(PFS) GM Alice's First Steps Part I: In Service To Lore [Group 2] (Inactive)

Game Master Alice Margatroid

"None of your business imp,"

Bluff: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (17) - 1 = 16

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

The imp glares at Clacent, clutching the box close. "That sounds like you don't know! Stupid human! Stupid stupid! Bleeeeh!" The imp pokes his tongue out at Clacent before immediately disappearing into thin air. A few moments later it reappears on top of the large 'X', repeatedly smashing it upon the top. It looks like it's doing more damage to the crucifix than to the chest, really.

Balak rolls his eyes. "That's enough of that." he says. "Someone shoot him down from there." he grumbles, moving forward into the room, staying ten feet away from the Imp.

Garret looks at the imp and gauges up the distance. He then lets go a sling bullet.

Assuming no cover and no melee, adjust if neccesary

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9
Never mind

Chasik pulls out a javelin, takes aim, and hopes to shoot the annoyance out of the sky.

javelin: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

or not lol

Since it seems that diplomacy has dried up, I'm going to move this to formal(ish) combat rounds.

Initiative: Imp | Pathfinders

Map

Note that the imp is invisible. The location you last saw it is marked on the map. Pinpointing it is so difficult that I don't think any of you could do so - maybe with a natural 20 on your Perception roll and a very low result on its Stealth check.

Everyone can act in any order.

Garret and Chasik hurl a couple of weapons the way of the tiefling, but even in its clearly distracted state it manages to duck out of the way of both; the stone crashes into the wall behind it while the javelin penetrates the crucifix rather than devil-flesh.

In response, the imp turns around, sneers, and disappears into thin air, the sound of its high-pitched cackle echoing about the chamber.

"Be smart and wait for the beast to reveal itself." Balak says, holding himself in a ready stance.

Ready action to grapple the Imp if it shows itself. 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Well this is really odd...He seemed nice enough?

Grymlind scratches his beard and then waves his hands in the air.

Cast Detect Magic.

Grymlind, as detect magic is a cone it is actually relevant to know which direction you are pointing it. Towards where you last saw the imp? Also be aware that it will take you 3 rounds of concentration to pinpoint the imp using detect magic (assuming it does not leave the AoE)

Yarg casts Divine Favour

Sure, that general direction. I'll keep it up for awhile, at least until we make some progress.

"We already got what we wanted, you sure we have to do this? It could be their pet."

Anyone got any dust or anything?

Round 1 down, 9 to go

My understanding is that the imp still has the box. Correct or not?

Correct.

Grymlind does not detect magic from the direction he last saw the imp in. However, Yarg suddenly feels a sharp pain in his back as the imp jabs its spiked tail into an unamoured section, reappearing in a flash. With a nasty giggle, the imp deftly tumbles mid-air around his immediate retaliation and zooms back upwards towards the roof. (Acrobatics check successful, so no AoO)

"Stupid humans! Stupid demon! Stupid stupid! Go away, Kreuvus too smart for you! Ha ha ha!!!"

Yarg, you take 3 damage and must make a DC 13 Fort save or be poisoned.

Map

Yarg Save 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

He's out of reach?

Yup. +10 = he's two "cubes" (ten feet) above you.

You take 1d2 ⇒ 2 Dex damage. Make a new save with your turn to save time.

If the Imp is visible Garret will attack it using his sling, otherwise he will ready an attack, to use when it becomes visible.

How little does he know about fast healing...

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 1

It's visible - but I don't know if anyone made Kn. Planes checks RE: Fast Healing...

Balak sighs and offers the dagger to Clacent. "You're probably a better shot than I am." he says to the Ranger. He then goes to grab a solid piece of furniture to pull into the middle of the room so he can stand on it to reach the Imp.

I don't know what the fuss is all about. The little guy was just wants his box opened. I really don't understand, but you guys seem to know what your doing.

Grymlind mumbles and shrugs, as he pulls his crossbow off his back and speaks a quick incantation.

Cast Mage Armor.

"I don't get it too. We just need the box, we don't have any business with you." says Clacent to the imp.

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0

LOL

Chasik will try to intimidate the imp to giving him the box.

I suggest you give us the box, else you want to get splattered into tiny pieces

1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10

Clacent I blame you lol

Chasik will than draw his warhammer and wait for the little bastard to come back down.

Garret's bullet zooms past the imp, nowhere near landing a solid hit, while Clacent and Chasik's bluster just causes it to laugh at them. Balak, meanwhile, moves a chair over underneath the imp.

I'll move for Yarg.

Fort Save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 1d2 ⇒ 2 Yarg at 8 Dex.

Despite feeling a numbness spreading through his limbs from the poison, Yarg attempts to lob a javelin up at the imp.

