PFS: Crypt of the Everflame (Inactive)

Game Master R D

"Oh, my," says Berosius. "Fame, fortune and complimentary pies! This is ever so much more jolly than my last adventure! It was cold and there were yetis. Shall we stop and eat our pies properly? No? I, uh, have table napkins."

Seeing with some surprise that the group doesn't intend to stop, Berosius considers ways to store his pie until he has time to address it fittingly, with utensils and tablecloths. Coming up with nothing suitable, he begins to munch on the pie as he walks, soon acquiring a strawberry smear across his chin and sleeves.

"You know what goes well with rhubarb, Harrow? Strawberries. Here, have some of mine. In fact, we should all share a bite. Want some?" he asks the others, nodding approvingly at Lumnessa's halfling-like appetite.

Harrow, his horse clopping alongside the group and occasionally trying to nip at others, takes any pie he is offered.

Oh, sorry I didn't know we were sharing. she replies embarrassedly. The party is shocked to see that not only have the tiny gnome eaten her entire pie but that the pan is perfectly clean and there is not single smudge or crumb anywhere on her. With the eyes of the party on here she blushes slightly and, for lack of anything better to do, puts his pie tin her head, Look, I have a helmet now.

Sharing is a great plan!

I was meaning that I wanted to see the eligible young man that brought me the pie again when I get back.

1d20 ⇒ 18

Woohoo! I might have to move out of Absalom!

Arak is busy adjusting gear and mixing and matching with gear he already carried. Arak packs a backpack with two tents and all the rations (30) and blankets (6).

Adjusting the gear and weight of everything, he suggests that Harrow or Girion carry the potion of cure light wounds. "Brother Harrow, how do you feel about having horse carry some of this extra gear?"

I've got a second backpack that weighs 88 lbs with all that gear in it.

After the work is complete, he turns his attention to the cherry pie making sure to thank the person who gave it to him. "Very delicious, my thanks."

Girion shares his pie with whomever wants some, giving it all away if there are those hungrier than himself. (Although he waits until out of town, so as to not offend the one who gave it to him.) He rides along quietly, munching some trail rations and examining the trail map.

Broken Glade... Serpent Gorge... fanciful names, surely. I wonder what we can actually expect? This "quest" seems so ritualistic, each of these locations must have some part to play. The question is, do they play any part in the story we are here to uncover, that of the town's founder?

"Yes, pile all extra gear on Cryp. Heavier the better. Cryp big, strong lazy horse that try to get out of work," he says.

perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Just 2 hours outside of Kassen the narrow path that you've been following winds through the raking claws of the trees, now bereft of their leaves, which crunch loudly underfoot. Up ahead, a fallen tree trunk blocks the path. Suddenly a trio of snarling Orcs leaps up from behind the log, all greenish skin and fearsome tusks, bellowing vulgar challenges.

Arak: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9, Berosius: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9, Girion: 1d20 ⇒ 2, Harrow: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6, Lumnessa: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20, Tan'ia: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14, Orcs: 1d20 ⇒ 1

Well, that was easy! The party is up first. Then the orcs. Since you're ALL first, I don't care about initiative order. We can say that player X held an action for player Y (or whatever) to accommodate any out-of-initiative-order posting.

This is round 1.

Battle Map

Was there a map? If no, I'll just go.

"You think better than Harrow?!! You never understand half-lings!" he says as he spurs his heavy warhorse into a gallop and swings at the first orc.

MW nodachi power attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19 for damage: 1d10 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

crit?: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7 ooops, wasn't a crit threat...was looking at the modified total.

handle animal: 1d20 - 2 + 4 ⇒ (8) - 2 + 4 = 10

Cryp also tries to take a bite out of a nearby orc.

bite: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17 against a second orc if first dead...
dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

EDIT: Nevermind, I see the map. Harrow attacks #1, Cryp #2.

Arak moves forward to one of the bandits saying, "I would run into the forest if I were you."

He punches that guy in the face!

Unarmed strike: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 6

Move NE and N

Lumnessa, pie plate still on her head, casually walks forward and extends both hands at the attackers. A sorrowful look on her face she mouths the word 'sorry' to the Orcs as a sheet of flame erupts forward.

