[PFS] #5–08: The Confirmation (Play-by-Post; Table 2) (Inactive)

Game Master Robert Brookes

Mors - Round 2

Mors spits a glob of flea guts from his mouth as he steps over next to Helgoron, shaking his head at Thaddeus’s reference. ”You and me must remember Pezzack different.” He watches in the direction of Helgoron’s readied weapon, preparing his own strike. ”For starters, weren’t you pantsless at the time?”

___________
ACTIONS

Move: 2 squares left (to N.18)
Standard: ready a longsword strike if an opponent steps into range.

Falv smiled. "Ok, this my not be as difficult as I thought." He stepped forward a bit to place himself even more between the flea and Rahk, holding his ball and chain in one hand and drawing one of his throwing axes as he stepped forward. As he stopped, his arm raised back and he hurled the axe at the flea. One the weapon left his hand, he gripped the dwarven weapon back in both hands, ready should it try to pass him by.

Seeing Jorun acting like he wanted to charge the flea, Falv whispered a calming word to keep Jorun next to him.
_______
[ooc]COMBAT - Round 2
Free action: hold dorn-dergar in one hand
Move action: Move to J19, drawing throwing axe as go. (Jorun in J20)
Standard Action: Throw Axe (-2 for range 20') -
Attack:1d20 + 3 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (12) + 3 + 1 - 2 = 14
Damage:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

”You and me must remember Pezzack different. For starters, weren’t you pantsless at the time?”

Thad steps gingerly away from the missile of gore and spittle, face a mix of disgust and annoyance. "Honestly, Mors... I'll never understand why your people seem to put such emphasis on public modesty. The summer weather made garments quite unnecessary. Besides, that Strix woman didn't seem to mind..."

Spinning his long spear with an unconscious flourish, he pivots into place behind Mors and braces the weapon with an air of routine bordering on monotony.

=-=-= COMBAT | ROUND 2 =-=-=
Move: Diagonally to 018(a)
Standard: Readied Attack (Braced)
Long spear, Brace, Inspire: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 2 + 1 = 20
Damage, Brace, Inspire: 2d8 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (5, 1) + 6 + 2 = 14

Helgoron lumbers forward while retrieving the massive polearm from his back, his eyes burning with inner fire. "These are but vermin," he comments. "But today is not their day," he then adds decisively, setting his weapon in front of him, ready for a possible incoming charge.

Rahk's eyes flicker over towards where Mors had, in an instant, drawn a weapon and cut down one of the fleas even before the half-orc had time to consider which spell to cast. The wizard's mouth splits open into a wide grin.

"Heh," Rahk chuckles, "No sense wasting any magical energy on these vermin, then." He removes his crossbow from its sling and affixes a bolt to the lath. The crossbow makes a light clicking sound as he pulls back the lever, drawing the bow taut.

Mors spits a glob of flea guts from his mouth as he steps over next to Helgoron, shaking his head at Thaddeus’s reference. ”You and me must remember Pezzack different.” He watches in the direction of Helgoron’s readied weapon, preparing his own strike. "For starters, weren’t you pantsless at the time?"

Thaddeus steps gingerly away from the missile of gore and spittle, face a mix of disgust and annoyance. "Honestly, Mors... I'll never understand why your people seem to put such emphasis on public modesty. The summer weather made garments quite unnecessary. Besides, that Strix woman didn't seem to mind..." Spinning his long spear with an unconscious flourish, he pivots into place behind Mors and braces the weapon with an air of routine bordering on monotony.

Falvreab smiles to himself. "Ok, this my not be as difficult as I thought." He steps forward a bit to place himself even more between the flea and Rahk, holding his ball and chain in one hand and drawing one of his throwing axes as he steps forward. In the blink of an eye Falvreab hurls the axe at the flea, embedding it in the monster's thick, chitinous hide and sending it skittering back ten feet through the dead leaves and dirt. The critter's legs kick, twitch, and then curl up against its underbelly.

Then the forest is quiet.
 
 
 
              [ ENCOUNTER RESOLVED! ]
 
 
 
Janira exhales a relieved sigh when she sees how skilled her companions are, brushing back an errant lock of blonde hair from her brow. Waiting a moment to make sure the last flea isn't getting up, Janira seems satisfied enough to eventually let her guard down. "Well!" She notes cheerfully, "That certainly went in our favor, didn't it?"

Adjusting the straps on her pack, Janira reaches down to her side and pulls out her wayfinder, flipping it open and watching the compass needle pivot and turn until it finally comes to a stop. "Well, we're right on course. Though..." wrinkling her nose, she looks up at the dense canopy overhead, then to the dappling of sunlight filtering through to the forest floor. "I'm worried we might not make it to the cave by dusk."

