Once More into the Breach - GMF's Wrath of the Righteous (Inactive)

Game Master Fanguar

Indeed.

Aglamore stamps forward, keeping his weight on his forward foot and thrusting his spear in the snake's direction. He prays for the notice and intercession of his patron. "Great Iomedae, Shield of the Righteous, rebuke this man's injuries and bind up his wounds that he may continue the fight so nobly begun in your name!"

Spontaneously convert comprehend languages spell to cure light wounds and cast it on Rakeesh. Meanwhile, be ready with the longspear in case of an opportunity presents itself for an AoO.

Cure Light Wounds to Rakeesh: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

AC 15, HP 9/9
Move: 25ft to Adjacent Rakeesh, to not block Aglamore's spear
Standard: Attack Snake. 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18, 1d4 + 1d6 ⇒ (4) + (1) = 5

Aglamore had dropped the torch that he was holding, but that was enough for Joao to see by. Now that there was some illumination in the room, he did not have to worry about inadvertently causing any confusion by fumbling about in the dark. Even flickering light was better than no light.

Sliding past the cleric who had readied his spear, his dagger was pointed downwards as he reached the snake, stabbing it downwards as close to the head as he could manage, while maintaining some modicum of safety so he did not inadvertently stab an ally. If this did not free him soon, there may be dire consequences for them. However, they now had food for the next couple of days, provided they succeed.

Argh. It has 1 HP left :(

Round 2
24 Aglamore
23 Rakeesh
22 Ruarc
10 Joao (delay)
10 Snake
8 Pytos
3 Maeve

Round 2 - Init 10

The snake's thick coils squeeze Rakeesh mercilessly and the man's face starts to turn a distrissing shade of purple. It's prey secured, it snaps its mouth down on Rakeesh's head in anticipation of beginning its meal.

Grapple: 1d20 + 9 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 9 + 5 = 19
Constrict: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Bite: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (13) + 5 - 2 = 16
Damage: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Pytros and Maeve to finish off the round and then onto round 3

Round 2, Initiative 8
HP 11/11; AC 15/11T/14FF

SA: Whip vs. Snake (AC 13) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
> Nonlethal Damage 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Pytros sees the giant snake start to swallow Rakeesh's head. He thinks to himself, 'Tactical mistake. Should eliminate other targets first.' The snake's hunger gives him an opening by exposing and securing the head. He plants his feet and snaps his whip forward. It cracks as it splits the air. The whip slashes at the top of the snake's head, spraying a small amount of blood from the laceration. The constrictor reels upwards, stunned by the strike, and releases Rakeesh's head. Both the snake and paladin collapse to the ground. Pytros calmly closes the distance between them and quickly wraps the whip around the snake's body, just under the bottom of the jaw, to immobilized it. "It is merely stunned. We must kill it before attending to his wounds," he says. "An unsafe battlefield is a poor choice for mending injuries."

"Gladly," Ruarc says, stepping forward and cutting off the snake's head with Justice. He holds one hand to his gushing neck wound and turns to the cleric. "Brother Aglamore, can you heal us?"

If I'm doing the math correctly, Rakeesh is staggered at 0 hp.

Rakeesh fell to one knee as the weight of the massive serpents coils overcame him. His breath was blasted from his lungs as the creatures immense strength squeezed the life from within him. After what seemed an eternity without air, Joao, Pytros, and Ruarc stepped in and decapitated the snake.

Slowly, Rakeesh was able to extricate himself from the serpents attack. "Ragathiel..." he panted, "once spent fifteen years wrestling with a fiendish serpent whose scales wept acid..." He took a few deep gulps of air as he struggled to shrug off the remains of the creature. "I am pleased that my struggle did not last so long..."

Guys, it would be easier to know whom to heal if your current and maximum hit points were shown in the class/level line (like mine).

Aglamore prays over Rakeesh again.

Spontaneously convert divine favor spell to cure light wounds and cast it on Rakeesh.

Cure Light Wounds to Rakeesh: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

"Who else is injured?" he asks.

I'm at 2/10. I'll keep the tracking spoiler under my name up to date in the future, it'll also be in my combat posts as per DM request.

