Motteditor's Reign of Winter PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Hektir moves into the room as Mal uses the wand to good effect once more, its fiery blast hitting the plant creature.

Pems has less luck, his stone flying wide, though Quinn's bolt slams into the small creature's face, sending chunks of plant matter spraying against the wall.

Despite the injury, the creature continues to strain uselessly at the chain holding it to the wall.

Nadya picks up her bow, but again not having a clear shot, waits until she can find room to shoot.

Note that Round 2 is Tsin's first chance to act, so she's nauseated for this round.

Round 2, Init 24

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17 Know (Nature)

Hektir spits as he finally gets a good look at the creature?

"Hey Quinn, remember that creature we had to hunt that was eating Mrs. Kribitski's pigs? Yeah, the plant thing. We got another one...a big overgrown demon-blood fed root. And this one is an ugly one, too. Remember when you tried to re-pot the last one?"

Hektir looks at it again.

"This one seems chained up good, but is pretty dangerous so let's kill it from range and move on."

Hektir readies to attack again if it should bust free, while trying to keep the firing lanes open.

Ready:
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24 to hit;
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 damage.

Round 2

"Save the wand Mal, we'll need it against the icy creatures more than this thing." Quinn fires again at the strange beast.

light crossbow: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
dmg: 1d8 ⇒ 4

"That re-potting attempt was mostly terrible, but think of the bacon flavored broccoli it would have produced! Genius, if it had worked, but again, sorry about those scars Hektir."

Round 2, Init 6

"...bacon flavored broccoli..."

Tsin heaves hard. "Damn it, Quinn." Tsin finds herself the spitter, as she clears her mouth of the newly arrived bile. "More shooting, less talking."

Tsin turns her back to the room, and concentrates on keeping her stomach from hitching again, jabbing the sword against the floor, miming a promise to the plant.

Pemsworth rolls his eyes as the guys banter and loads another bullet.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17 for 1d4 ⇒ 2 damage!

Malavarius is about to send another burst of fire lancing through the air when Quinn's suggestion gives him pause. "Hmm? Oh- yes, of course. Have at it then." Turning back, he walks over to Tsin and pats her shoulder reassuringly. "I don't have any magic to fix this, I'm afraid. I wish I did, upset stomaches are not things to be trifled with."

Mal moves to help Tsin with her ill stomach, as Hektir's blade, Pems' bullet and Quinn's bolt finish off the plant creature.

A search of the room reveals nothing else of interest.

"What strange companions these wintery witches choose?" Quinn looks at the remains of the plant creature with disgust. "On to the southern doors then?" With crossbow loaded Quinn approaches the southern set of double doors, ready to fling them open.

Tsin gives Mal a halfhearted smile, as she feels comfortable enough to stand straighter. "You speak truth, Mal. Having sickness forced upon you suddenly, that's retched. I'd take food poisoning over that any day."

Tsin maintains sightlines on the two doors facing the descending platforms, interested in catching anyone fleeing this floor.

"Let's give Tsin here a moment to regain herself first, hmm? And do we know why that creature started screaming so? Did it recognize Hektir, perhaps?"

"Because it saw me? I was over by the other door, it couldn't even see me," Hektir spits, not getting the joke.

He kicks the plant around a bit, trying to make sure it's dead-dead and Quinn can't replant it in beer-soil and hope for beer-pears to be the fruit.

The bacon idea was terrible...it's all about beer-pears. I told him!

Hektir shoots Quinn an angry look, a long resentment returning.

"Tsin, if you're done wasting good breakfast, let's get a move on," Hektir notes, and will follow Quinn to the next door.

"Maybe it smelled you! BWAAAAHA!" Zeno cackles cheerily to himself atop Quinn's shoulder, his right wing pulled over his head as he shakes his head in laughter.

Quinn squints back at Hektir's glare, "Oh come one, we've been through it a hundred times, that would have been awful cider! Vegetables can use some bacon flavor, but alcohol does not need the essence of pig with every sip." Too late Quinn remembers Tsin and steps back to keep his boots from getting splattered. "Oops, sorry Tsin, forgot. Of course, with the way Hektir is smelling, that's likely making you as sick as anything." Quinn chuckles with Zeno as he opens the southern doors.

Zeno settles into soft chuckles as he offers Quinn a high-five with his left wing.

"His smell, or his misogyny. Take your pick." Tsin cocks her neck back and forth, bringing forth a healthy pop.

"Let's be done with this place." Tsin waits for Quinn and Hektir to move into the next room.

Pemsworth stifles a laugh as the banter flies. "Maybe it screams like a watch....plant?"

Quinn opens the door, revealing a sprawling chamber with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls. An ornate wooden table, covered with open texts and lit candles, and six chairs sit in the middle of the room. A massive mirror hangs on the western wall.

