Ruins of Pathfinder: Reign of Winter (Inactive)

Game Master Robert Brookes

"I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust."

T.S. Eliot


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First levels: 2/4; THP:17/21; HP:43/43; MP:4/5
Stats:
HP:43 THP:21 / AC 17/21, T 11, FF 16 / Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +5 / Perception +2 / Initiative +3

Yeah, I really need to get flight ASAP. This snow is killing me.

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Marcellano is MIA across all his games right now, so I'll be taking his turn for him. Waiting on Styv still, if I don't hear from him tomorrow I'll push on.

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When Teladon lands, Marcellano is already rushing ahead through the heavy snow. Gouts of steam issue forth from the marine's mouth as he draws his rifle off of his back and grips it firmly in both gloved hands, trying to close the distance and ensure a clean shot at the owlbears. Styvanus likewise trudges through the thigh-deep snow, barely able to make headway, even with the help that the snowshoes give.

As he approaches the owlbear closest to him, the creature begins to move, padding through the snow with the same difficulty as everyone else is having. But the bear's considerable reach allows it to take a powerful snap of its beaked jaws at Rasso as he closes in, but the creature's beak is no match for the summoner's chitinous hide and thick, shaggy fur. Its bite finds no purchase, and all it serves to do is bring itself closer to Rasso's rending claws.

The other bear whirls around, dropping the elven swordsman from its grasp, to face Teladon. Letting out a shrill cry as it sweeps one enormous, feathered paw in his direction, the owlbear's talons dig into the snow as the elf ducks under the strike, then rolls aside in the snow to avoid another. Finally, when the bear comes in to try and bite him Teladon hops backward and parries the beak away with the strike to the owlbear's face using the flat of his blade.

Between the bear's strikes, Teladon sees the blonde-haired man watching him fight. Blue eyes without pupils or sclera watch Teladon's agile movements and cunning swordplay. "Irmán, eu non sei ti," the swordsman says firmly in elven as he circles the owlbear, "pero eu saúdo a súa chegada con gran apresada." Serving to divide the owlbear's attention, the swordsman glances to the others approaching, then looks back to Teladon.

"Estou Vuriel, Sarça da Everbloom. Quael--" Just as Vuriel introduces himself there is a cry from the Ulfen rider and a snap of an arrow being fired. Vuriel brings up his sword and swats the arrow out of the air, but in the same breath takes another to the chest. He coughs up a mouthful of blood and collapses onto his knees in the snow, then falls onto his side.

"Glory to the Goddess Elvanna!" The rider shouts from atop his owlbear, drawing another arrow from the quiver at his saddle. "Your frozen corpses will adorn the halls of Lord Halak!"

_________________

F16 Owlbear
hiiiighway toooo the dangerzone
Free Action: Release Vuriel
Full-Round Action: Full Attack
> Bite @ Teladon: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9 (miss)
> Claw @ Teladon: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9 (miss)
> Claw @ Teladon: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20 (hit)
>> Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 damage; plus grab
>>> Grab: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (14) + 14 = 28 (success; teladon and the owlbear gain the grappled condition)
 
H11 Owlbear
Move Action: Move to H13
Standard Action: Attack Rasso
> Bite @ Rasso: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17 (miss)
 
Bear Cavalry
Full-Round Action: Full Attack with Rapid Shot
> Arrow @ Vuriel: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (4) + 5 - 2 = 7 (miss)
> Arrow @ Vuriel: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 5 - 2 = 23 (hit; threat)
>> Confirm Critical Hit: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (13) + 5 - 2 = 16 (miss) (no crit)
>> Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
 
Note: The red X on the map indicates that Vuriel is down. The blue brackets around Teladon and the Owlbear in F16 indicate they have the grappled condition.

Elven:
"Brother, I do not know who you are, but I greet your arrival with great appreciation!"

"I am Vuriel, Briar of the Everbloom. Who--"

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Ordrud, Talavuc/Naasvit and Ar'Z, you're up!


Half-orc warrior | HP 72/72 | Bond 6/6 | LoH 5/5 | Smite 2/2 | 1st 2/2 | Ferocity 1/1 | AC 21 Touch 11 FF 20 CMD 20 | Fort +8 Ref +5 Will +7(+9) | Initiative +1 | Perception +6, Darkvision 60 ft.

Round 1

Ordrud is stunned by the bear abominations. The beaks, large eyes, and feathers look horrific on that scale. What freaks of nature are they? The dwarf called them owlbears?

In his delay, he watches his companions charge past him. His feet feel heavier than they should. He blinks hard and struggles forward to get out of the way of the tree while pulling the musket free from his shoulder. He aims over the head of the captain trusting the marine that this is better than a reliable sling stone. He exhales and presses the trigger igniting flame and thunder.

When the smoke clears his eyes, the monster is uninjured. "ARGG!" Ordrud howls in frustration. The thoughts scream in his head, I SHOULD HAVE USED THE SLING! tossing the musket into the snow.
__________________________________________
move action from N12 to L14
free action to equip musket
attack owlbear H13 ranged touch: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
if hit, damage: 1d12 ⇒ 6
free action to drop the musket

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Noting that he musket also misfired and now has the broken condition.


Sin Mage (Gluttony) 3
Stats:
HP 22/22; AC 11, Flat Footed 10, Touch 11; CMD 11; Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +4; Perception +4; Initiative +1

The F16 Owlbear still needs to make a save for the ray of enfeeblement I believe (Fortitude 17; 6 Str damage total or save for 3 total). Penalty wouldn't be enough to stop the successful attack on Teladon, but will save him a couple points of damage.


Female Human (erutaki) Druid (arctic) 3 / Guardian/Hierophant 1

Talavuc followed along with the rest, keeping pace easily even as Naasvit struggled with the deep snow. The powder seemed to support her easily and she smiled a bit as they hurried along.

The sight startled her as they reached the site the others had heard. She gave a quick signal to Naasvit, ordering him to attack the nearest beast. The mink gave her a worried glance at the sight of such a massive predator, but he bounded through the snow none the less.

Talavuc glared at the man on the back of one of the fearsome creatures. A hunter, but why does he hunt this prey? She sought deep for magics in her mind, but found them lacking, spells and prayers spent and the energy lost for the time being. Something still burned within, though, indelibly bound to her spirit as if it were a part of her. It burned like fire and froze like the northern winds of her home. She reached out in her mind, grabbing ahold of it and shaping it with desire. "Let the hunter become prey!" The words came unbidden to her lips and she hurled the magics forth, fire sparking to life near the hunter. A globe of fire formed quickly near the hunter upon the bear, flashing towards him.
_____________________________________________
Talavuc
Free Action: Direct Naasvit to attack the Owlbear at I13
Standard Action: Use Inspired Spell to cast Flaming Sphere on the hunter at E14. (4/5 Mythic Power remaining)
Damage for Flaming Sphere: 3d6 ⇒ (4, 4, 5) = 13 fire. DC 16 Reflex negates.

Naasvit
Full Round Action: Move to M13


Male Dwarf Cleric (Forge-Master) / 3 Mythic Guardian 1

Ar'Zarrcal moved as far as his short legs could carry him through the deep snow. Even with snow shoes it was not a great distance. Between panting breathes, he called for guidance from his divine patron. Though a minor incantation, he found the sureness of action flow into him and he raised his shield before him, ready to do battle with the Owlbears and their riders.

----------------------------------------------
Move: Move straight forward maximum distance.
Standard Action: Cast Guidance

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F16 Owlbear Fortitude Save to the Danger Zone: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14 (nice, -6 Str, unfortunately still beat Teladon's AC by 1 point)
 
Full post being typed up now

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Huffing breathily, Gwynn takes wide strides in her snowshoes, breaking away from the group the moment the bears come into view. With the snow slowing her down, she puts all of the effort she can into maneuvering in to a close enough range to get a good shot off, trudging up behind Rasso as she unholsters her revolver. "Go show'm what a real bear-crab-thing's all about," the blonde notes with a grimace to the horrifying-looking summoner.

The owlbears are already in the process of attacking the elven warrior as the group approaches. One lunges at the blonde-haired swordsman, finding its first raking paw batted aside by the flat of his curveblade, the second strike hits the snow as the swordsman leaps over the attack, landing down in time to duck below the incoming bite with the feathered bear's horrific beak. Blue eyes scan to the side, and the elven man barely manages to dodge another raking paw from the second bear, and finds himself grabbed by its other paw, dragged in towards it as its ferocious beak digs down through his protective clothing, eliciting screams and blood.

Struggling to break free of the bear's hold on him, the elf batters at the creature with the pommel of his sword, but all he can feel is the creature's immense weight bearing down on his chest and its beak tearing at the soft flesh of his shoulder.

Fenyx spares not a glance for the owlbear nearest to them. Seeing the form of Ordrud's back between he and the creature's path is all the reassurance he needs that his attention is best invested elsewhere. As he steps forward beyond the form of Ar'Zarrcal to stand beside Teladon, the necromancer begins withdrawing his the left sleeve of his robe up to the elbow, revealing once more the necrophidius tattoo that coils about the length of his forearm.

"Бул дос авторитет фарси пого: венеат."

It begins shedding a sickly, green glow, growing in strength until it begins scintillating brightly. In the span of scant seconds, the energies drain from the tattoo and into the waiting grasp of his right palm, coalescing into a writhing orb of necromantic energies awaiting the direction of he who commands it. Noting the elf's predicament, Fenyx prepares to give the man a fighting chance against his much larger foe.

