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With the dwarf out of harm's way, and the goblins left behind by Enric's 5' step, Yanda picks up the wand of magic missile, (pretty much looting Baldren's unconscious form of anything useful) and tosses her final splash weapon, an acid flask.
"I'm very sorry to have to do this Enric. Please accept my apologies in advance."
Yanda foregoes the grabbing of the wand, , and throws a flask with an emblem of a corrosive droplet at Enric.
(Slow motion throw, followed by slow moving projectile)
<Splash!>, the flask shatters upon contact with Enric, who's too hurt to stay standing after the hit.
He sinks to his knees, leaning heavily on his axe.
"My family....i can't avenge you..curse it.."
He falls onto the floor after that.
COMBAT OVER, YOU WON!!!!!! :D
Current round (17)
Galtorr bleeds to -13.
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Round 18
Yanda 2x moves.
Galtorr bleeds to -14.
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Round 19
Yanda 2x moves.
Galtorr bleeds to -15
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Round 20
Yanda can 5ft step to next to Galtorr, and can use UMD to activate.
Galtorr bleeds to -16.
If Yanda manages to activate it, she can save Galtorr. If not...dead ulfen.
To exit that door requires 20ft of movement.
How i moved you, you got there in time for a do or die.
If we go by your movement, he'd die, as wands will use the same casting time as the spell stored within.
Then he died fighting.
The warrior asks Braxen if he can stabilize the chaplain, after he quickly explains the following.
The family of Enric was killed in a winter wolf raid. Freyr Darkwine, who is both the Blackravens’ commander and Trollheim’s castellan, passed word to Ironjaw to expect you to pass through the area with your captives and to let you through with the goblins in tow.
It seems, unfortunately, that the castellan underestimated Enrik’s desire for revenge against Irrisen and overestimated his willingness to follow any order given.
Enrik’s small detachment of Blackravens, the two warriors and the chaplain, are all relatively green and inexperienced. As such, he gave orders, even those he makes himself.
On Enrik’s orders, they had planned to lure the goblins into a trap.
He feels, in hindsight, that despite having attacked you, they attacked based on illegal orders, and it backfired. He asks for a 2nd chance.
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Yanda is indifferent as to whether Enric be allowed to live. Once his treachery is known, she figures he will probably be executed anyway, particularly since it resulted in the death of one of her own.
"I see little difference between these goblins and Enric. Both were willing to kill innocents to get what they wanted. Ironic, isn't it? I'm not a particularly moral woman, but I figure if we could protect goblins that would probably murder us for our jerky if opportune, we can allow Enric to live - and face trial. Go ahead."
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""I see little difference between these goblins and Enric. Both were willing to kill innocents to get what they wanted. Ironic, isn't it? I'm not a particularly moral woman, but I figure if we could protect goblins that would probably murder us for our jerky if opportune, we can allow Enric to live - and face trial. Go ahead."
"Agreed. You may stabilize your comrades, though I doubt you would have willingly given us tha' same courtesy. An', we'll be takin' your stuff, be sure o' that." Brax smiles slyly.
Brax throws in a HUGE wad of tobacco and looks at Yanda. "Now that was some scrap, we had, eh?" He looks on fondly as the goblins ravish the food.
You notice the warrior isn't particularly showing care for Enric, right now. At the mention of him facing trial, though, he nods and tries.
After you had confiscated the equipment, and slept, as it is getting dark by now, you wake up rested.
The goblins are still locked up where they should be, as metal bonds can't be easily chewed through, nor can proper wooden walls and doors.
The chaplain requests everyone come around the table, including a bound Enric, and spends 2 charges of channel, to get everyone not above 0 hp on their feet again. They do still have duty to guard this region against Irissen troops, and will remain unless forced, which they will object to.
The trek is still slowed down by the goblins' slower movement, but you find your way to the drop point, outside the heavily walled and densely populated city of Trollheim, where you find a slightly impatient agent by now.