Looking to the others, Janira raises one brow. "Are any of you good in the wild? We could probably take a shortcut to make some time, but I'm not that much of a trailblazer." Grimacing, the halfling closes her wayfinder. "Otherwise we're going to need to pull double-time."

______________
OPTION: THE SHORTEST PATH BETWEEN TWO POINTS.
 
Janira is concerned the party isn't going to make it to the caves in time. If you'd like to try and find an alternate route, one party member may declare they are making a Survival check to trailblaze. Any other party members who would like to assist must declare they are aiding another when making their rolls.
 
If the trailblazing attempt is not successful (or you opt not to try) you will instead need to make a forced march, or else risk arriving late.
 
Please make your choice as a party now.

Looking to the others, Janira raises one brow. "Are any of you good in the wild? We could probably take a shortcut to make some time, but I'm not that much of a trailblazer." Grimacing, the halfling closes her wayfinder. "Otherwise we're going to need to pull double-time."

Clucking his tongue, Thaddeus shakes his head. "I fear I would be of little help in that area." Walking over to the second flea's corpse, he yanks free Falvreab's axe from the creature's tough chitinous shell. Examining the ooze covering the blade, he examines the creature and makes notes and a sketch in his journal.

Walking back to the others, he hands the gore-soaked weapon to Falvreab.

=-=-= Journal Entry - Day 1: Supplemental =-=-=
     Our respite was interrupted by the arrival of two specimens of what appears to be Ctenocephalides Gigas - most definitely some exceedingly large suborder of Siphonaptera. [ Illustration below. ]

          -=-=- Sketch of Giant Flea -=-=-

     Our group proved more than equal to the task of eliminating the threat, but the delay may cost us, unless one of our number proves able to find a quicker path to our destination.

As the second flea twitches in its death throes, Mors nods to his new pathfinder group-mates. Then, without much thought, he flips his dagger into a normal grip and resheaths it before carefully wiping his longsword clean on his own pants leg ... leaving a streak of flea guts which he doesn't seem to care about.

At mention of trailblazing, he gives a helpless shrug of his heavy shoulders, "Either way, as long as we get there in time." As he waits to see if someone is trained to help them find a shortcut, he takes a moment to inspect his longsword's blade with his thumb. With a satisfied nod, he returns it, too, to its resting place over his shoulder before resettling his gear on his shoulders.

"Well, dat waz quick! Good ting we got able bodied killa's in are midst

Brox ables out of the brush, picking errant thistles from his dirty leather armor.

"Aint much good at 'trailblazin'' though. Hope'n one er yer kin do it"

"Very well done indeed" - Helgoron reinforces with a nod - "That was a clean and well carried out combat, my friends"

Listening attentively to Janira's words, the tiefling stares at the terrain around them - "Unfortunately I am not an expert tracker or outdoorsman - I am afraid I can be of no assistance in that aspect" - he ponders - "It seems we will need to hurry our pace"

Falv took the axe back from Thaddeus with a nod and a smile. As he cleaned the weapon he listened to Janira. He put his hand on Jorun's head, petting it and scratching it behind it's ear.

"I do have some experience with travel in the wilderness. Jorun here has proven to be a help at times too. Between us we may be able to find a shortcut."

Rahk pulls the crossbow's lever, letting the tension slowly out of the string before returning both the ammunition and weapon to their rightful places. He flashes a thumbs up to his fellow Pathfinder initiates.

"I have no practical trailblazing experience either. I could tell you which one's a stick and which one's a tree, but elsewise my wilderness skills are lacking," he says with a frown. "Falvreab, if you've experience, we'll follow you and your...Jorun," Rahk gestures towards the velociraptor. "If not, we'd better get running."

"Then I say we give him a crack at it." He unstoppers his waterskin and takes a swallow before looking at Falv, "Feel free to put me to work. Hells, I might even learn somethin'."

Once Falvreab makes the Survival check I will move us forward.

If allowable, an untrained Aid Another for Falvreab...
Survival DC 10: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

Survival (Jorun for aid): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Survival (Falv with aid from Jorun and Mors): 1d20 + 5 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 5 + 2 + 2 = 19

Survival Aid Another: 1d20 ⇒ 8
Blah, close.

Not even going to try aid another :D

While the majority of the team has little expertise in the wild, Falvreab happens to be an expert in these matters. With the help of Mors and his trusty saurian companion Jorun (and in spite of Rahk's reassurance that he's done orienteering before), the barbarian and his companion help scout a path ahead through the woods. Falvreab's familiarity with woodland survival is adept and Mors' assistance as a spotter helps speed the group's pace along, allowing for them to effectively scout and travel together, spotting dead-ends, blockages, and other disruptions to their forward progress. Following Janira's guidance with her wayfinder, the party makes the last two hours of the trek through the ancient forest with ease.
 