"Венеат сега, и се откажува од вашиот каменолом, ѕвер."

As Fenyx's right hand lashes out, the energy takes on one more the form of the tattoo that birthed it—a skeletal serpent with a human skull at the fore, streaking across the air to impact the owlbear in one of it's enormous haunches. The poisonous veridian serpent disappears into the owlbear, washing the creature briefly in its dark energy. The owlbear lets out a howl of pain and confusion as the magic makes its muscles shrivel and throb with aching pain.

Meanwhile, Yvonne begins trudging through the snow slowly but steadily towards the same owlbear.

The air gusted around the strike team made up from the best that all of the world could still provide. Ahead of them riders mounted atop beasts that were amalgamations of owl and bear hooted and squawked in animistic fury. Taking a step in the snow, Teladon's snowshoe sunk down in the white thick powder, the elf grimaced. He would know who this elf was that was so far from home, standing his ground against the riders.

The wind gusted hard against his cloak, and Teladon became wrapped in a whirling nimbus of orange, yellow and red leaves. Bring fear to the hearts of men, my champion. Let them them be reminded why the dark places of the night are still feared. Be my herald and let none stand before you. The hour approaches... DO NOT BE FOUND WANTING! An ancient voice cawed out to him from the dark place in his own heart. It was the same place that carried with it the onus of responsibility to whatever power had so recently claimed him.

Touching that part inside of himself, Teladon drew his blade forth in one hand. The black scimitar FLARED into a life of its own. Color the hue of a bloody sunset arched around his blade, hissing and sputtering. Pushing himself though the snow the blades radiance grew brighter and brighter as he pushed his way towards the owlbear's. It sang to him, cried to him, begged him to sound the horn and call the hunt. He was the stag and the forest was his domain. Gathering his will, a wellspring of joy, anger, pain and pure unbridled life flooded though him from the part of himself that was not his own. Gathering the power and energy, the wind sucked in towards him. He placed his right hand on the ground and squatted before EXPLODING upward into the air with a furious yell. Sailing like a leaf upon the wind, Teladon jumped thirty five feet toward the southern most owlbear. The blade in his hand contained to pulse with light, growing brighter and brighter.

Leaping over the snow in an arc nearly ten feet high, Teladon roared in power and fury as he landed behind the owlbear. "THE HOUR APPROACHES... AND YOU SERVE THE WRONG QUEEN!"

When Teladon lands, Marcellano is already rushing ahead through the heavy snow. Gouts of steam issue forth from the marine's mouth as he draws his rifle off of his back and grips it firmly in both gloved hands, trying to close the distance and ensure a clean shot at the owlbears. Styvanus likewise trudges through the thigh-deep snow, barely able to make headway, even with the help that the snowshoes give.

As he approaches the owlbear closest to him, the creature begins to move, padding through the snow with the same difficulty as everyone else is having. But the bear's considerable reach allows it to take a powerful snap of its beaked jaws at Rasso as he closes in, but the creature's beak is no match for the summoner's chitinous hide and thick, shaggy fur. Its bite finds no purchase, and all it serves to do is bring itself closer to Rasso's rending claws.

The other bear whirls around, dropping the elven swordsman from its grasp, to face Teladon. Letting out a shrill cry as it sweeps one enormous, feathered paw in his direction, the owlbear's talons dig into the snow as the elf ducks under the strike, then rolls aside in the snow to avoid another. Finally, when the bear comes in to try and bite him Teladon hops backward and parries the beak away with the strike to the owlbear's face using the flat of his blade.

Between the bear's strikes, Teladon sees the blonde-haired man watching him fight. Blue eyes without pupils or sclera watch Teladon's agile movements and cunning swordplay. "Irmán, eu non sei ti," the swordsman says firmly in elven as he circles the owlbear, "pero eu saúdo a súa chegada con gran apresada." Serving to divide the owlbear's attention, the swordsman glances to the others approaching, then looks back to Teladon.

"Estou Vuriel, Sarça da Everbloom. Quael--" Just as Vuriel introduces himself there is a cry from the Ulfen rider and a snap of an arrow being fired. Vuriel brings up his sword and swats the arrow out of the air, but in the same breath takes another to the chest. He coughs up a mouthful of blood and collapses onto his knees in the snow, then falls onto his side.

"Glory to the Goddess Elvanna!" The rider shouts from atop his owlbear, drawing another arrow from the quiver at his saddle. "Your frozen corpses will adorn the halls of Lord Halak!"

Even with his new snowshoes, the snow is incredibly difficult to navigate. Rasso tries to go charging forward to engage the owlbears, but he only makes it a paltry twenty feet or so by ploughing through the several foot deep loose powder. He leaves a wide shallow trench behind him, and soon his new fur in completely encrusted in snow dingleberries. He vents his frustrations in a series of ursine roars, which match the owlbears in volume if not depth. "C'mon ye foul beasties, I'll tear yer feckin' beaks off!"

Ordrud is stunned by the bear abominations. The beaks, large eyes, and feathers look horrific on that scale. What freaks of nature are they? The dwarf called them owlbears?

In his delay, he watches his companions charge past him. His feet feel heavier than they should. He blinks hard and struggles forward to get out of the way of the tree while pulling the musket free from his shoulder. He aims over the head of the captain trusting the marine that this is better than a reliable sling stone. He exhales and presses the trigger igniting flame and thunder.

When the smoke clears his eyes, the monster is uninjured. "ARGG!" Ordrud howls in frustration. The thoughts scream in his head, I SHOULD HAVE USED THE SLING! tossing the broken musket into the snow.

Talavuc followed along with the rest, keeping pace easily even as Naasvit struggled with the deep snow. The powder seemed to support her easily and she smiled a bit as they hurried along.

The sight startled her as they reached the site the others had heard. She gave a quick signal to Naasvit, ordering him to attack the nearest beast. The mink gave her a worried glance at the sight of such a massive predator, but he bounded through the snow none the less.

Talavuc glared at the man on the back of one of the fearsome creatures. A hunter, but why does he hunt this prey? She sought deep for magics in her mind, but found them lacking, spells and prayers spent and the energy lost for the time being. Something still burned within, though, indelibly bound to her spirit as if it were a part of her. It burned like fire and froze like the northern winds of her home. She reached out in her mind, grabbing ahold of it and shaping it with desire. "Let the hunter become prey!" The words came unbidden to her lips and she hurled the magics forth, fire sparking to life near the hunter. A globe of fire formed quickly near the hunter upon the bear, flashing towards him.

The sphere of rolling flame leaves trough of melted snow behind it as it moves, and as the sphere rolls up towards the cavalry soldier atop his owlbear, he lets out a pained and panicked scream, recoiling from the sphere as he guides his mount imto it to shield himself from harm. The owlbear lets out a ragged shriek as its feathers are engulfed by flames. The creature wails and shrieks, bucking back and forth as it tries to pull itself away from the fire.

Ar'Zarrcal moved as far as his short legs could carry him through the deep snow. Even with snow shoes it was not a great distance. Between panting breathes, he called for guidance from his divine patron. Though a minor incantation, he found the sureness of action flow into him and he raised his shield before him, ready to do battle with the Owlbears and the rider.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
        << Encounter: Now or Never | Round II | Environment: Heavy Snow (4 squares of movement) | Encounter Map: Hunting Grounds >>
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
As Marcellano watches Ordrud throw down the musket in frustration, the CHelish marine lets out a scoff of annoyance and opens his mouth to bark a correction to Ordrud's form with the firearm. But on doing so, all Marcellano can do is choke and gag. At first it feels like his throat is dry -- too dry to speak -- only to soon feel as though his mouth were full of sand. Marcellano staggers, stumbles and lets out a hoarse croaking sound before dropping to one knee in the snow. His skin burns, radiating with eerie black smoke that wafts up through his flesh while at the same time squirms under his veins.

A sound throbs in Marcellano's mind, drums, a warchant of ancient times pounding to the rhythm of his own heart. Blinking through a sudden wave of seething pain, Marcellano sees ice crystals beginning to form on his skin, soon hardening into sheathes of frost. He panicks, slapping at his hands, trying to brush the ice off as it frosts over his entire body beneath his cold-weather gear. He looks around, searching for some ill-fated witch he had missed in the battlefield, finding none.

Then, in the back of his mind he hears a rasping, ancient voice of an old woman. Granny sends her thanks, Dearie, followed by a whooping cackle as Marcellano's flesh is encrusted in a sheet of ice-like armor, leaving him resembling a corpse perfectly preserved by the snow. Yet still he breathes in hot exhalations, still feels the godsdamned sting of the cold air on his face. It's harder to move, every motion cracking and crunching ice, but it feels like armor on his skin.

"Captain!" Gwynn shouts, spotting Marcellano undergoing this transformation, "Captain something's wrong with Marc!" As she moves up beside Fenyx, putting some distance between herself and the ice-crusted Marine, Gwynn looks back to the ferocious owlbear and levels her revolver at it, squeezing off a round that leaves a plume of blood in the air and patch of red in the beast's feathers.