Burning hands w/ Pyro +1 CL, Spell Focus +1 DC
damage: 2d4 ⇒ (2, 1) = 3 DC 17 for half

Yep. There's a map! :-)

Harrow Will Save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5, Arak Will Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Bummer.

Harrow's nodachi cleaves the first orc's head in two. "Oh, bother. Mother said there'd be days like this," he says as he crumples to the ground.

Cryp literally bites the head off of Orc number 2. His new name should be Ozzie! ;-P

Arak's fist finds a satisfying thud and slight crack of bone as the second orc's nose breaks and tweety birds start flying around his head. "I coulda been a contenda..." But he remains standing!

Orc 3 Reflex Save: 1d20 ⇒ 15

Lumnessa burns the tweety birds away as orc number 3 crumples to the ground.

Combat over!

That was round 1.

Don't forget Cryp's bite attack. :)

Arak looks around quickly for signs of others!

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Arak finds no other orcs.

1d20 ⇒ 9

Berosius barely has time to realize that the orcs are on them before there are no more orcs. The prospect of death displeases him and as winds unfelt by anyone else pluck at his cloak, he prays that Pharasma be merciful in her judgments.

Still, it cheers the diminutive oracle to know that he is so well protected.

Tan'ia was busy trying to figure out what items she'd have to move to Kassen when they return versus what she could get new, and didn't notice there was even a fight.

After dealing with the orcs, some party members rifle through their pockets. (Hey, you're pathfinders!) At this point, several party members realize that the orcs are/were illusory! (*Gasp!*)

You are able to travel for most of the day in peace. Following the map is relatively easy. After you have followed the map for most of the day, the sunlight begins to fade and a cold wind begins to rattle through the leafless forest. There is no sign of civilization in sight.

Some of the previously invisible effects around Berosius (haunted) are now clearly visible. For that matter, similar random effects are visible around all of you! You all have the sudden realization that you are far from home and no one is going to come to your aid if you get in trouble.

Perhaps establishing a safe camp is the first order of business. You're a little more than halfway to the Crypt of the Everflame.

With slightly chattering teeth, Does anyone else find it odd that we were supposed to come and accompany a couple of the townsfolk that were doing this quest, but then none of the townsfolk actually came with us?

A few shivers later, Can we stop soon and light a fire?

With slightly chattering teeth, Does anyone else find it odd that we were supposed to come and accompany a couple of the townsfolk that were doing this quest, but then none of the townsfolk actually came with us?

A few shivers later, Can we stop soon and light a fire?

Did I post somewhere that you would accompany townsfolk??? If so, that was a typo, and I apologize for misleading you.

There is plenty of dry wood around to start a fire. Multiple party members realize that the rations that Mayor Uptal gave you can be cooked into a fine stew if everyone contributes.

As you stoke the fire, you hear howling off in the distance. Over the next hour, the howling seems to grow closer. Suddenly, the forest becomes very still and very quiet. Even the haunting effects that had been plaguing you stop completely. (Even for Berosius.)

After setting up the tents, Arak sets the lantern given to him by Mayor Uptal down on the ground near the camp fire. "Those of you with the gift of magic, are you able to discern anything about this. If it is to transport magical flame, perhaps it is itself magical? I suspect it may be the source of our strange happenings since leaving town."

Sitting down next to the tent, fire, and Arak, Let me look at that.
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Did it suddenly just get very quiet?
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

As the group prepares to settle down and camp, Harrow has been extremely angry, cursing, punching the air, and kicking stones into the leaves as he gathers firewood.

"Orcs illusions! Pies illusions! I been eating pie whole time that NOT REAL!!! Make me so mad! All the tasty amazing pies not really tasty!!! URRRGGGGGHHH!!!"

perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Am assuming that Tan'ia casts Detect Magic, first. The cleric detects magic on the lantern. After concentrating on it for a few moments, she discerns the faint aura of a very, very ancient school of magic. It's the almost-forgotten MacGuffin school of magic--so much more powerful than the other types that spellcasters usually employ. It's more explosive than evocation, more insidious than necromancy, more clever than illusion, more beguiling than enchantment, more all-seeing than divination, more powerful than abjuration, more far-reaching than conjuration, and more transformative than transmutation. Infused in the lantern is the ultimate power of a plot device! LOL! ;-P

Just a half-hour later, the party spots a lone wolf at the edge of their camp's firelight. It notices you all noticing it. It pauses for a moment to growl at you, then it turns and lopes off into the thick, silent woods.