"What took you so long? You're quite late.
Anyway, we'll get an aeral message to your VC that you're returning."
The remaining goblins are escorted off.
Lurker turns to Yanda for a moment.
"Boom-ball lady not too bad, you make good warchief.
Dwarf not too bad either, give us lots of food yesterday."
He's given a shove in the back, and the goblins are off.
Back at the VC he hears your story. He mentions he's heard of Ulfen crime punishment a few times, and mentions Enric's in for it, now that he has been put on trial for defying orders.
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The Blakros Museum rises into the night sky, its single black spire severing the full moon in twain. The black iron gates surrounding the exhibition hall grind in protest against the wind.
Beyond, the museum’s large oaken doors stand wide open, a silver-gray mist belching forth from the cavernous darkness within. You wonder how you ended up here, standing at the precipice of unknown terrors, and instantly VentureCaptain Adril Hestram’s wide looming face is conjured into your minds’ eye.
His booming words ring out from memory as clearly as he spoke them only one hour ago:
"The Blakros Museum is cursed. Some darkness has descended upon the place and those who enter are blasted with evil and left raving through its halls, more beast than men.
The curator, Nigel Aldain, is an old associate of the Society, though he chose to leave our organization some years back after a disagreement."
Adril looked sheepish then, as if remembering some distasteful incident from his youth.
"Nigel has long denied the Society access to the Blakros Museum’s considerable collection of relics and scrolls, using his extensive contacts to nab several excellent finds right out from under us... he always had a nose for the hunt.
Whatever is past between Nigel and the Society, he needs our help now. Perhaps if we can come to his aid, he may think on rejoining the Pathfinder Society, or at least offering to share his discoveries with us."
"Apparently the trouble at Blakros Museum began this morning, shortly after a wayward Pathfinder named Lugizar Trantos returned to Absalom after months spent in the Mwangi Expanse.
Supposedly, instead of coming straight to the Lodge to report in, he went to Blakros, sold his finds to Nigel, and then disappeared with a hefty sum of gold.
The few who glimpsed Lugizar claimed he was much changed by his time in the Mwangi... gaunt, his eyes yellowed and unfocused, a strange rasping cough that seemed to wrack his now wasted frame.
Whatever he brought back with him, we believe it is the cause of the Blakros Museum’s ills. Root it out."
=============Currently, as you've arrived==========
Much of the Mwangi’s darkest interior is ruled by a demon lord named Angazhan, who is described in an ancient text as a thing of primordial darkness, a foulbreathed demon who grunts prophecies of blood to apes and madmen. The jungle is his beating heart.
The Gorilla King’s dread city was founded hundreds of years past by cultists who bowed to Angazhan. It is said they captured the souls of monkeys in the wood-grains of strange idols called Tik Taan. The monkeys’ tormented spirits became the slaves and playthings of Angazhan, who murdered their playful whims and replaced them with a deep-seated hate and wild madness. These Tik Taan are rumored to shred the sanity of anyone who spends too long in their presence.
The cultists who created the Tik Taan were hunted by a brave tribe of the Mwangi called the Jambala Jaeg. The Jambala Jaeg created ritual knives, crafted out of bone handles and obsidian blades, to slay the demons inside the Tik Taan. Legends speak of the deadly mists of the Tik Taan, ill humors that invade men’s hearts by seeping into their mouths. Anyone wearing a scarf or other protection against the airborne menace is immune to its effects.
Lugizar Trantos spent the better part of a year in the Mwangi. At first he wrote letters to his brother and wife, but after a few months these stopped coming and most gave him up for dead.
His letters spoke of a lucrative find at one point, three idols of dark wood carved in the shape of bearded monkeys.
The last of his letters evidenced an unhinged mind, and was covered in strange sketches of monkey paws. He described dark eyes glaring out from the mists. Shortly after his return to Absalom, the monkeys and apes in the Absalom Menagerie attacked their keepers during a feeding and fled the grounds into greater Absalom.