__________________________

Pale Tower Cavalry
Reflex Save vs. Flaming Sphere: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18 (pass)
 
C 13 Owlbear Mount
Reflex Save vs. Flaming Sphere: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13 (fail; 19 fire damage [fire vulnerability])
 
Gwynn
Move Action: Move to M16
Standard Action: Shoot @ H13 Owlbear (point-blank shot)
> Attack Roll: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21 (hit)
>> Damage: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
 

Vuriel (Dying)

GM Rolls:

Constitution Check: 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (19) - 4 = 15 (success)

_____________
INITIATIVE
Gwynn = 24
Fenyx = 20
Vuriel = 18
Marcellano = 17
Teladon = 14
Rasso = 12
Styvanus = 8
Pale Tower Bear Cavalry = 7
Ordrud = 6
Talavuc/Naasvit = 4
Ar'Z = 1

Fenyx, Marcellano, Teladon, Rasso and Styvanus - You're up!


First levels: 2/4; THP:17/21; HP:43/43; MP:4/5
Stats:
HP:43 THP:21 / AC 17/21, T 11, FF 16 / Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +5 / Perception +2 / Initiative +3

"Is that the best ye've got? C'mon!" Rasso taunts the owlbear. His breath streams from his mouth in great puffing clouds as he closes the remaining few yards to the feathered beast. It appears the other owlbear will soon be swarmed by his companions, and Teladon is facing this one all alone. Don't want him to end up like that fella there, Rasso thinks, looking to the bloody form of Vuriel in the snow.

The synthesist displaces great mounds of snow in his rush towards the ursine monstrosity. A he takes the last few steps Rasso lunges forward. His mandibles open wide to reveal successive rows of shark teeth as he tries to bite the owlbear facing off with the red elf. He aim for the owlbear's rear left leg, hoping to tear the limb off.
_____________________________

Move to H16

Bite on Owlbear FG/16-17 (PA): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14Doubt that hits...
Damage: 1d6 + 12 ⇒ (5) + 12 = 17


Sin Mage (Gluttony) 3
Stats:
HP 22/22; AC 11, Flat Footed 10, Touch 11; CMD 11; Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +4; Perception +4; Initiative +1

Seeing Rasso's form lumbering towards the owlbear Teladon now faces off against, Fenyx finds himself in agreement: their elven companion would need assistance against his adversary. Thinking to weave another debilitating spell against the creature, his mind begins wrapping itself around an altogether different solution. An intuition previously unheeded seethes to life and demands acknowledgment; ancient phrases and arcane gestures emerging from somewhere unknown, unbidden and unrelenting.

"એવો સમય લગભગ વધે
આ આગ ઉચ્ચ વૃદ્ધિ
આ ડોશી ઓફ સન
માંસ અને હાડકાના ઓગળે
"

Such a spell the Necromancer has never wrought before, nor could he do so again upon command, and yet it manifests in defiance of such conventional notions. Wide, sweeping motions of arms are soon accompanied by a forceful thrust of his right hand, index and middle fingers pointed upwards with thumb outstretched. Torrents of heat hiss to life above Fenyx's head, gathering in strength until a blaze erupts and roars through the air to strike the owlbear locked in a struggle with Teladon. As the blast of fire slams into the creature's back, burning hair and sizzling flesh, a smaller mote of flame continues arcing further afield at the creature bearing (Sorry, couldn't resist) the weight of a rider. The flames impact and disperse about the creature's face in a swell of heat and pain.

Fenyx stares at his still-outstretched hand incredulously. Meanwhile, Yvonne continues trudging slowly through the snow, unimpressed by the necromancer's display of fiery ruin.
__________________________________________________

Standard Action: Using Wild Surge to cast burning arc.
>Primary Target: Tom Cruise F16 Owlbear (Reflex Save DC 17 for half)

>>Burning Arc #1: 5d6 ⇒ (1, 4, 3, 2, 6) = 16
>Secondary Target: C13 Owlbear (Reflex Save DC 15 for half)
>>Burning Arc #2: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 4) = 8

Ending Location: N15

Yvonne Move Action: To L13.

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As the battle rages on and the lingering effects of Baba Yaga's mantle continue to wrack the group, Talavuc watches on in amazement of her latest feat of supernatural expertise. Seeing the rolling sphere of flame she conjured working as it does, she finds herself momentarily unaware of a creeping sensation of vertigo building in her. Soon, it becomes too much to simply ignore.

Lurching forward, the druid is forced to take a knee as what started as a whisper of voices in the back of her mind turns into a roaring chorus of animal cries. Centuries old contingencies put in place by the Queen of Witches should all her riders fall begin to take effect, and through Talavuc's blood a cursed magic courses wildly. The druid's head tilts back, her mouth opens and she releases a roar like that of a bear, followed by a gout of hellish green flame from her eyes, nose and mouth. The flames swirl over her body, taking on the form of a bristle-haired old woman with a hooked nose and an all-too pleased smile.

The flames then break apart with a cackle as they turn into a swarm of ravens that dive back down towards Talavuc, punching into her body with ripples of light and screeching cries. Talavuc's mind is assailed by the magic, and the Ulfen rider atop his owlbear watches the display of supernatural energy with confusion and disbelief. When the attack ends, Talavuc feels her mind clouded, and sees that the wayfinder she has kept close to her at all times is now smoldering nearby with that same emerald glow. Steam rising off of it from eldritch runes blazing on its surface, slowly cooling and dimming.

Take it, an old woman's voice demands of the druid in her mind. Take that fragment of your will!

_____________
Talavuc has taken some permanent ability score reductions as detailed in the discussion thread, and gained an Intelligent item forged out of shards of her own consciousness combined with ancient witchcraft.


Male Grey Elf (Fey) Magus 3/Champion/Archmage 1 AC 16/12/14/ HP 30/30 / F +5 R +3 W +3 (+9 vs cold weather) / Init. +2 / Perc. +9 / Mythic 3/5)

Landing in a blossom of snow, Teladon is momentarily stunned when the Owlbears claws fail to find purchase though the elf's skin. The jagged claws looked wickedly sharp and had torn through his mail, like a hot knife through churned butter, but they had failed to even nick his skin despite the pressure the elven warrior had felt as they scrapped along his ribs. Shaking his head in disbelief, all further concerns about unexpected attack fled from his mind as the mighty beast latched powerful arms around him and dragged him into a ferocious embrace.

Roaring in a bestial power from deep inside of himself, Teladon felt a jolt run through him. Insignificant creature! Feel the strength of summer! Teladon roared, before breaking the lock with a powerful smash of his arms and pummeling the creature to the ground in an overwhelming display of strength. Landing atop of the owlbear, Teladon's eyes grew wide behind his mask. What is this I am feeling inside of myself? What bonds did the Witch Queen tie to me?

SA: Escape a Grapple 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Reverse the Grapple on the Owlbear.

FYI I took no damage between the ray and my DR vs Cold Iron. If the Owlbear can beat the DR let me know via e-mail.

Dark Archive

Male Chelish Human Fighter 1/Gunslinger 2/Guardian 1
Stats:
HP 39/39; AC 19, Flat Footed 17, Touch 12; CMD 19; Fort +8, Ref +4, Will +2; Perception +7; Initiative +3

Reeling from the effects of something he didn’t understand, Marcellano takes no time worrying about his new ‘condition’. Though he feels stiffer, yet more durable, he also has a more difficult time aiming his shot. He aims his rifle at the cavalry rider’s owlbear, and with a rapid fluid motion not present previous to his encounter with the Rider, is able to get off two shots in the time it took him previously to take one, the sound of two cracks of gunfire letting the others know that he’s still in fighting condition, whatever effects taking place on him may be.

______________________________________

Marcellano:
Full Round Action: Ranged Attack w/ Rifle vs Owlbear C13, using Deadly Aim + Mythic Rapid Shot (Two Attacks, no penalty from Rapid Shot)
(Subtract penalties from soft cover as needed)
Attack #1 vs Owlbear C13's Touch AC: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (13) + 5 - 1 = 17
Damage if Hit: 1d10 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Attack #2 vs Owlbear C13's Touch AC: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (7) + 5 - 1 = 11
Damage if Hit: 1d10 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
(If the first shot takes out the Owlbear, redirect my second shot at the Cavalry Rider)

Kind of a short post, but I just woke up. Wanted to get a start on getting back into all of my PF campaigns after a hectic month.

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The crackling arc of flame conjured by Fenyx leaves smoldering wounds on two of the owlbears, feathers crisped and flesh bubbling from the burns. The rider struggles to keep his mount under control in spite of its grievous wounds, and the owlbear lets loose a shrill cry of pain as it buries one side of its face in the snow in an attempt to relieve its agony. A moment later, Marcellano's rifle rounds leave red blossoms in its white feathers, and the owlbear collapses onto its side in the snow, throwing its rider down onto his back, Talavuc's sphere of flame churning in the air just above him.

Meanwhile, Teladon struggles to restrain one of the ferocious owlbears all by himself. The beast sweeps in with a raking claw and the elf grasps at its arm, finding another paw's claws raking across his back through his armor. The first claw sweeps across his chest and while it scratches through his armor the claws do no harm to Teladon's supernaturally tough flesh. The owlbear lets loose with a shrill cry and bites down on the elven warrior's shoulder, shakes and pulls back a bloody beak, having left a small wound at Teladon's collar.

The last of the bears continues assailing Rasso, as the summoner fully maintain's the bear's attention with his size and ferocity. The bear wastes no time, swatting at the summoner's heat and digging claws into his thick, chitinous armor. Rasso's smaller size works against him as he is dragged bodily towards the owlbear, who tries to land another huge sweeping claw rake against him. The summoner raises one armor-plated arm, blocking the incoming attack, only to see the bird-like visage of the beast lunge in close to snap down on the raised arm. The chitinous plates crack and pop as blood bubbles up from within, and both Rasso and his eidolon howl in joined pain with a twinned voice.