 
 
 
 
 

       << Kortos Mounts | Clear Skies, Warm | Dusk, Erastus 2nd, 4714 AR >>
 
 
 
 
 
 
The entire way through the forest, Falvreab has been unable to shake a feeling that something is off; a sentiment shared by Jorun, who fidgets and twitches restlessly. It's not because of any one event or sign, but something about this section of forest leaves the barbarian ill at ease. The forest is quieter than usual, foliage more sparse, well traveled. Worse yet are signs of scarring ten feet up on some of the pine trees, like in the way stags scratch their antlers on a tree during molting season, but the markings don't seem right.. Nothing seems to have been through the area recently enough to have left tracks, but the whole experience has lingered in the back of Falvreab's mind like a cloud, distantly rumbling thunder; like a warning.

Eventually, sound of running water carries alongside the chirp of birds and cry of other forest creatures. Urging the group to follow the sound, Janira and Hans lead the party through the remaining woodlands until eventually the dense forest opens to a wide clearing at the base of a sheer cliff. A flock of colorful sea birds erupt from a perch atop the cliff as the group makes their way out of the underbrush, soaring overhead and disappearing beyond the treetops. Thick vines cover the surface of the cliff stretching 30 feet overhead. "Here!" Janira shouts, moving ahead of Hans with her wayfinder held aloft. "The cave entrance is behind those vines!"

As Janira emerges from the forest into the clearing, she looks back to the others, closing her wayfinder. She quickly hustles across the clearing and down into the banks of a gently flowing and relatively shallow river that—even with her modest height—only comes up to her waist. Coming out on the other side of the river, Janira comes to a stop at the cave and pulls back the vines concealing the entrance she'd spotted of before. "This is where I saw the gillmen enter."

As she motions toward the aperture, the surrounding woods come alive with the sound of small animals fleeing some unseen danger; birds scatter from the trees and immediately Falvreab's bad feeling is justified as a large creature comes crashing through the undergrowth. With a thunderous presence the massive, horned monstrosity emerges from the trees. Standing eight feet tall on a pair of cloven hooves and wielding a tremendous, notched axe, the bull-headed creature roars with unbridled anger when it spots the group. There is fury, deep and resentful, burning in the dark eyes of this foe.

A minotaur.

Making a snap judement, Janira swings her backpack off of her shoulders and hurls it into the cave entrance. "Take my pack and get into the cave! I'll distract it! Run!" She urges, uncoiling her whip from her side with a crack of its tip, drawing the minotaur's attention with a ferocious snort.

"Go now! RUN!"

        << Encounter: Mess With The Horns | Terrain: Hills | Hazards: Water | Map Link: None Yet >>
 
 
 
 
 
 
__________________________
DECISION
 
The party's travel through the woods has attracted the attention of a ferocious minotaur. Janira seems to believe the creature poses too great a threat for the party and has moved to intercept it and lure the monstrous beast away, urging the PCs to enter the cave and continue their Confirmation.
 
Make your choice: Stay and fight, or withdraw into the caves.

In the face of such a monstrous threat, Mors summons every bit of glibness left to him. "Uhhhhh..."

While he draws his longsword, his feet are already carrying him quickly to the cave entrance.

Much as I'd love to score a Minotaur kill on my first outing with Mors, I'd love to survive even more. So ... live to fight, better part of valor, Plan B, and all that. (Mors reluctantly votes to book it.)

Nodding grudgingly, Thaddeus grips the halfling's pack in one hand, dragging it toward the cave ingress, spear ready in the other. "As you wish, Pathfinder. Do try to come back alive - we still have much to study."

Rahk makes a noticeable effort not to show any fear on his face, but the sheer size of the minotaur obviously has an effect on the half-orc's confidence. "Right, we're gone. You'd better come back alive; I'd hate to have need to explain to Master Shaine why we decided to break his one rule," Rahk growls.

How far away is the minotaur? If it is within 25 feet, I'd like to try to cast grease underneath it to help Janira make her escape before abandoning her. Otherwise, Rahk will cast dancing lights in a humanoid shape near the minotaur, and have the lights "run" off in a direction opposite Janira and the party before heading down into the cave.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27
Mostly for any helpful knowledge about minotaurs to either shout at Janira, or knowledge on the best way to distract one without drawing attention to us.

Youse better have a plan pip-squeak! I don' like lettin' 'er off 'lone wit dat t'ing...she better 'ave a plan is all...

I'll half step it to the cave, looking back often to see if Janira having too much trouble with the minotaur.

Falv's first instinct was to rush the big creature, to protect the rest of the group. However, since Janira urged them to run into the cave and the others did just that, Falv decided to follow them as he was sure they would need some help. As he moved to the entrance he readied his ball and chain and called to Jorun to heel..