Javelin: 1d20 - 1 + 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 + 1 = 18 Damage: 1d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 4 + 1 = 7

The throwing spear hits, but it seems to only penetrate a tiny distance into the tiny little devil's skin. It cackles, its eyes shining bright red as it roughly pulls the javelin out of its body and tosses it back down at the ground, its wound sealing almost instantly.

It then, of course, turns invisible.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Human flesh so weak! Not like devil flesh!"

"Oh well, I guess there's no convincing that imp now." Clacent will use the silver dagger the paracountess gave them.

Ready action as soon as the imp shows itself or if someone will be able to pinpoint it down.

Power Attack Dagger: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 5 - 1 = 19
Damage: 1d4 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 2 = 10

Balak, perched on the chair, readies to grab the Imp if it appears.

Ready to Grapple 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Guess nobody else is doing anything...

Disarm: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 Well, well...

Balak stands up on the chair and gets ready to grab the imp, and Clacent waits with the knife ready to strike. Suddenly, he feels a strange sensation around his hands, like someone was trying to tug the knife out of it - and then the imp reappears, looking just as shocked as you are that it had done so. Looks like whatever it was trying to do had failed... and miserably so.

"Eep."

Clacent thrusts the knife into the imp's belly, and it howls in pain, its flesh bubbling and burning around the silver dagger.

"Ow! Ow! It burns us! It burns us!!"

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

It attempts to dive away again, but it's clumsier this time, struggling to hold the weight of the box with one hand while it tried to knock the letter opener from Clacent's hands.

Clacent and Garret can take an AoO as it tries to fly away.

Map

Garret drops his sling as the imp suddenly appears right in front of him. He then throws a punch at the little bugger.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 3

The punch appears to do nothing at all to the imp, although Garret is sure that it made contact.

"Hmm that worked,"

Clacent will try to stab the again with the dagger.

Power Attack Dagger: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (6) + 5 - 1 = 10
Damage: 1d4 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 4 + 2 = 8

Yarg uses a move action to draw his bastard sword, take a 5ft step as needed, and attacks using his destruction ability.

1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 1 = 9 Dmg 1d10 + 4 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 1 + 1 = 14

That is a tough creature! It did not seem affected at all by that punch! Although the dagger seemed to hurt it...

Yarg Fort Save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18 The poison stops affecting you. You remain at 8 Dex.

A lot of wild swipes are taken at the imp, but in the end it gets out scott-free. In the air, you notice its horrible stomach wound is slowly healing itself, dark energy coalescing around the edges of the gash. It still looks like it's in a lot of pain nevertheless.

I'm going to just skip a round to speed this up a bit - you guys can take a readied action in your next turn.

Trip: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

The imp turns invisible, and the Pathfinders ready their weapons to strike. Garret feels a force ram into his legs, but the halfling is used to people trying to knock him off balance, so he remains standing - much to the displeasure of the freshly reappeared imp.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

It attempts to dive back out of the way, but not before some of you can get a prepared strike in!

Grymlind scratches his beard in thought and then, with an enlightened look , raises a finger in the air.

I've got an idea!

He walks over to the bed and pulls off the heavy blanket. Turning to face the group and as casually as possible, he waits for the imp to reappear.

Grymlind will ready an action to throw the blanket as a net, when the imp reappears.

Roll that attack roll now. Treat it as an improvised net.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

"Where could that imp go," says Clacent as he concentrates to pinpoint the location of the imp.

In case Clacent managed to do just that he will attack with the dagger again, hoping to end this mess.

Power Attack Dagger: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 5 - 1 = 20
Damage: 1d4 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 2 = 10

Hooray, a hit with good damage!

Clacent finally manages to land another good strike upon the imp, piercing through its skin and wounding it deep in its heart... or whatever passed for vital organs in a devil at least. The imp wails and screeches loudly before exploding in a burst of ash that covers you all and everything else in the room. The box falls to the ground with a thud, rolling at the feet of Chasik.

Daaaamn - lil' bastard, Yarg groans as the combat ends.

"That should do it, the paracountess didn't specify to handle the situation with care did she?"

Well that sure was a pain in the ass if you ask me. Is everybody okay, how are you feeling Yarg?

Balak hops down from his perch and picks up the box. "Good work." he says. He looks expectantly to Yarg to see how he is doing before he returns to speak to the Paracountess.

It seems that the normally easy-going Garret is frustrated "Good work? I know I hit that creature hard on its nose and it did not flinch! And then it had the audicity to try to trip me. Glad it is gone now! Good riddance to it I say!"

Yarg holds up a shaking hand, at least signifying he is fine for the moment.

Zarta Dralneen seems to be rather apathetic on the killing of the imp. "He would have been punished quite severely for his misdeeds anyway," she comments dryly, inspecting her fingernails for scant traces of dirt. "And there are always plenty of imps to call into service when I need one."