"Rasso!" Styvanus screams, seeing his friend hauled into the bear's grasp. Shield out, the Captain springs out of the snow with a startling burst of speed. Ice falls from his boots as he rushes the bear, bringing his shield down against the side of its head with a resounding crash and a sonorous hum. The owlbear looks up, unfazed by the strike and shieks at the Captain, blood and saliva dangling in sticky strands from between its beak. Centering himself, Styvanus swings around and backhands the bear with the shield again, shattering ice that had collected on the shield's surface and leaving a vicious crack across the creature's beak. Then, keeping his circular momentum, the Captain hops up into the air and delivers a kick across the beat's face, causing its head to jerk back from the force of the blow.

As he lands, Styvanus stares the owlbear down. "Let him go!"

The bear rider, his mount dead, scrambles away from the creature's corpse and struggles to his feet. Without wearing snowshoes, he sinks down waist deep into the snow, struggling and gasping for breath as the sphere of flame conjured by Talavuc rolls dangerously close through the snow and atop the burning body of his owlbear.

__________

Owlbear F16 Reflex Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12 (fail; fire vulnerability +50% damage)
Owlbear C13 Reflex Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12 (fail; fire vulnerability +50% damage)
 
F16 Owlbear (Grappled)
Full-Round Action: Full-attack on Teladon
Claw: 1d20 + 8 - 2 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 8 - 2 - 1 = 20 (hit)
> Damage: 1d6 + 4 - 1 ⇒ (5) + 4 - 1 = 8 -5 DR Cold Iron = 3 Damage
Claw: 1d20 + 8 - 2 - 1 ⇒ (18) + 8 - 2 - 1 = 23 (hit)
> Damage: 1d6 + 4 - 1 ⇒ (1) + 4 - 1 = 4 -5 DR Cold Iron = No Damage
Bite: 1d20 + 8 - 2 - 2 ⇒ (15) + 8 - 2 - 2 = 19 (hit)
> Damage: 1d6 + 4 - 1 ⇒ (4) + 4 - 1 = 7 -5 DR Cold Iron = 2 Damage
 
Total Damage to Teladon 5
 
H13 Owlbear
Full-Round Action: Full-attack Rasso
Claw: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24 (hit; automatic grab attempt)
> Grab Attempt: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (4) + 14 = 18 (success vs CMD 18; Rasso is grappled; Owlbear and Rasso at -4 Dex)
>> Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 to Rasso
Claw: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11 (miss)
Bite: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24 (hit)
> Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 to Rasso
 
Total Damage to Rasso: 11
 
Styvanus (DMPC)
Swift Action: (1 mythic point) - Fleet Charge (move 1 square through snow and attack; +1 bonus to attack and damage, bypasses all DR)
> Shield Bash: 1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 7 + 1 = 12 (miss)
Full-Round Action: Brawler's Flurry
> Shield Bash: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 (hit; critical threat)
>> Confirm Crit: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 (critical hit)
>>> Damage: 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (4, 2) + 6 = 12
> Unarmed Strike: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15 (hit)
> Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
 
Total Damage to G13 Owlbear: 17
 
Pale Tower Calvary
Move Action: Stand from prone
Move Action 1 square of movement to E14

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Ordrud, Talavuc and Ar'Zarrcal are up!


Half-orc warrior | HP 72/72 | Bond 6/6 | LoH 5/5 | Smite 2/2 | 1st 2/2 | Ferocity 1/1 | AC 21 Touch 11 FF 20 CMD 20 | Fort +8 Ref +5 Will +7(+9) | Initiative +1 | Perception +6, Darkvision 60 ft.

Round 2

Still frustrated with his delay and the broken musket, Ordrud howls when he sees Rasso grabbed and mangled. A roar fills his ears. Then, the captain cannot persuade the beast to drop Rasso, and Ordrud’s vision tunnels to the owlbear. Furiously focused on the magical beast, he draws Feyswatter and closes the last few snow-shoe steps before bringing his fine cold iron blade sweeping down from the Lastwall high guard position.
______________________
free action to rage +4 Str, round 1 of 10
move to J13 and free action to draw Feyswatter
power attack owlbear G13: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 8 + 2 = 18
if hit, damage: 2d6 + 6 + 3 + 3 ⇒ (3, 3) + 6 + 3 + 3 = 18


Male Dwarf Cleric (Forge-Master) / 3 Mythic Guardian 1

Unwilling and unable to properly reach the combat in this high snow, Ar'Zarrcal watches with dismay as the power of the Ancient Crone seemes to wreak more chaos upon the spirits and physical forms of his companions. How deeply her magic seemed to infuse them and yet they did not question it? Were these changes wrought by Karzoug would they have merely accepted it as well? Why had did he accept it? Pushing his thoughts aside as his head began to pound he focused instead on the cold, the sights before him, and the smell of blood and Owlbear in the air.

Halting in place, he struggled for a moment to retrieve his crossbow, trusting to it over the unfamiliar musket. Bracing it just over the rim of his shield, he steadied his aim and let loose a bolt into the back of the dismounted warrior.

_____________________________
Move Action: Draw Crossbow
Standard Action: Fire Crossbow at Dismounted Owlbear Cavalryman

Crossbow Attack: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 2 + 1 = 19
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 7


Female Human (erutaki) Druid (arctic) 3 / Guardian/Hierophant 1

Talavuc groans, keeping her footing, but only just barely. Her mind reels from the sudden assault. It felt like something had been torn from her, and indeed, it had. The old woman's voice bounced around inside her skull, Take that fragment of your will! She shook for a moment and focused, just barely extending her will to direct the orb of fire. It rolled down towards the dismounted rider as she attempted to smash it into him.

Naasvit bounded forward, following the most recently commands. He moved towards the massive creature in front of him, teeth bared.
___________________________________
Talavuc
Standard Action: Try and recover from the mantle having some fun with her.
Move Action: Direct orb to E14 to attack the dismounted rider. Fire Damage: 3d6 ⇒ (5, 1, 3) = 9 Reflex DC 16 negates.

Naasvit
Full Round Action: Double move to J13.

Lantern Lodge RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4

As Marcellano watches Ordrud throw down the musket in frustration, the Chelish marine lets out a scoff of annoyance and opens his mouth to bark a correction to Ordrud's form with the firearm. But on doing so, all Marcellano can do is choke and gag. At first it feels like his throat is dry -- too dry to speak -- only to soon feel as though his mouth were full of sand. Marcellano staggers, stumbles and lets out a hoarse croaking sound before dropping to one knee in the snow. His skin burns, radiating with eerie black smoke that wafts up through his flesh while at the same time squirms under his veins.

A sound throbs in Marcellano's mind, drums, a warchant of ancient times pounding to the rhythm of his own heart. Blinking through a sudden wave of seething pain, Marcellano sees ice crystals beginning to form on his skin, soon hardening into sheathes of frost. He panicks, slapping at his hands, trying to brush the ice off as it frosts over his entire body beneath his cold-weather gear. He looks around, searching for some ill-fated witch he had missed in the battlefield, finding none.

Then, in the back of his mind he hears a rasping, ancient voice of an old woman. Granny sends her thanks, Dearie, followed by a whooping cackle as Marcellano's flesh is encrusted in a sheet of ice-like armor, leaving him resembling a corpse perfectly preserved by the snow. Yet still he breathes in hot exhalations, still feels the godsdamned sting of the cold air on his face. It's harder to move, every motion cracking and crunching ice, but it feels like armor on his skin.

"Captain!" Gwynn shouts, spotting Marcellano undergoing this transformation, "Captain something's wrong with Marc!" As she moves up beside Fenyx, putting some distance between herself and the ice-crusted Marine, Gwynn looks back to the ferocious owlbear and levels her revolver at it, squeezing off a round that leaves a plume of blood in the air and patch of red in the beast's feathers.

Seeing Rasso's form lumbering towards the owlbear Teladon now faces off against, Fenyx finds himself in agreement: their elven companion would need assistance against his adversary. Thinking to weave another debilitating spell against the creature, his mind begins wrapping itself around an altogether different solution. An intuition previously unheeded seethes to life and demands acknowledgment; ancient phrases and arcane gestures emerging from somewhere unknown, unbidden and unrelenting.

"એવો સમય લગભગ વધે
આ આગ ઉચ્ચ વૃદ્ધિ
આ ડોશી ઓફ સન
માંસ અને હાડકાના ઓગળે"

Such a spell the Necromancer has never wrought before, nor could he do so again upon command, and yet it manifests in defiance of such conventional notions. Wide, sweeping motions of arms are soon accompanied by a forceful thrust of his right hand, index and middle fingers pointed upwards with thumb outstretched. Torrents of heat hiss to life above Fenyx's head, gathering in strength until a blaze erupts and roars through the air to strike the owlbear locked in a struggle with Teladon. As the blast of fire slams into the creature's back, burning hair and sizzling flesh, a smaller mote of flame continues arcing further afield at the creature bearing the weight of a rider. The flames impact and disperse about the creature's face in a swell of heat and pain.

Fenyx stares at his still-outstretched hand incredulously. Meanwhile, Yvonne continues trudging slowly through the snow, unimpressed by the necromancer's display of fiery ruin.

