Talanor, the Bright Tower

Game Master Valjoen_KC

Current Date: 8th of Dasyris, 7995 E.C.

Current Battle Map

Arrington's Map

Campaign Spreadsheet

Cast of Characters

Tacal's Stats


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Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Then he should not be evil and smite-able by the Sacred Mother. But, no joke, I'm sure that thing would destroy us without this debuff.

The twins redouble their assault.

Truk'tosh swings his axe twice in two punishing arcs.

Raging, Inspired, Studied: Axe to the face!: 1d20 + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 20
Damage: 1d8 + 6 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 6 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 11

Raging, Inspired, Studied: Axe to the face!: 1d20 + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 26
Damage: 1d8 + 6 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 12

"Brother, we must send it back to the spirit world while the light still blinds it."

Snowball: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 6 + 1 = 18
Damage: 5d6 + 5 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (2, 1, 4, 4, 5) + 5 + 5 + 1 = 27


HP 56/98 Panache 6/7 Stamina 4/10 | AC 28/18/20); 26/18/18 w/composite bow | energy resist: 2 negative, 5 fire | CMD 30 | Fort +6 Ref +13 Will +5 | Per +16, Darkvision 60 ft. | Init +7 (+9 w/swashbuckler initiative);
Class and Skills:
Swashbuckler (Inspired Blade) 8/Fighter (Lore Warden) 2 | Acro +20, Bluff +10 Climb +8, Inti +16, Stea +15
Combat:
30 ft. (30 ft.) | Melee +19/+14 (+21/+16 vs. undead) (+2 bane rapier) Ranged +15 (dagger) Ranged +16/+11 (mwk composite shortbow) CMB +12; weapon cord attached: Yes (rapier)

Will Save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
In case that's needed to stave off the laughter's effects.

Steeling his nerve against the unwholesome laughter echoing from the chamber's walls, Garidan swiftly approaches their foe, rapier at the ready, even as the half-orcs abuse it further still in their respective manners. The moment the swashbuckler enters his arm's reach, the blade darts forward into the insubstantial undead form, the magic imbuing it allow the weapon to strike with effect. Still, though the blow is true, Garidan can tell that it did little actual damage, much to his visible displeasure. "Getting quite tired of this," he mutters mostly to himself as he pulls the blade back for another attack. "First that stupid pile of armored bones, and now this abomination also manages to somehow reduce my best attacks to mere slaps."

Move action to move two squares diagonally down-right, two squares right, and one square diagonally down-right. Standard action to attack with the rapier, using Power Attack, Malthazir's bardic stylings, and a flanking bonus.

Rapier Attack: 1d20 + 12 + 2 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (16) + 12 + 2 + 1 - 2 = 29
Rapier Damage: 1d8 + 5 + 2d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 5 + (2, 3) + 4 + 1 = 16


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GM Screen:
G_Bite: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (4) + 14 = 18
TrukConceal50: 1d100 ⇒ 11
ConDam: 1d4 ⇒ 3
NegEnergy: 1d6 ⇒ 5

I'm not certain it would destroy you but it would be a tight finish... however, blinded, it's at a distinct disadvantage.

Another wave of attacks from the twins crashes down upon the geist as the swashbuckler enters the battle landing a piercing blow to the undead creature.

Biting nothing but air, the geist claws at its own eyes and backs away.

@Malthazir - Let me know if you want to retcon any actions, otherwise I'll assume you're delaying.

The Guardian and the Tomb - Round 16

Malthazir (30/30, Invisible, Levitating) <-- UP
Niyut (28/28, Blur, Mirror Images 5/5) <-- UP
Truk'tosh (47/47, Shield of Faith) <-- UP
Gruskorb (stable at -1)
Garidan (34/34, Shield of Faith) <-- UP
Geist (-88, blind: rd 3/4)

Status Effects: None


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

It is withdrawing? Where does it move on the map?

Truk'tosh pursues the vile shade, swinging his axe in a rage.