As he steps in, he suddenly hears the sound of a spell and a woman wielding a massive greatsword suddenly begins to grow, reaching 9 feet tall as she gives you a wide grin.

Party is up for Round 1. She has reach due to her large size, so closing to melee will provoke an attack of opportunity.

Round 1, Init 15

Hektir gulps as he sees the woman, more specifically, how big the woman is.

"She's all yours Quinn!" Hektir pats Quinn on the back, encouraging the priest to do what he does best.

Oh man! Time for Quinn to get grabby. He loves women of...uh...uh...girth.

Hektir delays for Quinn to move out of the way.

Round 1, init 14

Quinn shifts back and unleashes his bolt at the new foe.

light crossbow: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17
dmg: 1d8 ⇒ 5

"I think she can take us both at the same time Hektir, just like..um..well, I think we agreed not to speak about that again." Quinn finishes meekly, just like before.

Round 1, Init 14-

Tsin watches as Quinn takes advantage of his proximity to the giantess. "Oh, this is choice. It seems only fair that you try to overpower us by size, as we have the numbers." Tsin snorts, lets the longsword clatter to the floor, and wades in, drawing a more appropriate weapon to face a greatsword.

Falchion: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19 for 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (4, 1) + 6 = 11 damage

Oh, for the promise of rest and a new day... what I wouldn't give to summon judgment upon you, wench... I would call you by your birth name, with proper courtesy, before I cut you down, but I don't think we'll have time for that...

Malavius' eyes widen as the woman in the next room swells to the size of a small giantess. "Oh my!" The wizard then sidles up next to the wall (move down 1 square) and calls up a protective ward for the group, the shimmering curtain blossoming out from the head of his staff once more.

+1 deflection bonus to AC for any ally w/in 10 feet of Malavarius!

Round 1, Init 14--

Quinn slaps.

Hektir 5' steps in and tries to cut the woman down.

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18 to hit;
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 damage.

Pemsworh lets out a sigh as yet another giant thing with a sword appears. He wards Tsin, giving her a +2 deflection bonus to AC and +2 resistance bonus to saves until she's hit! He then studies the woman to see what tricks she might have!

Quinn moves closer, but can't make contact with the woman as she weaves out of his way. Hektir has more luck as he slides in, his spear piercing her guard and drawing blood.

Tsin wades in, but there's too much clutter for her to reach the woman, and she's forced to circle around the table there, followed by Pems, who wards her against danger. Mal adds his own magic, punctuated by Nadya's curse.

"How many people are in tower? I just want my daughter, damn you!"

Ignoring Nadya, the woman swings her massive blade, which is just barely turned aside from Quinn's skin thanks to Mal's ward. The blow's so massive, Hektir's forced to duck under it as well. She backs off slightly, limiting the approach as she again swings the blade in front of her.

Stupid AC bonuses!

Round 2, init 14

Backing up from the deadly blade of the big woman, not Tsin, but the really big woman, Quinn points a finger at her and hollers, "Hold it right there, Giganticus, or we'll cut you down like all the others! Have a heart and help us find this woman's stolen child, or die with the other child stealers!"

shift back to the square in front of Pems and cast Hold Person on the woman, DC 15

daily abilities remaining: door sight 3/6, touch of chaos 3/6, channel 3/6, 2nd 1/3, 1st 2/4

Round 2, Init 14-

"Careful, boys. She's got a means of drawing that blade through two, same as me." Tsin shifts her back foot, and springs at the woman, when an opening presents itself. If the woman freezes in place, Tsin listens for a cue to hold her blade. "Are we talking here?"

Falchion: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 for 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (4, 2) + 6 = 12 damage

Hold still, hold still now... there's more work to be done here...

"Cut her down, Tsin, and I'll bring her back around with Hektir on top of her and me ready to do some troll slapping, we'll do the talking later!" Quinn is completely oblivious to the innuendos.

An involuntary shudder darts down Malavarius' spine as he overhears Quinn's colorful description. "Well now, I wouldn't surrender if I were her after hearing that. What about you, Zeno?"
The thrush, having returned to the relative safety of Malavarius' shoulder once the larger women was revealed, shakes his head fervently and stifles a gag.
Grumbling to himself regarding the present generation and the doomed fate of the world, the old wizard shifts closer to the others to ensure his ward benefits each of them in turn.

+1 deflection bonus to AC for any ally w/in 10 feet of Malavarius!

Round 2, Init 14--

Hektir gives Quinn a look that even *he* is uncomfortable with what he just said, but nonetheless gets back to focusing on the big woman (not Tsin).

Hektir 5' steps in and tries to cut the woman down. Or Coup de Grace if the spell works.

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14 to hit; Might hit at -4AC.
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 damage.