The crackling arc of flame conjured by Fenyx leaves smoldering wounds on two of the owlbears, feathers crisped and flesh bubbling from the burns. The rider struggles to keep his mount under control in spite of its grievous wounds, and the owlbear lets loose a shrill cry of pain as it buries one side of its face in the snow in an attempt to relieve its agony. A moment later, Marcellano's rifle rounds leave red blossoms in its white feathers, and the owlbear collapses onto its side in the snow, throwing its rider down onto his back, Talavuc's sphere of flame churning in the air just above him.

As the battle rages on and the lingering effects of Baba Yaga's mantle continue to wrack the group, Talavuc watches on in amazement of her latest feat of supernatural expertise. Seeing the rolling sphere of flame she conjured working as it does, she finds herself momentarily unaware of a creeping sensation of vertigo building in her. Soon, it becomes too much to simply ignore.

Lurching forward, the druid is forced to take a knee as what started as a whisper of voices in the back of her mind turns into a roaring chorus of animal cries. Centuries old contingencies put in place by the Queen of Witches should all her riders fall begin to take effect, and through Talavuc's blood a cursed magic courses wildly. The druid's head tilts back, her mouth opens and she releases a roar like that of a bear, followed by a gout of hellish green flame from her eyes, nose and mouth. The flames swirl over her body, taking on the form of a bristle-haired old woman with a hooked nose and an all-too pleased smile.

The flames then break apart with a cackle as they turn into a swarm of ravens that dive back down towards Talavuc, punching into her body with ripples of light and screeching cries. Talavuc's mind is assailed by the magic, and the Ulfen rider atop his owlbear watches the display of supernatural energy with confusion and disbelief. When the attack ends, Talavuc feels her mind clouded, and sees that the wayfinder she has kept close to her at all times is now smoldering nearby with that same emerald glow. Steam rising off of it from eldritch runes blazing on its surface, slowly cooling and dimming.

Take it, an old woman's voice demands of the druid in her mind. Take that fragment of your will!

Reeling from the effects of something he didn’t understand, Marcellano takes no time worrying about his new ‘condition’. Though he feels stiffer, yet more durable, he also has a more difficult time aiming his shot. He aims his rifle at the cavalry rider’s owlbear, and with a rapid fluid motion not present previous to his encounter with the Rider, is able to get off two shots in the time it took him previously to take one, the sound of two cracks of gunfire letting the others know that he’s still in fighting condition, whatever effects taking place on him may be.

Teladon is momentarily stunned when the Owlbear's claws fail to find purchase though the elf's skin. The jagged claws looked wickedly sharp and had torn through his mail, like a hot knife through churned butter, but they had failed to even nick his skin despite the pressure the elven warrior had felt as they scrapped along his ribs. Shaking his head in disbelief, all further concerns about unexpected attack fled from his mind as the mighty beast latched powerful arms around him and dragged him into a ferocious embrace.

Roaring in a bestial power from deep inside of himself, Teladon felt a jolt run through him. "Insignificant creature! Feel the strength of summer!" Teladon roared, before breaking the lock with a powerful smash of his arms and pummeling the creature to the ground in an overwhelming display of strength. Landing atop of the owlbear, Teladon's eyes grew wide behind his mask. What is this I am feeling inside of myself? What bonds did the Witch Queen tie to me?

Teladon struggles to restrain one of the ferocious owlbears all by himself. The beast sweeps in with a raking claw and the elf grasps at its arm, finding another paw's claws raking across his back through his armor. The first claw sweeps across his chest and while it scratches through his armor the claws do no harm to Teladon's supernaturally tough flesh. The owlbear lets loose with a shrill cry and bites down on the elven warrior's shoulder, shakes and pulls back a bloody beak, having left a small wound at Teladon's collar.

"Is that the best ye've got? C'mon!" Rasso taunts the owlbear. His breath streams from his mouth in great puffing clouds as he closes the remaining few yards to the feathered beast. It appears the other owlbear will soon be swarmed by his companions, and Teladon is facing this one all alone. Don't want him to end up like that fella there, Rasso thinks, looking to the bloody form of Vuriel in the snow.

The synthesist displaces great mounds of snow in his rush towards the ursine monstrosity. A he takes the last few steps Rasso lunges forward. His mandibles open wide to reveal successive rows of shark teeth as he tries to bite the owlbear facing off with the red elf. He aim for the owlbear's rear left leg, hoping to tear the limb off but only finding purchase on the owlbear's loose skin, leaving a superficial gash across its thick, fatty hide.

The last of the bears continues assailing Rasso, as the summoner fully maintain's the bear's attention with his size and ferocity. The bear wastes no time, swatting at the summoner's heat and digging claws into his thick, chitinous armor. Rasso's smaller size works against him as he is dragged bodily towards the owlbear, who tries to land another huge sweeping claw rake against him. The summoner raises one armor-plated arm, blocking the incoming attack, only to see the bird-like visage of the beast lunge in close to snap down on the raised arm. The chitinous plates crack and pop as blood bubbles up from within, and both Rasso and his eidolon howl in joined pain with a twinned voice.

"Rasso!" Styvanus screams, seeing his friend hauled into the bear's grasp. Shield out, the Captain springs out of the snow with a startling burst of speed. Ice falls from his boots as he rushes the bear, bringing his shield down against the side of its head with a resounding crash and a sonorous hum. The owlbear looks up, unfazed by the strike and shieks at the Captain, blood and saliva dangling in sticky strands from between its beak. Centering himself, Styvanus swings around and backhands the bear with the shield again, shattering ice that had collected on the shield's surface and leaving a vicious crack across the creature's beak. Then, keeping his circular momentum, the Captain hops up into the air and delivers a kick across the beat's face, causing its head to jerk back from the force of the blow.

As he lands, Styvanus stares the owlbear down. "Let him go!"

The bear rider, his mount dead, scrambles away from the creature's corpse and struggles to his feet. Without wearing snowshoes, he sinks down waist deep into the snow, struggling and gasping for breath as the sphere of flame conjured by Talavuc rolls dangerously close through the snow and atop the burning body of his owlbear.

Still frustrated with his delay and the broken musket, Ordrud howls when he sees Rasso grabbed and mangled. Then, the captain cannot persuade the beast to drop Rasso, and Ordrud’s vision tunnels to the owlbear. Furiously focused on the magical beast, he draws Feyswatter and closes the last few snow-shoe steps before bringing his fine cold iron blade sweeping down from the Lastwall high guard position. The tree he stands under the bough of sheds snow from its branches, landing in powdry white puffs on the orc-blooded warrior's shoulders.

Unwilling and unable to properly reach the combat in this high snow, Ar'Zarrcal watches with dismay as the power of the Ancient Crone seemes to wreak more chaos upon the spirits and physical forms of his companions. How deeply her magic seemed to infuse them and yet they did not question it? Were these changes wrought by Karzoug would they have merely accepted it as well? Why had did he accept it? Pushing his thoughts aside as his head began to pound he focused instead on the cold, the sights before him, and the smell of blood and Owlbear in the air.

Halting in place, he struggled for a moment to retrieve his crossbow, trusting to it over the unfamiliar musket. Bracing it just over the rim of his shield, he steadied his aim and let loose a bolt into the back of the dismounted warrior. The bolt strikes squarely into the rider's back through his breastplate, eliciting a scream of pain.

Just as that bolt is hitting home, across the blood-speckled snow, Talavuc groans, keeping her footing, but only just barely. Her mind reels from the sudden assault. It felt like something had been torn from her, and indeed, it had. The old woman's voice bounced around inside her skull, Take that fragment of your will! She shook for a moment and focused, just barely extending her will to direct the orb of fire. It rolled down towards the dismounted rider who turns too late, watching in horror as the spongy sphere of rolling flames passed right over him, blistering his flesh with scorching heat.

Naasvit bounds forward, following the most recently commands, moving towards the massive creature in front of him as the cavalryman screams in agony.
 
 
 
 
 
 
<< Encounter: Now or Never | Round III | Environment: Heavy Snow (4 squares of movement) | Encounter Map: Hunting Grounds >>
 
 
 
 
 
 
A gunshot rings out as Gwynn fires another round from her revolver into the bear grappling with Rasso, striking it in the hind flank with a blossom of blood on white feathers. The blonde gunslinger exhales a puff of steam and shifts her footing in the deep snow, shooting a look over to Talavuc and Marcellano before turning her attention back to the battle. Her hands tremble from the cold, throat tight with anxiety and breathing hasty.

_________________

INITIATIVE
Gwynn = 24
Fenyx = 20
Vuriel = 18
Marcellano = 17
Teladon = 14
Rasso = 12
Styvanus = 8
Pale Tower Bear Cavalry = 7
Ordrud = 6
Talavuc/Naasvit = 4
Ar'Z = 1
 
Fenyx, Marcellano, Teladon, Rasso and Styvanus - You're up!
 