As the group moves toward the cave, Janira rushes the minotaur and tumbles beneath it, rolling under its massive legs and springing out the other side into a backflip. The canny bard skids along the grassy earth, then cracks her whip in an ineffective—although stinging—lash across the minotaur's backside. The horned beast turns its back to the party, just as Rahk speaks aloud an incantation of arcane power. Sigils and glyphs whirl around his hands as he weaves the runes into a tapestry of energy that discharges at the minotaur's flank, appearing as an effervescent cloud of luminous smoke in vague humanoid form, drifting towards the treeline.

With an enraged bovine roar, the minotaur swings its axe in consecutive loops at Janira who nimbly springs back and away, clearly fighting at her full defensive capabilities. The minotaur eyes the lights going further into the forest and turns its right side towards it, uncertain if the light is a threat or not. As Rahk watches Janira distract the minotaur, it becomes clear that she's trying to bide her time for the others to depart before moving away. It's sign enough that she seems to have the situation under control—for now. Unfortunately, all Rahk can recall about minotaurs are fairy-tales and cultural references from a Chelish play about Baphomet's escape from the Ivory Labyrinth of Asmodeus. A naturalist's training would be more helpful.

One by one, as the Pathfinders disappear into the darkness of the cave, the sounds of Janira's whip cracking and the roar of the minotaur sound twice more, each time further and further away. She gave no promises to Rahk or Thaddeus about returning, likely because she prefers not to make promises she may not be able to keep...
 
 
 
 
 
 
      << The Pilgrim's Cave, Kortos | Underground, Cool | Dusk, Erastus 2nd, 4714 AR >>
 
 
 
 
 
 
With Janira's backpack of supplies, the group makes its way deeper into the cave, reluctantly following her orders. Eventyually, the sounds of Janira's running battle disappears all together, replaced by the echo of the Pathfinders footfalls in the narrow ten foot wide cave, and the distant sound of running water.

While it seemed as though the cave the Pathfinders venture into is subsumed in darkness, the gloom subsides after only a few feet into the narrow passage, where patches of luminescent blue fungus grow on the cave walls. This plentiful fungus sheds like like hundreds of candles through the glossy, damp cave, revealing strange carvings on the walls.

These petroglyphs—primarily spirals and silhouettes of aquatic creatures—look to range across a myriad of ages. Some of them are ancient and faded, while others look to have been carved recently. The glowing fungus and petroglyphs continue down the twisting, narrow tunnel for several hundred feet before slowly opening to a wider passage. A large hole spans the cave’s width and stretches ten feet down the path. At the bottom of the pit lies a small bundle of what might be cloth, spotted with mold.

With the pit taking up the full width of the tunnel, the Pathfinders will need to find a means to bypass it.

___________________
GAMEPLAY
 
Given that the party has made the decision to elude the minotaur, you have now ventured down into the cave systems below the Kortos Mounts. After several hundred feet of a descent, you have come to a pit that makes forward progress tricky. The pit is ten feet wide (as wide as the tunnel) as well as ten feet long and twenty feet deep.
 
Obvious means to circumvent the pit are as follows:
 
You can attempt to get a running start and leap across the pit with an Acrobatics check (DC 12; 10 + 2 for slippery footing), or carefully drop down into the pit (no check), and Climb up the other side (DC 15).

Oh, monstrous humanoid. Right. :P

Journal Entry: Petroglyphs
<A few rough sketches and charcoal rubbings of the petroglyphs>

"...Of course, Asmodeus was none too pleased when he found that Baph-" Rahk cuts short his rambling re-telling of a Chelish murder-play that his half-cousin's friend once saw, and stares down at the pit. As his brow furrows in thought, a slow frown overtakes his features. "Hm. Don't suppose anyone has any rope? If someone particularly spider-esque was willing to climb up, he could lower a rope and the rest of us would have a much easier climb."

"Rope? No, I fear not - I recommend we divide Janira's gear up among ourselves. It will spread the burden out among us, and these might come in handy. Start with any scrolls you know how to use. And anyone with experience of wands, as well." Eyeing the combustible vials, Thaddeus lays the contents of the pack out in neat, organized rows.

I'm happy to hold on to these, and the throwables really fit with what I had in mind for Thad, but feel free to chime in for anything you'd like to use going forward.

At the mention of rope, Mors turns back around to face the group and pit. He’d been looking back down towards the cave entrance, something he’d done occasionally since they entered the dark. ”I got rope,” he mutters as he drops to a knee and begins pulling a coil of rope from his pack.