Coup damage, if save fail: 2d6 + 8 ⇒ (4, 3) + 8 = 15 damage.

AC 18
HP 27/33

Pemsworth tries to hit her with a bullet! 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8 for 1d4 ⇒ 4 damage!

1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

Sigh

The woman freezes at Quinn's spell, her eyes going wide as Hektir approaches and slits her throat. The fights ends almost as quickly as it began.

1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

Would help to have memorable fights if the dice roller would go into the double digits once in a while. I'm starting to hate hold person.

They are memorable, Mott, just perhaps for different reasons than you'd like. Wanton slaughter of guards in the town watering hole? Memorable. Storming a secluded wood cabin where everything has cold auras that bring us within an inch of our level 1 lives? Also memorable! Stupid fey that try to blast us of treacherous rope bridges? Yup! Lots of memorable fights =)

Malavarius frowns at the cooling blood as it pools beneath the woman's large, and now prostrate, form. "More's the pity, indeed." He nods to Hektir, "You did well, lad."

"Quinn, more like. That's an awfully useful hammer you drop, when they hold still like that." Tsin moves to examine the woman's posessions, seeking out the greatsword's craftsmanship, as well as anything that may intrigue the others regarding the source of her magical enlargement.

"She was set to guard here, wouldn't you agree? We should be close. Winter witch, apprentice, or both. Let's have out."

Tsin examines the back room.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Agree with Mal, good points. As players we experience things slightly differently than the GM. I thought the battle outside was really interesting (and dangerous)...as well as the ones Mal mentioned. This one here will lead to some roleplay as well. But I understand the disappointment.

Hektir spits grimly, not liking that outcome but taking the time to clean his scimitar of blood (proper scimitar maintenance is important to any outdoorsman).

"Quinn, more like. That's an awfully useful hammer you drop, when they hold still like that."

He gives Quinn a grim nod before trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Nah...that's just how women react when Quinn approaches 'em. They kinda freeze up like a frog to a hooded lantern," Hektir jaws.

Hektir looks through the woman's possessions once they return to normal size, handing things of interest to Pems and Mal.

Quinn mummers a prayer and focuses on the woman and the library.

detect magic - which I hate almost more than hold person when it's at will, because it's too useful to ignore, but steals that old school gaming anticipation of wondering if we found anything really neat. Still, I hear ya Mott, I do hate the stuff that denies people from participating, and hold person and fear top that list.

"That's right Hektir, they freeze as they stare at me dreamily." Quinn strikes a handsome pose, "Which is better than them wrinkling their nose and looking to see if you rolled in something." Quinn flashes a grin back to Zeno.

The room is full of books, which could be of some value or use if you have a chance to study them.

The only other thing that radiates magic is some of the woman's gear. She has 3 bottles of liquid, a scroll of magic weapon, a dagger, very nice greatsword, very nice throwing axe, a magical cloak, a key, a small wedge of ice that radiates magic, and 65 gp.

Zeno guffaws before flitting up to a higher perch atop Malavarius' winter hat.

"Hmmm? What have you found there, Quinn?" Malavarius strokes his beard and he, Quinn, and (likely) Pemsworth try to make sense of the magics invested in the various objects.

Spellcraft (potion 1): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24
Spellcraft (potion 2): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30
Spellcraft (potion 3): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (11) + 12 = 23
Spellcraft (cloak): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21
Spellcraft (icy wedge): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (13) + 12 = 25

Pemsworth busies himself looking over the books as Mal examines the magical things. He pulls volumes down and peers over them, replacing them if they seem of limited use, keeping them if they're about witchery.

"Perhaps we can more thoroughly search the library, once the keep is secured?" She picks up the greatsword, and holds it alongside the longsword, testing its balance. She sheathes the longsword for now, getting a further appreciation for the woman's recent loss.

Tsin flicks her head towards the unopened door at the back of the room, and moves to stand next to it, ready to open it and explore further, once the magicks have been studied.

The items appear to be an elixir of fire breath, 2 potions of cure moderate wounds, a scroll of magic weapon; and a cloak of resistance +1. You're not sure what the wedge is, but it radiates conjuration (teleportation) magic.

Pems, as Mal assesses the items, a quick glance shows you the library contains books on such varied topics as Golarion history, the Great Beyond, and bestiaries on dragons, fey, and magical beasts of the icy north.

Tsin, the sword is masterwork.

"Well, it seems these two potions are curatives, while this one will temporarily curse whomever drinks it into having breath like Hektir's. The scroll is of passing helpfulness, though perhaps young Pemsworth here might be able to learn its intricacies? The cloak seems to be a perfectly functional piece intended to keep one's shoulders dry in the rain while also reinforced against magics. Quite clever, if you ask me, but it looks rather itchy." Malavarius sniffs and scratches his beard.