Ar'Zarrcal; Critical Threat: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18 (crit)
Additional Critical Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 7
 
Pale Tower Calvary: Reflex Save (DC 16): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6 (fail)
 
Gwynn
Standard Action: Shoot H13 owlbear
> Attack Roll: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15
>> Damage: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3


First levels: 2/4; THP:17/21; HP:43/43; MP:4/5
Stats:
HP:43 THP:21 / AC 17/21, T 11, FF 16 / Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +5 / Perception +2 / Initiative +3

"Oh, ye want ta cuddle do ye!?" Rasso roars angrily. He fights back against the larger bear-hybrid creature, using its own methods against it. "Let's see who can tickle more, ye feathered f$#%er!" Rasso first tries to bring his injured arm to bear, hoping to clamp down on the owlbear's rear right leg, and sever an artery. The creature's beak has damaged him more than he thought though and his thrust lacks strength. The owlbear uses its greater weight to easily pin the claw against Rasso's body. This creates an opening for the merman's uninjured pincer, which he jams into the owlbear's belly before opening it up as wide as it would go, then he tears the claw back out. The attack leaves a ragged hole in the owlbear's stomach, through which intestines and blood begin to tumble out. The owlbear rears back, roaring and screeching in pain, but it maintains its grip on the synthesist.

"Raaaaaaarg!" Rasso growls, pulling himself close and trying to get a grip on the owlbear's throat with his shark tooth-lined mandibles. The thing's thrashing is too great, and Rasso succeeds only in filling his mouth with feathers. This damned thing squeezes tighter than my aunt Fedwina!
_____________________________

Spending one mythic point to activate mythic power attack with no penalties for 1 minute
Full attack on the owlbear.

Claw 1 (grappled, MPA): 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (1) + 9 - 2 = 8 Nooooo, miss.
Claw 2 (grappled, MPA): 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (18) + 9 - 2 = 25
Bite (grappled, MPA): 1d20 + 9 - 2 ⇒ (5) + 9 - 2 = 12 Noooo, miss.

Claw 2 Damage: 1d4 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10 (x_x)* minimum damage...

DAMN YOU DICE ROLLER!

Liberty's Edge

Stats
Spoiler:
  • HP 25/25
  • AC 20( T: 12/ FF:16)
  • Fort + 4|Ref + 2|Will + 2
  • Init + 2
  • Perception +1

Styvanus' arm ached beneath the weight of his shield as he stared down the great white beast. He stole a backward glance over his shoulder at the trembling image of Gwynn. She was afraid, that much was clear, but here she was still fighting. Here they all were, still fighting.

His head snapped back around to focus on the owl-bear, and suddenly the shield felt nearly weightless again. He raised it high above his head with his left arm and snapped it down, honing in again on the beak where he had struck before. He braced against the impact as the metallic clang resounded against the clack of the creature's beak straining beneath the force. Styvanus immediately followed with an uppercut from his off hand right under the owl-bear's gaping maw. Styvanus couldn't help but wince and wonder if the swing had hurt his knuckles more than it's target. Hopping back and landing on his heels, The Captain readied his shield.

Full Round Action: Brawler's Fury
>Shield Bash: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
>>If hit, Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
>Unarmed Strike: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
>>If hit, Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Lantern Lodge RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4

updating tomorrow. Haven't heard from Marc or Fenyx yet. Will be DMPCing Teladon.

Dark Archive

Male Chelish Human Fighter 1/Gunslinger 2/Guardian 1
Stats:
HP 39/39; AC 19, Flat Footed 17, Touch 12; CMD 19; Fort +8, Ref +4, Will +2; Perception +7; Initiative +3

Marcellano grins as he takes out one of the owlbears, noting his improved performance with this rifle over the musket that he still carries. Seeing that less than opportune targets remain, however, forces him to make choices. With Rasso, Styavnus, Ordrud, and the mink all engaging one of the crossbred beasts, he makes his choice rather easily.

"Oye, Fenyx, Gwynn, get your heads down, this one's going over them!"

Aiming his rifle, the line of fire coming awfully close to his allies' heads, Marcellano lines up a pair of shots right between the two. With confidence that he won't accidently shoot two of his allies in the back of their heads, he lets off a pair of shots in rapid succession at the owlbear currently receiving a bearhug from the elf.

The elf that Marcellano is still trying to remember the name of, despite having been told it mere minutes ago.
_____________________________________________
Marcellano:
Full Round Action: Full Attack, Mythic Rapid Shot (Two Attacks), Deadly Aim)
Shot #1 @ G16 Owlbear: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (9) + 5 - 1 = 13
>Damage if Hit: 1d10 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Shot #2 @ G16 Owlbear: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (9) + 5 - 1 = 13
>Damage if Hit: 1d10 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Did not provide penalties for shooting into melee or soft cover, subtract as needed.

Should my first shot take out the owlbear grappling Teladon, instead aim it at the one giving Rasso a bearhug.

I'm uh, getting low on bullets (4 shots remaining), so I might switch to my musket guys! Or see about wrecking face with Ye olde trusty Cutlass. I hate this snow q.q


Sin Mage (Gluttony) 3
Stats:
HP 22/22; AC 11, Flat Footed 10, Touch 11; CMD 11; Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +4; Perception +4; Initiative +1

Hoping to spare Teladon any further harm by way of the owlbear that continues to leverage its immense weight and strength against the elf, Fenyx withdraws the wand that has seen much use in the past couple of days. Extending the metal implement before him, he utters forcefully the words to summon what energies remained within—a dual blast of veridian energy capable of blasting away flesh and meat; cracking and bruising bone.

"Efulvati!"

As bidden, a pair of green orbs shimmer into being at the wand's tip before flying square into the owlbear's face, exploding violently into motes of energy where they impact the beast.

Yvonne continues struggling ineffectually against the thick snows that impede, the hilariously fastened snowshoes on the zombie's feet still helping little in the abomination's progress forward.

________________________________________

Taking out his wand of magic missile (now down to 5 charges) and letting it rip against our favorite Owlbear designation.

Move Action: Retrieve wand.
Standard Action: Activate wand.
> magic missile: 2d4 + 2 ⇒ (4, 1) + 2 = 7

Pretty sure everything will be long dead before Yvonne makes it to a target, but Yvonne is moving to L15.

Lantern Lodge RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4

While Rasso's claws rips through one bear, spilling blood down onto the snow in steaming streams, Styvanus' violent strikes with his shield finish the job that the summoner started. One of the final blows the Captain delivers sends a shuddering series of pops and cracks down the bear's body with meaty quality as its neck breaks and the creature lets out one grunt before collapsing into the snow.

At the same moment, Marcellano launches a volley of rifle rounds into the bear battling Teladon. The first shot hits under its right foreleg, leaving a blossom of blood in white fur. As the owlbear rears up on its hind legs in reaction, the second shot punches square into its chest and sends it toppling backwards to the ground with a plume of powdery snow from the impact.

Fenyx's bolts from his wand arc through the air, directed at the sole standing thread—the cavalry soldier—and unerringly strike their target, jostling him back with loud cracks of force. The Ulfen warrior raises his bow with a ragged exhalation of breath, staggering forward through the snow, blood visible in his beard as it trickles from his mouth. "Glory in the ever-ice hereafter!" The cavalryman shouts as he fires at arrow at Fenyx in return for the magical assault.

The arrow whizzes past Rasso, yet also flies wide of Fenyx, disappearing into the night with nary a whiff of noise at its passing. The Ulfen warrior exhales another wet breath, arms shaking from fatigue and pain, a seething ball of fire roiling behind him, casting his battered form in silhouette.

__________

Ulfen Cavalry
Move Action: 1 square east towards Fenyx
Standard Action: Ranged Attack @ Fenyx: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6 (miss)

Lantern Lodge RPG Superstar 2014 Top 4

The remaining owlbears are down, all that remains is the severely wounded Cavalry soldier. I redirected Fenyx's magic missile to that target.
 
Ordrud, Talavuc, and Ar'Z are up!


First levels: 2/4; THP:17/21; HP:43/43; MP:4/5
Stats:
HP:43 THP:21 / AC 17/21, T 11, FF 16 / Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +5 / Perception +2 / Initiative +3

Probably best to question him before we off him.

Liberty's Edge

Stats
Spoiler:
  • HP 25/25
  • AC 20( T: 12/ FF:16)
  • Fort + 4|Ref + 2|Will + 2
  • Init + 2
  • Perception +1
Rasso wrote:
Probably best to question him before we off him.

Indeed, let's take him alive if we can manage it.


Half-orc warrior | HP 72/72 | Bond 6/6 | LoH 5/5 | Smite 2/2 | 1st 2/2 | Ferocity 1/1 | AC 21 Touch 11 FF 20 CMD 20 | Fort +8 Ref +5 Will +7(+9) | Initiative +1 | Perception +6, Darkvision 60 ft.

Round 3

Ordrud's ineffectiveness feeds his raw fury, and he roars to vent. His tunnel vision refocuses on the remaining threat, so he closes. He ducks under the branches and hurries his snow-shoes to cut off the human's escape. Feyswatter is ready above his head in the Lastwall high guard position.
______________________
free action to maintain rage +4 Str, round 2 of 10
double move to G12. With a base 20 move, I think that's as far as he can get. Otherwise, Ordrud would go base to base.


Male Dwarf Cleric (Forge-Master) / 3 Mythic Guardian 1

Ar'Zarrcal trudged forward a few inches, but it was only to clear some of the snow away with his shield so that he might reload the crossbow he carried. Quickly setting the butt against the ground, he turned the crank and reloaded the weapon. With steam pouring from his open mouth, he cried out in Ulfen.

"Surrender or die. This will be your final chance." Even as he spoke those words he raised the crossbow, ready to fire should the Ulfen warrior do anything but surrender.

__________________________________
Move Action: Reload crossbow
Standard Action: Fire Crossbow at remaining Owlbear Cavalryman if he does not surrender.