Aglamore invokes his final miracle of the day, praying over Ruarc's injuries. "In the blessed name of Iomedae, I bid you be healed."

cure light wounds on Ruarc: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

"It would be advisable to rest," he says. This healing has exhausted me."

"Rest?" Pytros seems quite skeptical. "We'll just have to be careful. We still have no idea how long we will be down here, and resting each time one of us reaches his or her spell-casting limitations is not a wise stratagem. We can't stop until we have exhausted our collective resources substantially."

"Our collective resources consist largely of our health, Pytros. A resource to which I can no longer contribute. Be advised that if you fall in battle, I can no longer aid you, save as a warrior."

"Thank you. I have enough energy left for one spell. We should continue for now, the gods only grant their blessing once per Golarion's rotation," Ruarc says in response to Aglamore and Pytros. "Perhaps we should eschew the scouting now that I'm injured. I likely won't survive another ambush alone like that. Walking in a group will nearly guarantee we'll lose surprise, but it'll be more safe overall."

You don't have channeling Aglamore? When I asked if you could heal us I figured you would pop off a channel and hit Rakeesh and I at the same time.

Nope. I burned my two channels right at the start on the NPCs. Your healer is wise, but fairly pedestrian in the charisma department. I plan to pick up Extra Channeling at 3rd level.

"As you wish," says Aglamore, hefting his spear and turning back to the non-combatants. "The way is clear," he tells them. "Come on and join up with us; we are ready to continue."

Rakeesh braced himself with his blade, as his breath and his balance returned. "I concur. We must keep moving. But, we should not separate again. We are too weak apart. Too far from the light and one another. Too far to respond when threats arise."

Examining the wounds sustained thus far, Maeve reaches for her wand. I have something that might help. It will heal you. At that the young woman pauses frowning. But it’s not the most pleasant of experiences. I recovered it inside of the Worldwound. It does the job.. but it leaves you feeling.. foul after the experience is over. I know that we are potentially short on time, and normally I wouldn’t suggest it, but seeing as how we are limited in our resources, I am willing to mention it.

For some reason I was thinking the enemies had to be intelligent for me to eat their sins. Silly me.

Ruarc seems to consider Maeve's offer for a moment and then shakes his head. Time for a little payback you scaly bastard, he thinks leaning over and picking up the headless snake. He lifts its corpse until the severed stump of the neck is even with his mouth. The dark inquisitor gives his new found companions a wary look before opening his mouth wide and starting to suck in. Horrendously, impossibly, his inhalation never ends. It just keeps going, first drawing small particles of blood across the gap from severed neck to mouth, then pale blue wisps of energy begin to stream from the corpse. The energy flows into Ruarc's mouth, eyes and into the nostrils of his helmet. It gets sucked in the way a smoker re-inhales smoke as its fleeing his mouth. As the process drags on, the channels of energy first get thicker, and then eventually thinner again. After a minute the flow peters out completely. Ruarc shudders, swaying on his feet. "Ha! That's much, much better," he giggles, tossing the withered snake corpse away.

Healing: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

He pulls down the gorget of his armor to reveal a fully healed neck, where moments before there had been a gushing bite wound. He rocks his head to both sides, cracking his neck. Then he shakes his jowls back and forth like a dog and says, "I feel great! Let's go!" Ruarc begins to saunter slowly, veeeery slowly, forward into the tunnels. He sways back and forth, a foolish grin having completely replaced the hard-set grimace as the only visible part of his body.

Bluff: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Having not seen a spectacle like that before, Joao was momentarily surprised, before a look of slight amusement crossed his face. He suspected the reactions of the others that were not quite used to such oddities would be a bit.. Concerned, had they seen something like that. So his attempt at humor fell somewhat short, the musing murmur of ,"..As above, so below, eh?", was delivered somewhat awkwardly. He supposed it was his fault, having come here to conquer his fear of demons, and not having expected to see other things of new and different sources.

"Taken aback" did not quite encompass what he was feeling, though "wary confusion" was a little better. "Dumbstruck" had more of a fawning sort of feel to the word, so he just settled on "speechless"-- his prior vocalization making that word ineligible. He had forgotten to sheathe his dagger, and set about cleaning the blade on... Well, his pant leg before returning it to his sheath at his waist.