Raging, Inspired, Studied: Axe to the face!: 1d20 + 11 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 11 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 18
Damage: 1d8 + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 14

Niyut continues to channel power through her mother's wand.

Snowball: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 6 + 1 = 18
Damage: 5d6 + 5 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (6, 2, 5, 4, 6) + 5 + 5 + 1 = 34

She feels the wand warm in her hand as if the icy power within it is no more.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

If it wasn't withdrawing, would it provoke?


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It took a 5' step to get out of flank. Didn't provoke.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Oh, okay! Thanks! Truk'tosh will full attack.

Raging, Inspired, Studied: Axe to the face!: 1d20 + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 18
Damage: 1d8 + 6 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 6 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 13

Raging, Inspired, Studied: Axe to the face!: 1d20 + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 9 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 16
Damage: 1d8 + 6 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 12


HP 56/98 Panache 6/7 Stamina 4/10 | AC 28/18/20); 26/18/18 w/composite bow | energy resist: 2 negative, 5 fire | CMD 30 | Fort +6 Ref +13 Will +5 | Per +16, Darkvision 60 ft. | Init +7 (+9 w/swashbuckler initiative);
Class and Skills:
Swashbuckler (Inspired Blade) 8/Fighter (Lore Warden) 2 | Acro +20, Bluff +10 Climb +8, Inti +16, Stea +15
Combat:
30 ft. (30 ft.) | Melee +19/+14 (+21/+16 vs. undead) (+2 bane rapier) Ranged +15 (dagger) Ranged +16/+11 (mwk composite shortbow) CMB +12; weapon cord attached: Yes (rapier)

As the creature tries in vain to get some respite from the attacks hammering it much like a training dummy, Garidan is swift to pursue, his rapier darting out to catch the insubstantial form a second time. This attack is definitely better than his previous thrust, and had the creature any discernable internals, a number of them would have just been neatly--and quite agonizingly--punctured by his blade's razor-edged tip.

5-foot step one square in which ever direction needed to maintain attack range, and hopefully flank as well. Standard action to attack.
Rapier Attack: 1d20 + 12 + 2 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 12 + 2 + 1 - 2 = 33
Rapier Damage: 1d8 + 5 + 2d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 5 + (5, 3) + 4 + 1 = 24


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GM Screen:
LE60: 1d100 ⇒ 90
EE92: 6d100 ⇒ (60, 55, 35, 12, 9, 76) = 247

Following a viscous display of weaponry from Truk'tosh and Garidan, Niyut dispatches the geist in a icy explosion with a final blast from the mysterious bog oak wand. In the aftermath of its destruction, six glowing orbs of ethereal essence coalesce where the creature once stood.

COMBAT OVER

Ouch, very anti-climatic... never ever laid a hand on anyone in that final encounter. It all turned on one failed save. Well done.

With a booming crack, the seal to the tomb can be heard opening. Truk'tosh and Garidan stand shoulder to shoulder and push the cover from the tomb while Malthazir and Niyut help Gruskorb recover consciousness. Pearing into the tomb, you see the dusty remains of a small gnome. Resting atop the corpse is a darkwood staff adorned with a silver claw holding a human-sized skull with a large emerald wedged into the opening of its mouth. A faint glow pulsates within the gemstone.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Niyut peers across the veil between the world of flesh and the world of spirit. She aches to pick up the staff. She longs to feel the crackle of power humming through her skin. She also has no desire to be cursed or fried to a crisp because she overlooked one final ward.

Perception (for traps): 1d20 + 16 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 16 + 2 = 20
Spell Craft: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (10) + 16 = 26

If she sees nothing amiss, Niyut will pick up the staff.


Male Half-Orc Druid 8/Cleric 1 | HP: 116/116 l AC: 26 (30 with buffs, 32 vs the first 3 attacks per round) /T: 12/FF: 24 l Fort: +15*, Ref: +5*, W: +14* l Init: +0 l Per: +15; Low-light vision l Movement: 30 *Hardy: Gain +2 racial bonus on saving throws against poison, spells, and spell-like abilities *Familiar:51/51

People with sneak attack love wailing on blinded targets! How could you forget it Niyut?!