As he works, he looks between Thaddeus and Rahk, ”Knowing what’s in Janira’s pack is smart. Could come in handy. You two gonna be able to tell us what everything is?” He pulls free the last coil of the 50 feet of rope, ”If so, now’s a good time.”

Seeing that the two smart members of the group have a bit of work left to them in order to identify all of Janira’s items that they can, Mors finds a spot on the floor near one of the glowing plant-things. Then he fishes out his journal and charcoal, opening to the second page. After a few seconds of staring at the blank parchment, he shrugs and begins writing. Slowly.

____________
Journal Entry #1: Erastus 2nd, 4714 AR
Kortos Caves

We’ve walked for two days. Just got to the caves near the ocean. It smells like salt water. Reminds me of home. Janira said this is where our Confirmation test is. We’re supposed to map the caves and find out what the gillmen are doing here. Don’t know what gillmen are. I think they’re fish people. As soon as we got to the caves a huge bull-man appeared with a giant axe. Looked pissed. Rahk says its a minotaur. I’ve never seen one before. Janira threw us her pack and told us to run to the caves. Seemed the smart thing to do. Hope she can handle the big guy. Hope we see her soon.

Caves have a lot of rock carvings. And glowing plants. Never seen glowing plants before. Right now we’re figuring out how to cross a pit.

Oh yah, and we killed some dog-sized fleas on the way here. Wonder if there are flea-sized dogs somewhere.
____________

Finally finished with his journaling, Mors stands back up and slides it back into the satchel at his waist. With a look of curiosity on his thick features, he steps up to the edge of the pit, staring down into the darkness. ”Huh …” Deciding that whatever’s at the bottom of the pit is worth a better look, the Chelaxian turns to focus on one end of his rope, once again bringing every ounce of his concentration to bear. With a muttered prayer for light, the first few inches of the rope take on a soft glow. After a grin of satisfaction and shake of his head, he lowers the rope down.

As he peers downwards into the pit, he mutters back to the group, ”Someone should go down and take a look at that …. what is that, cloth?”

Perception (at the cloth or for dangers at the bottom of the pit): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Thaddeus examines the potion vials, easily identifying the contents in a matter of minutes. Cautiously approaching the edge of the pit, he scans for traps along the edge or bottom.
 
 

Apologies for the delay people - last couple of days have been crazy busy with job hunting and a family weekend.

At the sound of something BIG crashing through the woods, the tiefling set himself ready to receive and fight anything that could be coming at them - he was not expecting the monstrosity that made its appearance, he did not know if they stood a chance against it, but still he gripped his weapon so tight, the very knuckles on both hands went white, ready to charge and strike.

But then... Janira told them to run and make an escape while she charged in alone...

He froze. They could not leave her to face that creature alone, could they? Maybe they could, but he couldn't. He would stay there, and fight beside her, like before... But this time he would protect her. She would live!

"Take my pack and get into the cave! I'll distract it! Run!" She urges, uncoiling her whip from her side with a crack of its tip, drawing the minotaur's attention with a ferocious snort.

"Go now! RUN!"

"No!" - he roared, shaking away the images of Talian whittling away in a dark cave - "No!"

Janira rushes the minotaur and tumbles beneath it, rolling under its massive legs and springing out the other side into a backflip. The canny bard skids along the grassy earth, then cracks her whip in an ineffective—although stinging—lash across the minotaur's backside. The horned beast turns its back to the party, just as Rahk speaks aloud an incantation of arcane power. Sigils and glyphs whirl around his hands as he weaves the runes into a tapestry of energy that discharges at the minotaur's flank, appearing as an effervescent cloud of luminous smoke in vague humanoid form, drifting towards the treeline.

With an enraged bovine roar, the minotaur swings its axe in consecutive loops at Janira who nimbly springs back and away, clearly fighting at her full defensive capabilities. The minotaur eyes the lights going further into the forest and turns its right side towards it, uncertain if the light is a threat or not. As Rahk watches Janira distract the minotaur, it becomes clear that she's trying to bide her time for the others to depart before moving away. It's sign enough that she seems to have the situation under control—for now.

One by one, as the Pathfinders disappear into the darkness of the cave, the sounds of Janira's whip cracking and the roar of the minotaur sound twice more, each time further and further away. She gave no promises to Rahk or Thaddeus about returning, likely because she prefers not to make promises she may not be able to keep...

But somehow he realized, amidst the fog of his own doubts, that she was protecting them, offering an opportunity to live and fight another day, with much more clairvoyance then he himself was showing. Convincing himself of that, he fell in place behind the others, and into the darkness.

Moving inside, the haunted paladin stares at the carvings all around them while still gripping his weapon tightly.

At the mention of rope, Mors turns back around to face the group and pit. He’d been looking back down towards the cave entrance, something he’d done occasionally since they entered the dark. ”I got rope,” he mutters as he drops to a knee and begins pulling a coil of rope from his pack.