If asked about the contents of the box, she quite sincerely says she never managed to get into it and so has no idea what was inside. Looks like Kreuvus is the only one to know. Was the only one to know.

She says to Clacent with a devious smile, "You can keep that dagger on one condition... come back and visit me sometime, hmm?"

------

You head on south to the Docks for the last mission on your list. The Docks is the gateway into Absalom, and it is a combination of constantly shifting ships and cargo, and cheap places for sailors to get drunk, fulfill their carnal desires, and sleep off the effects of both. It's loud and rowdy as a result, with the smell of fish, sweat, and seawater choking the air.

The Pickled Imp is located down a nondescript alleyway, identified only by a sign swinging in the air above the doorway featuring--you guessed it--an imp suspended upside-down in a bottle of greenish brine. The windows' glass is clouded over, making it difficult to see inside from out. With some trepidation, you enter, a bell jingling to announce your arrival.

This creepy shop contains myriad odds and ends, most bereft of any discernible use. A number of malformed creatures and creature parts bob in jars on a long, prominent shelf, a tiny foetal devil centred in this macabre lineup. The shopkeeper, a greasy-haired Varisian with a thin moustache, shouts from behind the cluttered counter:

"Ah, yes, I see the Pathfinders have arrived," he says with a smile--or perhaps a sneer, you're not quite sure. "I am so glad Ambrus was able to lend a few of his new recruits to help me. Please, come in and let me tell you what I need."

Looking around as if to be absolutely certain no customers are browsing the aisles of knock-off Thuvian burial urns or supposed Azlanti porcelain, he begins again. "But firstly, well met! I am Guaril Karela." His voice is noticeably lilted with a strong Varisian accent, and he often tilts his moustache like the animated hands of a clock as he speaks.

"Here's the story, lads. A friend of mine has a warehouse near here and he received a parcel on behalf of me and some of my associates. Buuuut... there's just one little problem." Guaril scratches at his stubbly cheek as he continues. "See, Master Gelbane had to leave town in a hurry, and our shipment is still waiting at his warehouse. Rumour is he ended up in trouble with the law and the place was seized. A real pain in the arse, really."

"I heard tell from someone down at the docks that some creep was snooping around his warehouse just the other night, so I want to make sure nothing of mine was taken. He keeps all kinds of things in that old pelican--from beers to nails and god knows what else--but every now and then he stores something real special. This is one of those cases."

"There's a big crate marked with three crows arranged in a triangle. Inside that crate is a smaller container with a few books and papers in it. That's the only parcel I'm interested in, and as far as I'm concerned, you can help yourself to the rest of the crate." He winks. "Honestly, anything else you want in the place too. I'm sure the once things get sorted out, the city will seize most everything else anyway."

"By the by, while I've got your ear. My... associates and I often work with the Pathfinders when it comes to special relics and documents, getting them in and out of ports and across borders where the authorities ask too many questions. Most people don't realize what they have and, frankly, many don't deserve to have it, so sometimes we help take the goods off their hands. If things work out well and you get this done, I'd be glad to talk with you more and help you out with any future endeavors, so long as you help me out too. I'm good at returning favors... trust me." His sneering grin is anything but trustworthy, but you also get the impression he damn well knows what he's talking about.

"As long as its for a nice drink, instead of killing more imps, sure." replies Clacent to Zarta.

-------------------------

"Favor for a favor sounds good, wait does this involve imps or the likes?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

+2 if Zarta is a human.

Zarta mutters something about drinking many delicious things, but you decide it's best not to dwell on it.

------

"I certainly hope there are no imps there! I don't expect you to have any trouble, mm?"

Clacent, you actually find Guaril incredibly trustworthy. Like, everything he says seems so obvious and reasonable. He even smiles so much! How could a guy like that ever lie?

He also may have a bridge to sell you...

A natural 1 can pull off a stunt like that huh lol!

"What are these documents that you are willing to give up the rest?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

"Why don't you just explain everything to the officials? I am sure they are willing to help you out if you can show proof that this parcel belongs to you."

Yarg stays silent in this - the God of Vengence isn't concerned about disputed goods in the big picture and he understands that his role of Pathfinder will occasionally lead him into 'grey' area's.

He seems content to listen to the exchange.

"Oh, you know, it's just some trade logs and documents," Guaril says vaguely with a wave of his hands. "No use for any of you, I'm sure."

He stares at Garret for a few moments, one brow arched. He seems to be both incredulous and on the borderline of laughter. "Yeahhh... sure thing, lad. Sure thing. Keep that innocence; it'll serve you well. Or someone else well, at least." The greasy Varisian man otherwise doesn't answer Garret's line of questioning.