Closing his mouth, he realized his jaw had dropped at seeing that, and decided to cover his surprise with a glib response (and no, that was not a hint of awe in his tone), finding more of his voice, albeit a bit late. "Can see in the dark, and makes jerky also?", he called after Ruarc. "What can you not do, good sir?" The jesting smile faded from his face seconds after he said that, as the echoing of his voice and their footsteps echoed against the darkened walls and dry air of the earth surrounding them.

What can you not do, good sir?

"Lots of things, like get laid for one," Ruarc replies to Joao, still giggling. "Ragathiel's blessings are many and manifold. I can eat the sins of a defeated worthy foe. It cleans their soul, and its oh so tasty." Ruarc is clearly stoned from the way he's acting. All his earlier seriousness has melted away. His straight backed posture has relaxed into a slouch, and he seems to topple from one foot to the next as he paces restlessly at the front of the group. "Enjoy "party me" while it lasts. I should be back to dour-pants in a few," he continues, talking with his body as much as his words. When he says party me, he does a little dance; when he says dour-pants he straightens up and moves his arms back and forth like a golem.

Aglamore is nonplussed by Ruarc's words and bizarre behavior. He chalks it up to the half-madness that he has seen overtake many who have spent too long in the Worldwound.

"Let's keep the party moving, then," he says.

The group moves out.

Rakeesh eyes Ruarc's bizarre behavior. "This... is... unseemly."

He cinched the straps of his pack tighter, and tried for the third time to tie them down so they wouldn't slip. He eyed the now empty pack that Joao had retrieved, the thickness of the canvas and the quality of the stitching. "Would you mind?" he gestured towards the pack. "It looks sturdier than my own."

I suspect Rakeesh will be mule-ing for a few levels. So, I thought I'd throw my hat in for the pack.

Please ignore my last two posts, I couldn't have eaten its sins. I misread the ability. It does have to be an intelligent foe.

In the snake cave

Hearing the end of the fighting, Horgus, Anevia and Aravashnial make their cautious way to join you. Aravashnial demands a complete description of the room and Anevia patiently begins explaining what she can see. Horgus gives the pair a barely masked look of contempt and takes up a position off to one side.

"Thats a big snake," he says quietly, almost to himself. Taking in the newly injured he adds, "I guess we should all stick together, hmmm?

Onwards and Upwards

The passage leaving the snake's lair is narrow, but it winds slowly ever upwards. Time passes slowly in those close confines and still the tunnel continues upwards. After about a half hour, the tunnel reaches a junction, with the main branch continuing its slow progression upwards.

The side branch is little more than a rough opening to a small cavern. Dim sickly green light suffuses the chamber. A single sizeable 20-foot-tall building remains in the centre of the 30-foot-high cave, a bunker-like structure with no windows and walls of worked stone blocks. A 10-foot-long carving of a hammer decorates the building’s facade. The ruins of collapsed outbuildings stand to either side.

Aglamore approaches Rakeesh en route. " I don't think Aravashnial feels included in this effort, and my heart tells me he has some larger role to play in this journey or perhaps when we return to the city above. Will you talk to him, Rakeesh?"

As he says this, he lays a friendly had on Rakeesh's shoulder, passing to him a bit of Iomedae's glory. Then he prays for his fellow traveler, that his words will sway the elven wizard.

Aglamore uses Touch of Glory and enhanced diplomacy to grant Rakeesh a combined +3 to his next Diplomacy check within 1 minute.

"A temple of Torag," Ruarc states. He has said next to nothing during the long climb upwards, only talking to respond to anyone who addresses him. This is taking too long. Valki's probably dead already. Damn it. The inquisitor tucks his head into the side cavern, examining the ceiling and shadowy corners thoroughly.

Take 20 on perception for a 25 on the Torag cavern.

Rakeesh had not fully acclimated himself to the odd egalitarianism the crusaders displayed in this land. So, his initial reaction was one of disbelief when one of his new companions clapped him congenially on the shoulder. The unmitigated gall! ....No... Their customs are different, and you have foresworn your inheritance...