As he works, he looks between Thaddeus and Rahk, ”Knowing what’s in Janira’s pack is smart. Could come in handy. You two gonna be able to tell us what everything is?” He pulls free the last coil of the 50 feet of rope, ”If so, now’s a good time.”

"I have rope also" - he adds to Mors' words - the practical issue at hand allowing him some respite from dark memories - "I will assist in setting it, and then check the bottom of this pit"

Invoking his own powers, senses enhanced, he observes what seems like a simple cloth, for signs of magic.

Casting Detect Magic, and checking the pit for anything suspicious or out of place.

Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (14) + 0 = 14

I am SO perceptive ;)

Once he feels reassured that there is no immediate danger, Helgash starts climbing down, checking the bottom of the pit, then moving back up on the other side, dropping and holding a rope for the others to climb, while keeping watch.

Climb: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Rolling in order.

Rahk fails to identify all but a single scroll of entangle; the other scrolls remain a mystery to him. Both wands are successfully identified, however.

"Hm. Well, I'm fairly certain these are scrolls. Made of paper. Canvas, maybe," he states, scowling. "The wands, at least, I can understand. I can use this one," he says, holding up the wand of burning hands, "But this one would work best in the hands of someone versed in healing arts," he continues, waving the wand of cure light wounds in the air.

Thaddeus and Mors stand at the muddy edge of the pit, staring down into the bottom where more of the luminescent fungus sheds a soft azure light. Neither see anything obviously dangerous, save for how muddy the walls are and how soft the earth is. The corners of the pit are smoothed and rounded, making it further unlikely that climbing out would be easy. While they look on, Rahk inspects the objects from Janira's backpack with a studious eye, and Helgoron begins a descent down into the pit to further investigate.

The tiefling finds it challenging to scale down the wall of the pit—even with the rope—as the mud gives way to slippery hand-holds and loose stones, making bracing against the pit wall unhelpful. By the time he makes it to the bottom, landing with a squelch of boots in mud, he's covered in the muck. Judging from how dank and brackish the pit smells, it might flood depending on the status of the tides.

Picking up the bundle of cloth that lays in the inch or so of brackish water, Helgoron discovers that it's a cloak of some fashion, and one that radiates magic. The fabric is soft and slippery to the touch, like woven strands of unusual, violet-colored kept. A mother-of-pearl seashell clasp give off a metallic sheen and pins with a narrow spiral conch fashioned made from seaglass. Around the neckline of the cloak is a bright blue embroidery with an opalescent iridescence that looks to be some sort of writing.

With the cloak in hand, Helgoron scales up the other side of the pit with a slippery struggle against the wet earth, and makes it up to the other ledge with brackish mud caking his hands and feet.

__________________
GAMEPLAY
 

From the other side of the pit, Helgoron urges the others - "Come now friends. I will assist the climb if necessary" - he nods - "Also this cloth is actually a cloak, one radiating with a magical aura, hence we will need your expertise" - he smiles.

Rahk slowly climbs down into the pit, taking great care to place his feet on sturdy outcroppings so as not to fall.

Climb: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14
Rahk firmly grasps the rope that Helgoron has let down and scurries up the wall with relative ease, given the half-orc's lack of muscle. Rahk looks down at his robe and boots with disgust, as both seem to have gathered their share of mud and muck.

Rahk will take 20 for Linguistics to read the inscription, assuming he has time. I believe one can take 20 on that roll?
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24 Woop!

"This is a cloak of resistance," Rahk notes, struggling to keep pride at his successful identification out of his voice. "It...well, resists things. Or rather, it enhances one's own natural resistances to things like magic, poisons, and so on. Like,"[b] Rahk pauses to search for an appropriate analogy, [b]"a beetle's exoskel - Hm. No, not really like that. Still, it's a convenient item."

There's a penalty for failure so you can't take a 20, unfortunately!

Mors takes the wand offered by Rahk, slipping it into an empty slot on his bandolier. "I'll go last," he says as he watches the first of the half-orcs go down into the pit.

He stands silent guard as the group traverse, and—when the time comes—makes his own muddy way down one side.

Once everyone is up on the far side ...
Climb: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (2) + 0 = 2
Climb: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (8) + 0 = 8
Climb: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (15) + 0 = 15

The second, climb, however, is not so easy. "Third time's a charm," he grunts darkly as he finally clears the obstacle ... fully caked with mud.

Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Wisdom Check: 1d20 ⇒ 10

Rahk squints at the words on the cloak, then rubs his eyes. "Words," he states confidently.

"In any case, one of our frontline-men will probably gain the greatest benefit from this cloak," he says holding out the cloak for someone to take from him.