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Brax stands with his arms crossed in the moonlight, pondering what the Venture Captain said. He's happy to be back on another outing and hoping to share more kinship and adventure with his companions. He checks and rechecks all his gear thoroughly, ensuring he's ready as he can be for what lies inside. He then looks to the others and says: "So, are ye ready?"
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Erlathan pulls his cloak tight as the warm wind blows over his face. "From the cold of Irrisen to a museum in the heart of the Mwangi." He surveys the gates and darkness ahead, hoping to see what might lie ahead. "Well, at least there won't be any goblins this time! I hope. And if there are, at least I can roast them this time around, oh yes!"
"And it seems we have a few new faces joining us! Well met, earth lady!" He stares Selethe up and down.
"I recall quite a bit about the Mwangi... Fascinating stuff involving apes and demon lords and cultists. Do be on the look out for three bearded monkey idols, but let's be careful around them. They're likely to contain tormented monkey souls. Oh dear."
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As the group nears the Blakros Museum, a tall, well-kept man emerges from the neighboring mist. The sound of his heavy armored footsteps rings as he closes the gap between himself and the group. Eventually the mist parts, revealing a heavy steal shield with a large golden key emblazed upon it.
“Well met.” The man says as he lowers his barricade to the ground and rests it up against his leg. After taking a moment to situate himself, the man removes a heavy looking helmet and places it under his arm. “I am Marock Darkwood. I was instructed to meet you here and offer my aid in this upcoming mission. Venture Captain Hestram felt my skills as a priest might be of use to you. I understand that you have recently lost a companion during a previous mission. For that You have my deepest condolences. I hope that my presence will help to prevent any future losses.”
Although the man’s posture seems relaxed, his expressionless face seems a little unsettling. Based on his attitude and tone, it is apparent that the he is all business with little to offer in the form of humor.
While glancing over his shoulder at the museum, Marock takes a deep breath. “Tormented monkey souls…… Interesting.”
After considering the elf's comment, Marock glances over at Braxen and nods. “I'm ready.”
Without hesitation, the priest slides his helmet over his head and then secures his shield onto his left arm. Once fortified, he then reaches down and retrieves a War-Hammer from his right hip. While moving towards the museum he slowly slides the War-Hammer's weapon cord over his right hand.
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The oread woman listens intently. For her first assignment, she was expecting something a little more- introductory? She had no experience fighting evil monkey souls or anything of the sort.
"Hello Marock, priest of Abadar I presume? As you can see I am a follower of Nethys. It might be pleasant to have another religious sort to discuss these events with."
"I too am ready to proceed."
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Yanda is a tall thin woman with the colorations of a Sylph. She has simple leather armor on a notable abundance of flasks about her body. Either she is a a serious drinker, or she's an alchemist. Your betting the latter. She's all business as she says,
"Not much for religion myself but won't turn my nose up at any help you can throw my way from one of them gods. Well, best to be on with it, monkeys or no monkeys, goblins or no goblins. Who wants to take point? I am a barely passing hand at disarming a trap and not too good at spotting them so I recommend it not be me."
Braxen is being thorough at sneaking around the perimiter. Carefully checking every side of the museum takes a little while, but he can ascertain himself that nobody, aside from themselves, is out here.
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Erlathan laughs at Marock's seriousness, then mutters to himself. "And from where did the society dig this one up? Geez. Talk about having a personality of cardboard." He notices Braxen has gone to scout, and tries to stop him, "Ahem, Brax, where are you off to! This places gives me the creeps. Let's stick together, yes?"
With the perimiter explored, and Erlathan suggesting not splitting up...the #1 sin in horror flicks....the doors to the museum await you.
An unnatural cold permeates this chamber and the tendrils of silver-gray mist flowing out the front archway into the courtyard beyond seem to effortlessly pierce the flesh and gently caress the bone in a cold embrace.