Still, he rolled a skeptical eye upon the Iomedaean. "This is the deadliest of conflicts. We are not obliged to include the infirm and enfeebled. We would be poor stewards to do so." Rakeesh turned his fiery gaze upon the half-lame, half-blind pairing. "Nevertheless, he likely possesses knowledge of wards that guard Kenabres, and perhaps how they may have failed so utterly. I will speak to him."

Rakeesh moved to stand before the coupled crusaders. "Your pardon, Lady. Master Aravashniel, I am Rakeesh Sah Tarna."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 7 + 3 = 23

"You spoke of your abilities to summon creatures not native to our plane. Has that given you any insight into how the Storm King and his minions were able to appear within the city's walls, and breach every defense built over generations? Do you have any ideas how we could rebuild or repair the breach and permanently destroy the path or easement the demon-kind have created?"

Earlier, In the snake cavern

Holding the blacken yew wand lightl in her scarred hands, her knuckles wrapped around the wand. Glancing down at the wand, she frowned. Was that scar new? Or another gift from her patron? Maeve wasn’t sure anymore. It seemed like each night when she dreamed she was left with another gift. Each was painful and each reminders of her shadowy lords hold over her. Sighing she shook her head. Glancing up towards the man in the cowed mask, she approached lightly on the balls of her feet, her footsteps muffled in the echoing confines of the cavern. Even now, her flight from the blighted lands of the Worldwound hung heavy in her head and she would be remiss if she led another ambush down on them by her carelessness. Prepare yourself, she stated This won’t be pleasant. Sweeping the wand around in a complex gesture she wove together the actions that would activate the wand. As she did so, she wondered why the man hid his face. The gods knew that she had her own secrets, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t intrigued.

Letting the spell take hold, a sinuous cloud of black miasma came into being. It swirled around the man, like the coils of the snake that they had just killed, in a shadowy twin. It swirled tighter and tighter, seeming to breath in and out. As the spell began to work she glanced at the crushed armor and blotchy bruise that was already beginning to take form. It belied further injured below to the man’s bones and organs. Suddenly the spell sucked itself inward towards the same blue splotches visible on the man’s skin. This was when it became unpleasant. Maeve knew from her own experiences that the wand was useful, but the effect was… unsettling. To her it had felt like black tendrils of inky tar flooding into her veins. Like a spider caught below the surface, pushing itself through your body. It had made her want to retch and left her feeling unclean in a way that no amount of baths could ever fix. Eyes watching closely she saw as the tarry substance began to push its way through the veins, bulges rising along the man’s arms and side.

As the spell finished its healing, Maeve studied the man’s face. Quietly she whispered. Are you alright? The feeling will pass in a few hours. If there was any other way to have helped you I would have used it.

Present, at the temple of Torag.

Standing before the ruined temple, Maeve felt the air grow cold and goose bumps appear on her skin. She had an urge to shiver but resisted it. Torag? She stated quietly, running a hand through her hair. That’s a dwarven god right? Shrugging at the glances, she turned back to the building. The light bothers me. If there’s light then something might still reside there. We should be careful.

Earlier...

Are you alright? The feeling will pass in a few hours. If there was any other way to have helped you I would have used it.

"Thank you." is Ruarc's only reply. He acknowledges no unpleasantness, though Maeve gets the feeling Ruarc finds nearly everything unpleasant. As the magic works on his wound, healing it, Ruarc flexes his neck back and forth with a pop. Doesn't feel any more unpleasant than being an oni-spawn sin eater normally does. Heh.

Knowledge: Religion 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Knowledge: Dungeoneering 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

Pytros watches quietly as Maeve's spell heals Ruarc's bloody injuries. The snake had been dangerous, more than he would have expected. Hermea was cleared of native fauna many years ago. Unlike the rest of the world, Hermeans worry little about intelligent predators or dangerous animals in the wild. What few animals remain on the island are contained for study, entertainment, or domestication. His training included the dispassionate study of dangerous animals, as well as controlled combat using them. Still, he was not truly prepared for the speed and ferocity of the hungry, wild snake.