Shrugging to himself, Thaddeus gathers up the potions again, nestling a few into his bandolier, and the rest back into the pack. Working his way down the rope, he curses softly as he struggles to climb back up, but makes the traverse without injury.

Climb: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
 Climb: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Gesturing to the cloak, he calls out to Helgoron, seemingly unaware of his mud-caked visage. "Here, now - what's this about the cloak? Hmmm... Abjuration school... yes, that would make sense. The script rings familiar, but I can't make it out."

Linguistics, Inspiration: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (11) + 7 + (4) = 22
 Knowledge Arcana, Inspiration: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 7 + (6) = 19

Adding potions and unidentified scrolls to my gear list for inventory purposes.

From wherever he is while the question of the cloak comes up (whether that's pre-, mid-, or post-climb), Mors grunts. "Either way. Helgoron?"

Mechanically, our saves are pretty similar. And Helgoron's got a few more HP's, but not by much. He's also got some resists that Mors lacks, but I'm good either way.

I'll hop across the pit.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15

T'row da rope up 'ere and I'll 'elp yer up! Den we kin toss it 'cross da pit fer th'others.

After says so, Brox nudges Helgoron knowingly,

Why'd yer take da long way? hehe

Seeing how "loot distribution" is going, Brox "stage-whispers" to himself

"Oi Brox, mebbe youse might like dis 'ere cloak...it's roit magic an' stuff" to the group if'n yer was any kind of prop'ah I might'o 'eard some'fink like dat.

From wherever he is while the question of the cloak comes up (whether that's pre-, mid-, or post-climb), Mors grunts. "Either way. Helgoron?"

"You keep it my friend" - the tiefling nods - "My fiendish inheritage affords me some protection, and I am sure you will put it to good use"

After says so, Brox nudges Helgoron knowingly,

Why'd yer take da long way? hehe

"Just to avoid the need for you to scrape me from the bottom of the pit" - Helgoron retorts with a fanged smile.

Item: Cloak of Resistance +1 acquired!

:D

I'm going to wait to narrate it in until we get a post about our attempts to cross the Pit of Muddy Doom! from Robert.

Brox RedGloves wrote:

After says so, Brox nudges Helgoron knowingly,

Why'd yer take da long way? hehe

"Just to avoid the need for you to scrape me from the bottom of the pit" - Helgoron retorts with a fanged smile.

Aint da Pit where youse began?

Helgoron stares hard at the half-Orc, the flames in his eyes flaring momentarily, then breaks into a rumbling laughter - "in all honesty I do not know Brox, but I believe you are probably right - and most likely one deeper and darker than this"

With journals updated and the pit traversed, the Pathfinder initiates continue their journey into the cave system, guided by the dim light of the fluorescent fungus bristling from the walls. The tunnel beyond the pit continues for several more minutes, snaking through the earth in meandering fashion. Water drips intermittently from the ceiling and the walls—crusted with calcium deposits—glisten with moisture. The air is cool and damp, cooler still the further the group progresses. Up ahead, the blue illumination intensifies as the fungus grows denser and the tunnel begins to widen and the ceiling raise.

Eventually, the tunnel empties out into an spacious cavern that echoes every sound the travelers make. The ceiling in this large cave goes up sixty feet, where enormous stalactites loom like teeth overhead. The floor of the cave is uneven and glistening in the fungal light with small, tiered pools of delicate calcium deposits resembling tiered baths cascade down from the tunnel entrance. In the dim blue light, what must have once been beautifully carved reliefs and inscriptions can be seen, though they have since weathered heavily, their features dulled and softened to the point that it is hard to distinguish what each once depicted. They appear to reveal humanoid forms performing tasks, some overgrown with phosphorescent fungus, others covered by centuries of calcium deposits and eroded by water.

Spreading out into the cave and examining the reliefs, the group sees that four of them are intact enough to get an idea of what they may have said. The writing, while faded, is partly legible but written in a pidgin language that resembles the script found on the cloak, but not exactly. One of the reliefs depicts a humanoid figure using his hands to bevel the sides of a clay pot on a potter's wheel, another relief depicts another figure hunched over a writing desk, scribing on a long scroll, while the next relief shows a tall and broad-shouldered humanoid carrying a lantern aloft through what looks like an urban settlement, and the last legible relief is of someone sewing a hem on a long trail of cloth ornately embellished with many different patterns, wrapping around a miniature city like a moat.

Beyond the collection of reliefs, there is a wide tunnel on the far side of the cave that looks to lead to an adjacent chamber, and blue-burning torches light the tunnel from within ovoid sconces carved in the rock.

