up a sign and pushing it back into the shop, in preparation for closing. “Oh, you’re back! Have you found any news of where Gelly went?” She glances up at you, hopefully.

Prince slips behind the tall folk, feeling bad for the poor woman...

"I am sorry, my Lady! There have been developments, but I am afraid we have yet to pinpoint Gelly's exact location." Lord Braggett says solemnly as he approaches Pricknettle "We have come, instead, to request your aid in the investigation." He turns around to gesture at Wetbeard, who is currently carrying their sample of glowing goop "We have collected a sample of a substance that has driven the trees of the orchard quite insane, and were hoping that your expertise could help us identify what it is, where it may have came from, and what effect it might have on people." Braggett eyes the jar uneasily, but the way that Wetbeard nonchalantly tosses it around doesn't make him feel any better. "Egads! Please be careful with that, Sir..."