The scarred woman asks about Torag, prompting him to deliver his knowledge. Dwarves were a little-studied topic in his schooling, and their gods even less so. Still, he had received cursory lessons on most of the pantheons of the world, even if they weren't allowed to worship any. "Torag is a dwarven god, yes. He is known by his worshipers as the Father of Creation and the Father of Dwarves. Most of his subjects are dwarves, as you can imagine. As for the light, it is a natural occurrence. Still, some caution ought to be in order after what happened with the snake." He trudges carefully to the edge of the shrine. "I imagine there is a forge down there. Perhaps we can find additional weapons or armor that can aid our quest. It looks a defensible position, so we must be wary. Someone or something else may have claimed it as a lair. That said, if we cannot find a way out quickly, this may serve as a suitable location for us to rest."

"How do you we want to go in?" Ruarc asks the Hermean warrior. He follows next to the man, with Justice drawn in both hands. Last thing I need is to get ambushed and nearly killed again. These people must think I'm a joke.

Still perceiving the cavern, just talking while I do so.

Quiet along with the rest, Joao followed, relieved at having some light again. This large a group was something he was not used to, as they left more tracks, made more noise, and could not hide as easily. So there was a bit of adjustment for him to be in a group this large and have no choice about it.

It was a curious thing to find a forge underground? Or was it? He had not chosen to pick up much about the history of the location, figuring to do that once he arrived, and it proved relevant. It stood to reason that even in a crusade, Dwarves would find a better home underground rather than on the surface. Still, it was a curiosity, and of those that were here, he trusted the mage to know more.

"I can help scout, now that there is light", he offered. Himself and Ruarc ought to make a fair pair of scouts, and at least he would be able to not feel so much like dead weight in this party. Admittedly, it was not the best light, but it was enough that he did not have to carry a torch and negate the purpose of his scouting.

Conversation between Rakeesh and Aravashnial

Aravashnial puffs up a little when asked about the demon invasion and his voice takes on a lecturing tone. "Well it should not be a surprise to anyone who has a passing knowledge of the crusades, but as you asked... The wardstones are what prevents the armies of chaos from teleporting into the Kenabres and the same holds true for all the fortress cities encircling the worldwound. If you'll recall, right before the demons made their appearance, there was an explosion of some sort at the Kite that obliterated it completely. I would imagine that the explosion was either the cause or or result of the Kite's wardstone. It's destruction is the only possible explanation for the apparent teleporting in of Khorramzadeh and his minions."

Anevia gasps, "Gods have mercy. If the wardstone is gone, all those people up there are helpless."

Aravashnial grimaces in irritation at the interruption, but nods. "Well perhaps not completely helpless, there are still the crusaders stationed in the city, but the linchpin of our defenses have been broken. While there are magics that can mimic the wardstone's abilities, they have nowhere near the range. The raising of a wardstone requires divine aid. Kenabres' was the first and Iomedae's herald oversaw it personally. In time, it might be replaced and the city could be held without it, but that assumes that it has not completely been destroyed already...

Aravashnial's voice trails off as he realizes the enormity of what he has been so casually discussing. Anevia eyes glitter wetly and she looks to the stone ceiling above, mouthing a prayer.

At the entrance to the cavern with the church of Torag

@Ruarc: Listening intently, you hear occasional bursts of soft buzzing

Peering through the crowd gathered at the entrance to the temple chamber, Horgus spits. "Dwarves," he says in disgust. "Only they would think to build a place of worship in such a Godsforsaken place. I say we just leave it be. With all the racket we made coming it up here, if anyone was alive in there, they would have come out."

Anevia speaks up, "I respectfully disagree my lord. Whether or not this place is occupied. Torag is a goodly God and a house of his might provide us with a safe harbour should we need it. I say we go in."

Aravashnial agrees, "You must admit the lady has a point. Besides, if we don't investigate how will we ever find out who built it."

"My guess is a Dwarf," Horgus mutters, but leaves it at that.

I've updated the fliker maps under that campaign tab, if you want to see the layout of the cavern

"Torag is a good deity, and a strong ally of the Inheritor," says Aglamore. "It is right that we should ensure that all is well in his shrine, and to pay him homage. It may have been by the heroism of Terendelev that we survived, but it is the deep realm in which we now draw breath, and for that, at least, I mean to give thanks."

Aglamore strides purposefully toward the temple door.