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GAMEPLAY
 
The party has discovered a series of 12 reliefs carved in the cave, centuries old. Most of them are so old that the detail of what they are can no longer be discerned, however four of them are intact enough to make out some of the writing and scenery, as described above.
 
Deciphering the Reliefs
Deciphering the images and writing is difficult because of their eroded state; a successful DC 15 Knowledge (history or religion) or Linguistics check is needed to understand one carved section.
 
Alternatively, a PC can use Appraise or Perception with a –2 penalty. The writing combines Aquan and Azlanti, and a PC receives a +2 bonus on his skill check for each of these languages he can understand.
 
For every 3 points by which you exceed a check’s DC, you are able to understand an additional section (maximum of four total sections by any method).

If I understand correctly, it's one roll to cover everything?
Knowledge (History): 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (14) + 7 + (1) = 22

Thaddeus mumbles to himself while inspecting the reliefs, scribbling notes and sketches into his notebook.

Mors steps into the alien-looking room and stops, eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene. He lets out a slow, wonder-filled whistle that seems to bounce around the cavern.

Perception (-2 penalty): 1d20 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 - 2 = 8

Mors takes a slow circuit of the room, pausing at each of the recognizable images. "What do you think they mean?"

1. Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17 Pictograph One (pot) deciphered, but Thaddeus already made it.

In case we can make more checks per character (it sounded like we each get one check per intact relief?), I am making the other three now. If this is incorrect, I will instead use the first roll for Pictograph Two.

2. Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26 Pictograph Two (scribe and scroll) deciphered, plus three others.
3. Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18 Pictograph Three (lantern) deciphered, plus one other.
4. Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18 Pictograph Four (cloth and city) deciphered, plus one other.

When it says "maximum of four total sections by any method," is it a maximum of four for the Linguistics skill, or a maximum of four per roll?

Rahk removes his journal from his pack, flips it open to an empty page, and begins drawing the images found on the wall.

Journal Entry: 12 Reliefs Found on Cave Wall
<This entry contains redrawn versions of the images found on the wall, with the results of Rahk's linguistics knowledge annotating the drawings. It will be continued with any information that others provide on the subject.>

GM: For the sake of time, I'll also roll a second time. Take it or leave it at your discretion.
Knowledge (History):: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (19) + 7 + (3) = 29

Helgoron stares in amazement at the wondrous cave - "Not all dark places are made solely of darkness" - he speaks as much to himself as to his companion, actually approaching the reliefs and touching them with his hands - "They seem to depict mundane tasks - craftsmen and women, workers" - he ponders aloud - "How long must these have been here?" - he lets the thought hang - "Maybe centuries ago, this was not a cave at all, or someone lived here, leading their daily tasks - and today it is a mistery we attempt to unravel" - the usually pragmatic and straightforward tiefling states with a smile, as he studies the images for a few moments, just to move further along and keeping a watch over the next passageway.

Knowledge (Religion): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Sorry for the lack of update last night, got a little too invested in the Destiny beta! Working on one now!

@Rahk: It means there's one check to represent the collective of scenes. For every 3 by which you beat the DC, you decipher another relief's meaning (up to a maximum of 4, since the others are illegible). I'll use your first roll to represent your investigation.
 
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Thaddeus, Mors, and Rahk fan out around the cave once the reliefs are recognized, leaving Brox and Falvreab by the cave entrance. While Mors' curiosity is admirable, his lacking instruction on matters historical and religious afford him little help in deciphering these strange glyphs and sigils, as well as the identities of the faded figures carved in the ancient reliefs. Tracing his hand over some of the etched words, he can feel a strange connection to these symbols and the eroded figures depicted above them. It feels like something once experienced, perhaps in a dream or a distant memory, as if this place was significant and important to Mors somehow, like returning to an old home or receiving a loving parents' embrace.

Helgoron, Thaddeus, and Rahk feel nothing of the sort, no connection of familial bond to these carvings. They are, like any other ancient ruin, merely a fascinating piece of ancient history. But like Mors, Helgoron finds no intelligible meaning in the reliefs, just vague shapes and unfamiliar script.

Rahk is the first member of the team to make the connection to the twelve figures, and his breath hitches in the back of his throat on realization of what and who he is looking at. These are not twelve different figures at all, they all represent twelve aspects of the same person...

Aroden, the God of Humanity.

Only the first relief is clear to Rahk, however, the identiy of the others is lost on him. Though it becomes abundantly clear that Thaddeus has come to the same realization and is rapidly decoding the meaning behind the other reliefs as well, moving from one to another with one hand scrawling notes in his journal. The fourth relief is a mystery to him, however, but he has deciphered three of them. Most notably, these inscriptions appear to be a variation of parables from one of Aroden's holy texts, the History and Future of Humanity, suggesting that these might represent an earlier version of the work.

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GAMEPLAY