Crossbow Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 4

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Ar'Zarrcal's threat does not deter the burly cavalryman from reaching for another arrow, even as Ordrud approaches with sword drawn. The fervor in his eyes and brutal relentlessness in spite of his serious injuries and severe outnumbering is testament to his loyalty. Ultimately, it is Ar'Zarrcal's crossbow that ends his fight; delivering the dwarf's threat into reality.

Just as Ordrud reaches the warrior, Ar'Zarrcal's crossbow bolt lands with a thunk in his midsection. The warrior lets out a gurgled groan of surprise and frustration, then doubles over and topples face-first into the snow. A moment later, Talavuc's sphere of flame collapses inwards on itself and disappears with a fiery pop. Naasvit bounds over to one bear, sniffing at it with fur still bristling on his back.
 
 
 
 
 
 
        [ ENCOUNTER RESOLVED | XP Award: 550xp Each Character ]
 
 
 
 
 
 

"Is he still alive?" Gwynn asks of the elven warrior, not the cavalryman. She snaps open the cylinder of her revolver, expelling spent shell casings into the snow, before slipping in new bullets with a nervous expression. "I'm getting short on ammo myself," she admits hesitantly.


Half-orc warrior | HP 72/72 | Bond 6/6 | LoH 5/5 | Smite 2/2 | 1st 2/2 | Ferocity 1/1 | AC 21 Touch 11 FF 20 CMD 20 | Fort +8 Ref +5 Will +7(+9) | Initiative +1 | Perception +6, Darkvision 60 ft.

Ordrud continues his momentum through the snow toward the downed warrior. Not landing a single strike in the combat that he had first heard grates on the orc, like a stolen kill in his hunt. The adrenaline bleeds from him like the the heavy exhaust of his breath. With Feyswatter in his spiked gauntlet, he rolls the cavalryman onto his back and checks for life and bleeding wounds.
_________________________
Heal: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
fatigued first of 4 rounds


First levels: 2/4; THP:17/21; HP:43/43; MP:4/5
Stats:
HP:43 THP:21 / AC 17/21, T 11, FF 16 / Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +5 / Perception +2 / Initiative +3

Rasso casts a spell of healing on his eidolon suit, trying to repair the damage that the bugbear did to his claw. He mutters briefly to himself for a few moments and then touches the shattered chitin over the wound.

Rejuvenate Eidolon: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

A little more than half the crushed shell knits itself back together under the power of Rasso's spell. Bloody birdbears, Rasso thinks, flexing the damaged limb.


Sin Mage (Gluttony) 3
Stats:
HP 22/22; AC 11, Flat Footed 10, Touch 11; CMD 11; Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +4; Perception +4; Initiative +1

Fenyx maintains a silent vigil as investigative efforts turn towards the fallen elf and bear cavalryman. He considers the slain forms of the three immense creatures they managed to overcome and is forced to admit how considerable their collective strength has become for such an obstacle to approach so near to the realm of triviality. While not a common sight in general, the appearance of a clutch of arctic owlbears is a rare treat. The material corner of his mind wonders at what value the pelts of these beasts might be worth, while the rest is dominated by considerations of what applications various parts of the owlbears might have as reagents and foci for various spells and dweomers.

Not wishing to waste the opportunity afforded him, he begins culling the creatures as the rest of their number begin tending to the fallen foe and possible elven ally. As he concludes the grisly affair, he remarks aloud to any willing to listen, "There is great worth in hides such as these if we've the time and a skilled hand. Given the injuries of our guests, setting camp nearby might not be so terrible an idea."

Knowledge (Arcana): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31 Oh, ffs

Collecting a bit of blood, choice pristine feathers, and large talons.

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As Ordrud checks the Ulfen warrior's wounds—grievous as they may be—he soon notices the steam of breath still issuing up from his nose and mouth. He is barely alive and blood is steadily pumping out of the crossbow wound he has taken. While he is alive now, he will not be alive for much longer.

Meanwhile, Teladon trudges through the snow over to the fallen elven warrior, taking a knee at his side. Gloved fingers brush over the blonde elf's armor, then along a cut at his cheek and neck. "His wounds are serious, but he will live." Looking up to Talavuc, Teladon motions for her to approach, though it is clear that the elf notices something has changed about her, though he isn't quite sure what.

"I'm not sure about camping here," Gwynn notes warily, looking to the portal and the surrounding tundra. "There's nowhere to take shelter, and we're right out in the open if another one of these patrols comes along. Didn't Ordrud spot a village or something?"

"I saw it too," Talavuc confirms to Gwynn as she arrives at the fallen elven warrior. "I'm not sure how large of a settlement it is, or how friendly it will be."

Gwynn looks down to the ground, then back to the druid. "I grew up in an Irriseni border town on the edge of Varisia, until my folks decided to pick up stakes and move south." The blonde threads a lock of hair behind one ear, dark eyes staring out at the horizon. "It wasn't... a bad place. Don't know how far that is away from wherever we ended up, though."

Then, considering the two injured individuals, Gwynn asks, "What should we do with them? We know the cavalryman isn't going to be friendly if we wake him up, but—I'm not sure the elf will be either."

Teladon looks up at Gwynn, slowly.

How many of his kind are even left in the world? The gunslinger wonders to herself, meeting Teladon's intense stare. She shifts, awkwardly, then says nothing.

______

GM Rolls:

Cavalry Stabilization Roll: 1d20 + 2 - 8 ⇒ (12) + 2 - 8 = 6


Male Grey Elf (Fey) Magus 3/Champion/Archmage 1 AC 16/12/14/ HP 30/30 / F +5 R +3 W +3 (+9 vs cold weather) / Init. +2 / Perc. +9 / Mythic 3/5)

Staring down at the unconscious figure of the elf, Teladon studies the man. Once we were each like a leave of a tree, and each tree one of a forest. Now.. now we are like the last handful remaining on the wind. The elf things, watching the other man breath in and out softly. As if in response to his though another leave falls from the elf's cloak and swirls around him before being caught in the wind and carried off into the darkness. Sighing, Teladon begins to let his shoulders slump, before straightening his back and standing tall. The elf lives. He was attacked by our foes. The enemy of our enemy. As they say.

Glancing towards the other man who rode an owlbear, Teladons lip turns downwards in distaste. We need information. This one likely possesses it. We take what we need and leave him to the ravens. Crossing his arms in finality, Teladon feels a surge inside of himself. It is not of him but it resides inside of him. It is.. pleasure...

Scowling a puff of air streams from the elfs mask. He took no pleasure at the kill. But In the last hour he had felt things.. strange things enwrap and enfold him. He shuttered. It felt alien and cold. Like a second unspoken mind. There was power there, surging and flooding, but Teladon knew that no power was freely given. Everything had a price.


First levels: 2/4; THP:17/21; HP:43/43; MP:4/5
Stats:
HP:43 THP:21 / AC 17/21, T 11, FF 16 / Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +5 / Perception +2 / Initiative +3

"We ought ter at least take a peek at the village," Rasso agrees with some of the others. "As for these two, let the Ulfen die and take the elf with us. I'm not goin' ter waste magical energy healin' a pointy eared stranger, but Telly here's right, he might know something when he wakes up."

While the others weigh in, Rasso casts a spell to detect magic and makes sure that the rider wasn't carrying anything magical or of value. Anything that could be remotely useful he gathers to show everyone.


Half-orc warrior | HP 72/72 | Bond 6/6 | LoH 5/5 | Smite 2/2 | 1st 2/2 | Ferocity 1/1 | AC 21 Touch 11 FF 20 CMD 20 | Fort +8 Ref +5 Will +7(+9) | Initiative +1 | Perception +6, Darkvision 60 ft.

Ordrud continues to staunch the bleeding of the Ulfen. He grunts at Rasso's comments, and says, "Teladon is right." He starts with the elf's newly revealed name to get their attention. "We don't know where we are. We need to interrogate both of these warriors to understand what's going on here. If they need to die, it would be better to leave them here with the owlbears. It would appear more natural. We certainly don't want to bring them to the village just to execute them. Too many witnesses and potential for problems. They both could have friends at the village who would want revenge."
___________________________________
Heal: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Fatigued round 2 of 4


Female Human (erutaki) Druid (arctic) 3 / Guardian/Hierophant 1

"If we are to go to the village, then it would be best to heal the stranger more likely to be friendly to us," she looks to Rasso as she speaks. "The villagers will ask questions if we carry an unconscious person into their midst." She reaches down to scratch the top of Naasvit's head, feeling the slight difference in height as the snow holds her upon its surface.

The pounding in her head slowly subsides as time passes, but the fog that came with it persists. She glances down at her late husband's wayfinder, feeling something different about the object, but still not quite sure what to make of it. Why had the magic struck again? Did Baba Yaga really will such a thing? The questions brought a twinge of pain and she shook a bit from it, drawing comforting nuzzle from her long-time friend.


Male Dwarf Cleric (Forge-Master) / 3 Mythic Guardian 1

"We are in hostile lands. More hostile than those we had just crossed over from. Many of the enemies that we faced on the other side of the gate fled to these lands, what makes any of you think that this village will be favorably disposed to us?" The dwarf asked with an upraised eyebrow that had grown hard and covered with frost. His hand worked at turning the crank to re-load the crossbow he had used to end the threat of the last of their adversaries.