"I hear an occasional buzzing from within. It may be inhabited by more insects of some sort," Ruarc warns before anyone moves further into the cavern. "We must proceed with the the utmost caution. Joao, do you have any skill with traps or locks?"

Aglamore stops when Ruarc says this. He wisely waits for the others.

Quietly nodding, Maeve frowns in realization that she is actually in agreement with the odious, fat little noble. Making a face as if she suddenly had a bad taste in her mouth, she stop and points. Horgus has a point. As much as I hate to admit it. Gesturing to the abandoned temple, Maeve shrugs. Its hard to say how long the shrine has been here for, but from what we have already heard, this tunnels are filled with degenerates and outcasts. If someone was here, they would have greeted us, or hid if they thought us to powerful. Isn't getting back to the surface the most important part?

"Yes, but based on how long we walked upward and that fact that we're still underground, I'd say we're going to be down here for a while until we find a way out. We might need whatever supplies or equipment could be inside later."

Ruarc is still awaiting Joao's reply about his skills with doors. He listens for the buzzing sound again, while watching the small temple attentively.

"We have been walking for some time... Dwarves build to last, and always with defense in mind. This would be a good place to take our rest and regain our strength."

I hear an occasional buzzing from within.

Rakeesh stood straight from the wall he had been using to take his ease. A wince of pain crossed his face as his ribs reminded him sharply of their bruises. "The buzzing of one insect, or of many thousands?"

Are we equipped to handle swarms?

Rakeesh stared solemnly at his blade. "I value this weapon. It has been of service to me my entire life. But, I have heard it said that demon-kind are nearly invulnerable to the cut of common steel. Only powerfully blessed weapons or those crafted of cold iron will penetrate their skin." He looked up at the walls of the dwarven enclave. "Dwarves in service to the Crusaders will have known this. If we are to seek vengeance on those above, we would do well to explore here below..."

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Tilting his head slightly, Joao listened for what Ruarc had mentioned. If there was indeed buzzing, then he could only think of more insects, though underground, were they likely to be more roaches like they had faced before? He knew that buzzing meant wings, at least.

"I am capable with either", he replied to Ruarc, also looking in the direction of the entrance. "Magical constructs are something else." He was inclined to examine the temple as well, since it was a chance at shelter for them, and perhaps some more information to be gleaned about where they were. Nodding his head towards the entrance, he moved towards the edge of it, reflexively pulling the scarf back up over his nose and mouth.

"Then you should examine the door," Ruarc replies to the human ninja. "Pytros, Rakeesh and I can cover your back while you work."

Joao listens quietly and picks up the same intermittent buzzing that Ruarc described. Taking a few cautious steps into the chamber, he stops short as a pair of large pale flies flit into view from around the stone building. Apparently, you've found the parents of the maggots who were feasting on the dead spider.

Round 1

21 Maeve
17 Joao
15 Aglamore
10 Flies
9 Ruarc
7 Pytros
7 Rakeesh

Maeve, Joao and Aglamore may act. Google map is updated. For people using the flikr map, everyone is directly outside of the room in the corridor except Joao who is just barely in

Aglamore hastens forward to take up a position beside Joao, readying his longspear to attack anything that approaches either of them.

Reach 10'. Hoping for AoO's.

Longspear +3 (1d8+4/x3)

Round 1, Init 7
hp 8/13, AC 15

Rakeesh attempted to intervene immediately, and immediately fell back to the wall clutching his ribs. His companions dashed into the fight ahead of him, and he could only watch as the flies countered. After a moment, he caught his breath and pushed the pain aside and waded into the fight.

If either of the flies is still alive: Move and Attack:: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Damage: 1d10 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

Round 1 Init 17, HP9/9, AC15

Action: Delay

Joao's eyebrows went up at the sight of the large flies and he relaxed a little. While he did not disregard them, given what they had run into before, a pair of flies seemed better. As he tensed to move, Aglamore stepping up beside him gave him some reassurance and a plan. Crouching a little lower so Aglamore would have a clear range of movement, he waited for the flies to come closer. "You hit them first, I will finish them off", he said confidently.