Ooooooh! Big doggy! Squeals Lumnessa as she moves over towards where the wolf was and starts calling to it, Here Doggy! Come on Boy! holding out some dried meat from one of the rations.

Once Harrow calms down about having eating illusory pies, he watches the lone wolf.

"We best careful tonight. Where one wolf, pack of wolfs," he says with rare insight but typical grammar.

Lumnessa: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Ha! :-) I did not see that coming!

The wolf skids to a stop, turns around, and eats the meat from Lumnessa's hand. It then looks at her expectantly.

Good doggy! Lumnessa continues to feed the wolf the meat from her two trail rations. As she feed it she tries to pet the 'big doggy'.

Lumnessa: 1d20 ⇒ 9 (D'oh!)

When the gnome tries to pet the wolf, it snaps at her (for no damage), and runs away. (Though you've successfully obviated the wolf combat encounter! :-) LOL!)
____________________________________________________________

The rest of the night passes uneventfully. The next day, you all can continue your journey through the Fangwood. Early in the day, your trail leads you to the shores of the Gray Lake, where you can refill your waterskins and stop for a quick rest.

Here, the trees begin to thin, revealing a field of short, green grass that leads to the shores of a wide, calm lake reflecting the overcast sky above. A dense fog hangs over the center of the lake, obscuring the far side. Near the shore of the lake, a dark form lies next to the water.

Harrow ponders Lumnessa's confrontation with the wolf as they continue travel the next day.

"I has friend named One-hand Luke try same thing," the half-orc observes to the gnome. "It not turn out same way, tho," he adds.

Sensing this may be a ruse, Arak says "Be ready to act Harrow."

Arak rushes forward to investigate the dark form laying on the bank.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Concerned about the wolves, Berosius remains cautious, allowing the big folk to do the investigating.

Arak says "Be ready to act Harrow."

"Act like what?" Harrow calls after Arak.

He spurs his horse forward.

perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

He meant get ready to hit things, if necessary.

"Act like Harrow...got it!" the half-orc says.

Harrow is adorable.

Thanks! I'm having a good time playing him! It's funny how characters start to take on a life of their own, and not necessarily how you pictured them!

This may be the first adventure where Cryp actually got to do something! :-)

Arak rushes forward to investigate the dark form laying on the bank.

The form is the decayed body of a humanoid.

Calling back to the others, "Whatever it was, it's dead now."

Arak tries to make sense of what he's seeing.

Heal (untrained): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

It is clear that the body has been dead for a few months.

Anything identifying on it? Clothing? Personal effects?

Girion also rides forward and dismounts to examine the corpse. "Poor soul... he mutters to himself. He looks around for any signs of what may have killed it, and whether it was killed here or was dragged here.

Survival: 1d20 ⇒ 1
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 9

Girion murmurs a prayer to Iomedae and provides an abbreviated blessing on the body. "Does anyone have a shovel? We can't just leave this person laying here," Girion asks the others. If no one does, Girion will at least move it off the path and try to cover it with fieldstones or the like. We will bring the body back to town on our return for proper burial.

I'll go pick flowers. calls Lumnessa as she scurries off into the field.

"Maybe he not want to be buried in town." Harrow muses. "What if he a druid or something, and he haunt us because he buried in a town?"

An epiphany strikes Harrow, and he exclaims "Hey Berosigus, maybe that what happen to you! You bury a druid in a town and get haunted?!"

"I have no shovel, but we do have some extra blankets from the Mayor." Arak says solemnly.

Arak also looks for signs of struggle/dragging or animals eating the corpse etc...

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

"Oh no," replies the halfling. "These are the restless spirits of the world. They have nothing to do with mortals, living or dead. They are all around, but few can hear or feel them. I can, so they clamor for my attention day and night. They whisper secrets to me and sometimes foretell the future."

"It is because elf them that some call me an oracle, though I'm really more like a speaker for the spirits whether I like it or not."

Harrow shivers involuntarily.

Better to bury druid in town...