The grand entranceway’s vaulted ceiling is supported by six great pillars of hewn black stone. Braziers mounted on the pillars cast white radiance from balls of continual light.
The light glimmers eerily in the silvery haze that fills the atrium, giving the impression of something alien watching from the glowing fog.
There are two direct ways to choose from.
West Exhibit Hall: A placard above this hall reads "The Honored Dead" in bloodred calligraphy.
East Exhibit Hall: A large placard above the entryway to this hall reads "Hunting the Beasts of Legend" in great block letters.
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Marock moves into the room and brings his heavy shield to bear.After moving deeper into the room, the Priest slowly moves up to the hall with the two doors.
Not wanting to be rude, Marock gives Selethe enough room to work, then moves in to back her up as she begins to examine the room. "I am here lady Selethe, if you find yourself in need of aid." The priest's somber tone betrays a hollow utterance of literal intent.
This gigantic chamber is relatively free of mist, and darkness is held at bay by braziers of radiant light.
Behemoths occupy these halls, great taxidermy nightmares such as a two-headed bear easily taller than an ogre; a great desiccated beetle, its carapace larger than the face of the grand clocktower of Absalom; a massive specimen of chimera, its jaws open in a mock roar; and an assembled skeleton of a tyrant lizard.
The walls here are studded with strange masks, staves, spears, and other implements of long forgotten cultures, most likely used in ritual hunts of the beasts preserved here.
The specimens look very well preserved..as though they could jump at you at a moment's notice. Those teeth look awfully sharp...
While the various artifacts are remarkable, you suddenly are caught unaware, by shards of clay scattering towards you from the walls.
From a wall higher up, you now see two ugly flying things.
This is a vargouille, evil outsiders that can cripple enemies with their shrieking.
Vargouilles' bites have poison, that have the potential for wounds that are awfully hard to cure.
Most horrible of all, is the vargouille reproductive system.
They can infect their paralyzed victims, who in turn will transform into one themselves.
Yanda
Braxen & Selethe
Erlathan
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Vargouilles
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Marock
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Yanda, prepared for trouble, immediately reaches for a vial with one hands while drawing out some regents with another. Faster than the eye can tract the two are combined and, then, pauses.
"Mind if we let them come to us?"
She will delay. If one of the critters comes towards them she will launch when it gets withing 20'. If one of the PCs advance, she will launch at the current distance of 40' at blue.
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Erlathan shudders as he looks on at the ugly wannabe bats, but ponders for a moment as he's intrigued by their unique appearance. "They're certainly ugly, but I wouldn't mind having a closer look... Once they're dead, of course," the elf says while he stretches his palms out, preparing to launch an acid splash.
Yanda readies an action to throw a grenade when the vargouille approach.
Braxen & Selethe (will bless the party)
Erlathan moves and readies an acid splash.
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Vargouilles
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Marock
I forgot to mention that in the template your Int and Cha become 6.
Have fun RP your savageness. ;)
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As the party steps into the chamber, Brax lets loose with an uncharacteristic cackle. "Ooooh! Yes! Yes! Brax likes this room! Yes, yes he does!" His speech and mannerisms seem....different. You notice small drops of spittle fly as he speaks and his forehead, palms and ears all seem to have sprouted hair. As he pulls out his bow he says "Ha! Have a got a little treat fer you!" and fires an arrow at the flying heads. You notice as the arrow sings through the air that he seems to have sprouted long claw-like fingernails as well.
A more hairy & speech impaired Braxen shoots an arrow at the flying head, but his newly acquired facial hair is hampering his shot.
Selethe blesses the party with divine energies.
Erlathan holds his charge ready.
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Vargouilles
Blue lets out an ear piercing scream, before flying across the ceiling forward.
Green shrieks as well, before flying forward in a faint arc.
If Yanda passes blue's save, she hurts the blue vargouille for 7.
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Marock