Round 1, Init 21

Moving quickly backwards as she sited the two pale bloated monstrously large flies, Maeve choose discretion over valor. Quietly she listened as the man, Joao called out instructions and the others readied themselves. Maeve however knew that battles were as much won in the mind as they were by skill of force. She doubted that a show of intimidation would scare the beasts off, mindless as they likely were. Instead she called upon the same power that she had used many times before to curse the nearest of the flies. Sending her will outward she felt at their rudimentary intelligence and focused on the fear, hunger and desire that all creatures held. She magnified the fear like shadows closing in around the creature, causing its movements to become shaky and hesitant.

SA: Cast Evil Eye (-2 AC)
Will save vs. Evil Eye DC 15: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (11) - 2 = 9

@Joao/all: Please let me know what init you are delaying till, so I can update the order.

Round 1

21 Maeve
17 Joao (delay)
15 Aglamore
10 Flies
9 Ruarc
7 Pytros
7 Rakeesh

The flies buzz in and Aglamore's spear whirls, striking one as it darts in to bite Joao,

AOOvsA: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
AoOvsB(EE): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Attack vs Aglamore: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Attack vs Joao: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Damage - Joao: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Fort save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13

Withe the way the combatants are situated, for anyone else to get into melee is going to require a tumble check. Everyone may act.

Out of spells and out of channels and too close to the flies to threaten them, Aglamore needs to back up. "I'll fall back as soon as one of you warriors is ready to step up," he calls.

Ready action to take a 5' step SE when any of the heavy-hitters indicates a readiness to step up. Once he's back there, attack the most injured fly. Longspear +3-4 (cover)= -1 to hit total. 1d8+4/x3

Round 1

Move up next to Joao, take the AOOs.

AOO #1 on me: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 Miss
AOO #2 on me: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17 Miss

Standard action; swing on the wounded one.

Ruarc attack on wounded fly: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22 Hit
Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

AC:21
HP:10/10

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Ruarc shoves his way past the cleric and steps up next to Joao. The two flies bite at him, but they fail to pierce his armor. He turns to the fly that was wounded by Aglamore as it approached. The buzzing sound, and scent of carrion are strong and unpleasant. Ruarc grimaces firmly, stabbing half of Justice's long dark blade through the glittering compound eye of the overgrown insect. With a grunt, the inquisitor twists his razor-sharp blade with a levered motion and cuts the fly clean in half. Ichor splatters as the two halves of the still twitching corpse impact on the cave floor.

Round 1, Initiative 7
hp 11/11; AC 15/11T/14FF; +3F/+1R/+2W

MA: Move into position
SA: Whip vs. Giant Fly #2 (cover, AC 17) 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
> Damage (nonlethal) 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Pytros steps into the narrow gap behind the spear-wielding cleric. His whip gives him additional reach to attack the giant insects, but it is a difficult angle. Ruarc steps forward and thrusts his blade into one of them, giving him an opening for just a moment right as Rakeesh pushes his own way into the crowded gap. He steps forward and sets his feet, biding his time for a perfect strike. The tip of the whip snaps between Ruarc and Joao in the half-moment while Ruarc still has the other one skewered. He hits the insect squarely in its hideous face, stopping the buzzing of its wings for a brief moment. "Joao! Now!"

Apologies, I was waiting for the setup, but should have had a conditional spoiler for it.
Round 1, Delayed until Init 7
AC15, HP 5/9,
Move Action: Acrobatics to avoid AoO Acrobatics to Avoid AoO: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Standard action: Flanked Attack: 1d20 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 1 + 2 = 22, Damage: 1d6 + 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (4) + (6) + 1 = 11(Nonlethal)

The number of attacks that were successful were surprising in the couple of seconds that they occurred. Surprising and reassuring Joao had no idea that a fly could bite that hard. A diving roll brought him past the fly without getting bitten again, and it was slow in turning to face him. By the time it did, he was already turning head over heels in a quick cartwheeling kick, that hit it hard enough to send it to the floor, unconscious.

The sound of the fly's body hitting the ground let him know that the fight was over from that angle, at least. Crouching slightly again, he looked at the fly to make sure, and looked around at what they could see again. As soon as they got a second, he would bind his arm with his scarf, surprised that an insect could deliver a wound like that.