He holds up the shard of ice, looking at it closely as it shimmers in the light. "I've not the foggiest idea what this is or what it does."

Hektir gets up and arches his back, stretching all his witch-given muscles right in front of Nadya.

"All this revenging is hard work," Hektir notes, flexing an arm and admiring the scratches of combat. He smiles man-like at Nadya.

"So...what you got there Mal? A potion of curification, huh?" Hektir takes one of the potions of CMW and pouches it. "Say Quinn...this breathy potion might be perfect for you. You can pretend you're one of them firebreathers you wanted to have on your birthday," Hektir says recollecting. "You wanted a jester, a pony ride, and firebreathers. I recall. I recall this because it was last year."

Hektir ponders the cloak. Tsin has the Yeti cloak. Who wants this? I actually think our party is pretty well saved. Damn multiclassers. /me spits. Pems? Mal? Quinn?

Who wants firebreath? And who carries scroll of MWeapon?

After loot is disbursed, Hektir will look to Quinn and the next door to be explored. Hektir still wants to go back to the north door in the table room.

"Hey Quinn, I thought I smelled alcohol over here." Hekir points to the north door.

Tsin undoes a leather knot, and draws off of her back the second falchion she's been carrying around. She sets it down on the body of the fallen woman.

She repositions her two other swords and sheathes across her back, and brings the greatsword to rest on her free shoulder. She deals with the length of the blade awkwardly.

"Are we ready, then? Perhaps the shard of ice is used in conjunction with the wall of ice that defends the front entrance?" Tsin's left eyebrow raises in consideration. "If it's magic, then it's likely not to melt any time soon."

"The lady's cloak looks to be a fine fit for me, I'll wear it." Again, Quinn is oblivious to the innuendo. Beaming at Hektir with his new cloak in place, "That party was the best Hektir, thanks again! We'll have to do that again next year! Oohh, maybe we can have a miniature caravan ride, where a bunch of toy wagons are linked together and you sit on top of them while they go around the little track with pretend stops at the watering hole! Speaking of watering holes, you think you smelled liquor to the north?" Pointing dramatically with his holy symbol, Quinn thrusts his battered drinking mug towards the northern door. "To Liquor, my friends, and witchy witcheries be damned!" Following Hektir, Quinn makes for the northern door in the table room, ready to use his ability to peer through the closed portal.

I think Mal could use the cloak most. Also magic weapon isn't on my list... But I'll take firebreath potion!

Pemsworth reluctantly puts the books back, though a couple volumes really looked like exciting reading! He sighs and joins the others.

Remembering his manners after the fact, Quinn removes the cloak and places it over Mal's shoulders, "Sorry da..Mal...you could probably use the comfort the cloak offers a bit more than me." Quinn takes a moment too long making sure the old man is bundled and warm, then offers an awkward smile before proceeding to the northern doors with Hektir.

Pems has a snowball spell if you two want to throw it back and forth while awkwardly not speaking of your feelings?

dawwww! where'd my hilarious post go?! stupid postmonsters!

Malavarius frowns in confusion as Quinn drapes the itchy-looking cloak over his shoulders. "Zeno, do you think Quinn is so drunk he's lost his hearing faculties, mental faculties, or that he never had any of the latter to begin with?"
"Well, he's funny at least."
"But I don't want this scratchy cloak and he just draped it over me with something akin to reverence! The alcohol has melted his brains, Zeno!"
"Well, why don't you return the cloak then?"
"Oh? Oh! That's a fine idea, Zeno. I'll do just that."
Malavarius shrugs the cloak off his shoulders and scoops it off the floor with the tip of his staff. Turning to Quinn, standing right beside him still, the old wizard deposits the cloak in Quinn's arms. "There, you keep that, lad. I don't much care for itchy cloaks. They're itchy, don't you know."

He turns his attention to Pemsworth, still running his finger over various book spines, "Pemsworth? I say, Pemsworth. Take a look at this shard, would you? I can't make head nor tails of it and I wonder if it might be a key to some mysteriously secluded and downright frigid vault. If it is, then we've surely figured out where these blasted villains have hidden my good hat!"

Pems turns the ice shard over and over in his hands, frowning at it. Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

If that fails, he'll Use Magic Device to activate it blindly! UMD: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

provided that Pems doesn't activate any magical portals...

Though intelligent, rational thought escapes him, often, Quinn has the wisdom to recognize the old man's desire to see his son provided for and accommodates the request with graciousness. "Sure, Mal, sure, I'll wear the cloak." Quinn dons the garment again, this time with pride. "Right gents, to the liquor cabinet!" Quinn will use his doorsight on the northern door.

daily abilities remaining: door sight 2/6, touch of chaos 3/6, channel 3/6, 2nd 1/3, 1st 2/4