A wary look was given to the elf that they had intervened on behalf of. He did not know whether the elf was truly an ally or whether they had merely brought another burden down upon them. "Perhaps it would be wiser to send a scout ahead to investigate the village? They.. " Ar'Zarrcal gestured with his head toward the body of the Owlbear Cavalryman. ".. spoke the Ulfen language. Someone who knows it would be the best candidate for a scout. Who else speaks the language?" He certainly wasn't recommending himself for a scouting mission as he knew that he didn't exactly blend into the background.

Dark Archive

Male Chelish Human Fighter 1/Gunslinger 2/Guardian 1
Stats:
HP 39/39; AC 19, Flat Footed 17, Touch 12; CMD 19; Fort +8, Ref +4, Will +2; Perception +7; Initiative +3

"Might I add," Marcellano clears his throat as he stows his rifle and pulls out his less-than-trusty musket, "That walking into a village with members of the group as.. unique looking as a few of us are might be a bad idea as well?" He motions with his free hand, gesturing particularly in the direction of Rasso, but also towards Teladon and himself as well. "We have in our midst a rather odd collection of appearances. That in itself might cause a stir - or, at the very least, we'll be noticed by those we might not wish to be noticed by."

He grunts as he finds his altered body hard to move in - though he may appear as cold and dead as Fenyx's servant Yvonne, it is apparent to the group that he is still very much alive - and he seems to be doing his best to ignore the changes to his physique, not letting his new handicap bother him.

"As much as I hate the idea of it, perhaps we should try to find cover and camp out until we can question the elf. Perhaps after, then we can see about investigating the town."


Sin Mage (Gluttony) 3
Stats:
HP 22/22; AC 11, Flat Footed 10, Touch 11; CMD 11; Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +4; Perception +4; Initiative +1

Fenyx tucks away an immense talon in the confines of his pack before rising from his crouch to survey what little of the area his still-human eyes can glean. The pair of orbs ultimately settle on the form of the fallen elf. Rejoining the ongoing debate, Fenyx gestures towards his limp form with an outstretched finger.

"I find it unlikely that one such as he is here alone. Bring him around and get some answers. If he belongs to a number, perhaps they will offer sanctuary for returning him still breathing. More importantly, maybe he can at least tell us where here is. Certainly we have some graces to avail an enemy of our enemy? A draught or supplication to mend his wounds enough to afford us answers."

The warmth of a village seems tempting, but Fenyx knows it to be foolish. Marcellano is, of course, correct. One look at them, even if neutral, would send peasantry scattering to the local guard. Best to assess the situation before taking action and then calculate a response accordingly. Some small means of shelter would perhaps be of great benefit in the interim.

"Are there no outcroppings or ravines that we might shelter in anywhere in the vicinity? I don't fancy the notion of remaining here overlong, either. And what of tracks? Might we determine which direction yielded the elf and rider's arrival here?"


First levels: 2/4; THP:17/21; HP:43/43; MP:4/5
Stats:
HP:43 THP:21 / AC 17/21, T 11, FF 16 / Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +5 / Perception +2 / Initiative +3

Motioning back to Marcellano, Rasso says, "Look who's talking, ice-man!" Rasso seems perplexed by Marc's transformation, but it's not as strange as some things that have happened to them today.

"Aint it likely that the peasants of the village are a'slaved by their leaders just like dem men back in Andoran were? There may be a few bad eggs, but I'm sure most people won't want ter f&@~ with us. A few might even want ter help us kill the bastards in charge around here, or lead us ter the tower." The crustacean bear scratches his chin for a second before continuing. "Fenyx is right, we need ter check fer tracks."


Male Dwarf Cleric (Forge-Master) / 3 Mythic Guardian 1

"The alterations, both physical and spiritual, that many of you have undergone in this last hour has me concerned. We do not yet know how deep the magic runs or how thoroughly you... we... have been altered." Ar'Zarrcal thought now a good enough time than any to reveal his hesitation. While it was true that he too had absorbed much of the mythic energy that the Fey Rider had bestowed upon his passing, he seemed at least outwardly little changed.

He looked to Fenyx for a moment and then to the Ice encrusted form that was Marcellano. The Cheliaxian seemed to be handling the transformation well, though it might also just be presenting a brave face. Such a change has likely wreaked terror on the human's more natural functions.

Placing a hand over his brow Ar'Zarrcal searched the horizon for any place that might be a suitable cover to rest and recover. Tracking he would leave to those more skilled in the snow like Tavaluc.

______________________________
Not sure which is needed for finding shelter

Survival: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16


Half-orc warrior | HP 72/72 | Bond 6/6 | LoH 5/5 | Smite 2/2 | 1st 2/2 | Ferocity 1/1 | AC 21 Touch 11 FF 20 CMD 20 | Fort +8 Ref +5 Will +7(+9) | Initiative +1 | Perception +6, Darkvision 60 ft.

With the Ulfen stabilized, Ordrud gets up and says, "I'll do a circuit around us. Try to see where the tracks came from."

Keeping the team in sight, Ordrud trudges around the combat looking for tracks. He wants to determine how the combat happened. Was it a chase, an ambush, or what?
___________________________________
Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Perception take 20+6=26

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As the group hunkers down in the snowfield adjacent to the portal, Ar'Zarrcal begins scouting around for signs of suitable places to make shelter. As he surveys the area, utilizing his darkvision to see beyond what light the portal sheds across the snow, he sees little in the way of structures or geological features beneficial to the party. The surrounding terrain is a vast expanse of rolling hills, windswept and snow-covered. The winter portal rises out of the top of the highest point on the land, while to the northeast the only signs of civilization are distant lights in the darkness.

As he is searching the terrain, the clouds overhead part some, revealing the silvery moon casting its pale light down on the land and revealing much more of the countryside than had been seen before. The region is barren of features save for sparse tree cover. Miles to the west is an absolutely enormous mountain range disappearing up into rolling banks of clouds. To the east, the moonlight now reflects off of a glittering river that cuts north and south across the snowy tundra.

There is literally nothing for miles in every direction, save for the winter portal and the village on the river. Furthermore, there is no terrain to seek shelter within. The trees are small and thin, perhaps enough of them to make a lean-to, but that would take an hour or more to accomplish.

While Ar'Zarrcal checks the terrain out, Ordrud is attempting to discern the nature of the tracks. The deep snow makes for easy following of the tracks, though the strong wind whipping outward from the winter portal is covering the older ones. Ordrud is able to follow the bear cavalryman's tracks north about a quarter mile before they fade away entirely. Even from here, with the moonlight aiding in sight, there's no sign of a structure he could have come from. Thankfully, it also looks like he was traveling alone. It also appears that his destination was the winter portal, and that he was waylaid by an apparent ambush.

The tracks from the elven man circle around the site of the battle. It appears he had been lying in wait within the trees, judging from the snapped branches and pine needles snagged in the elven man's clothing. His tracks run to the south, but then sharply hook northeast before fading away. Ordrud assesses that he was likely coming from the village, but took a wide route so as to hide his tracks some.

Gwynn begins searching the elven man, checking his pockets and a satchel he carries. While there's a few stoppered bottles and tonics, she isn't sure exactly what to make of them and leaves them in his possession. A tattered map, however, gets the eagle knight's attention. "Hey, take a look at this," she notes, wagging the map around in one hand before rolling it out on the snow where she crouches.

Tracing a gloved finger out over the map, Gwynn points out the mountains on it, then looks over to the west where the shadow of an enormous range rises. She then tracks the river on the map to the one to the east. "This is where we are, it looks like a regional map of an Irriseni province. It's... I'm not sure where this lies in relation to where I grew up. None of the names sound familiar."

Looking up to the others, she wonders aloud, "Is anyone better with geography?"

________________
In searching the elven scout, Gwynn uncovered a map of the region.
 
A knowledge (geography) check DC 15 can tell you where this province lies in relation to the rest of the world. A DC 15 knowledge (local) check can help you identify information about a specific site on the map.
 
A DC 20 knowledge (geography) check can pinpoint your approximate location on the map. This DC drops to 15 with the aid of a wayfinder.

A knowledge (nobility) check DC 12 or (local) DC 14 can identify the province's ruler (as shown on the link). A knowledge (local) check DC 13 can identify the other information listed on the link as well.

Dark Archive

Male Chelish Human Fighter 1/Gunslinger 2/Guardian 1
Stats:
HP 39/39; AC 19, Flat Footed 17, Touch 12; CMD 19; Fort +8, Ref +4, Will +2; Perception +7; Initiative +3

Upon hearing news of a map, Marcellano trudges through the snow over to Gwynn, who stands looking confused at the map. "Let me see it - navigation was something we learned in the Navy, and I might be able to figure it out." Barely waiting for Gwynn to hand it to him before he snatches it out of her hands, Marcellano takes a look at the map, turning it around a few times and looking around at the group's surroundings. He doesn't appear to get the gist of where they are, however.

Not willing to give up and make himself look bad at his failed attempt, he looks closer at the map and appears to enter some sort of trance, staring almost blankly at the piece of paper in his gauntlets. A moment later, he snaps out of it and shakes his head, as if to clear it.

"Ah, there we go!"
_____________________________________

To determine where the province lies in relation to the rest of the world:
Marcellano's Knowledge(Geography): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11 (Failure)

To determine our approximate location:
Marcellano's Knowledge(Geography): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Mythic Surge: 1d6 ⇒ 5(Makes it a success, because damn it, I want to know where in this frozen hell we are :P)

Mythic Power Remaining: 4/5

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