Truk'tosh wipes the rotted bits of geist from Morgrym's axe as his twin searches for any hidden last defenses on the tomb. He gives Garidan a brief nod of acknowledgement and then looks to Niyut for confirmation that the staff is unwarded.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Incorporeal creatures are immune to precision damage?


HP 56/98 Panache 6/7 Stamina 4/10 | AC 28/18/20); 26/18/18 w/composite bow | energy resist: 2 negative, 5 fire | CMD 30 | Fort +6 Ref +13 Will +5 | Per +16, Darkvision 60 ft. | Init +7 (+9 w/swashbuckler initiative);
Class and Skills:
Swashbuckler (Inspired Blade) 8/Fighter (Lore Warden) 2 | Acro +20, Bluff +10 Climb +8, Inti +16, Stea +15
Combat:
30 ft. (30 ft.) | Melee +19/+14 (+21/+16 vs. undead) (+2 bane rapier) Ranged +15 (dagger) Ranged +16/+11 (mwk composite shortbow) CMB +12; weapon cord attached: Yes (rapier)

After sheathing his weapon and aiding in the breaching of the tomb, Garidan takes a quick look at the object of their lengthy search, one eyebrow raising in a surprised expression. "How odd," he comments as Niyut carefully looks the tomb's interior over. "I'm utterly certain that I've seen that staff before, and quite recently too. Can't recall where, or precisely when, however." His expression turning to a thoughtful frown, he struggles to recall the vague details, only to have his line of thought disrupted with no warning.

Having taken possession of a pair essence crystals from the remains of the geist, Garidan initially paid them little heed before tucking them into one of the pouches on his swordbelt. That inattention is quickly discarded as the pouch begins to shudder and jump violently, light flaring from within brightly enough to be seen through the leather. Opening the pouch, Garidan is shocked to see that two of essences, one from the recently-slain geist and another claimed from the earlier battle with the bone golems, are battering each other relentlessly. This unusual fight is brought to a swift conclusion as the golem essence suddenly engulfs the other, swelling in size to accomdate its... well, Garidan isn't quite sure what term to use. Meal? Foe? Whatever word is most applicable, the enlarged essence soon returns to its formet size, with only faint swirls of color from the geist essence marking its surface to show that the latter ever existed.

With a nervous swallow, Garidan cautiously removes the golem essence, intending to ask the party's two experts just that was all about. Before he can do more than open his mouth, the essence twitches out of his hand, then serenely floats to the sheath at his hip, where it vanishes in a brief flare of light upon making contact with his rapier's hilt. Frowning at the weapon, the swashbuckler grunts in annoyance. "These essences act nothing at all like what I've read about. I wonder if the Rift has something to do with that?" With a shake of his head, he turns his eyes to the pouch once more, a suspicious expression appearing as he examines the remaining geist essence. Withdrawing it for a closer look, he has just enough time for a startled yell when the essence rips itself from his fingers and embeds itself in his forehead, quickly sinking out sight behind skin and bone with not even a scratch left in its wake.

Shddeering, Garidan grips his head in both hands for a long moment, only a pained whimper leaving his mouth. Then, after a deep breath, he blinks and releases his head. "That's new," he says in confused tone of voice. "I suddenly know the exact materials, in the precise proporitions, required to make alchemical fire. And I also the exact recipe for turning a troll's blood into a potent regenerative compound. Why do I know these things," the swashbuckler asks, the question directed toward nobody in particular.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

"Magic. Likely, a wizard did it."


Male Half-Orc Druid 8/Cleric 1 | HP: 116/116 l AC: 26 (30 with buffs, 32 vs the first 3 attacks per round) /T: 12/FF: 24 l Fort: +15*, Ref: +5*, W: +14* l Init: +0 l Per: +15; Low-light vision l Movement: 30 *Hardy: Gain +2 racial bonus on saving throws against poison, spells, and spell-like abilities *Familiar:51/51

Oh, I missed that this thing was incorporeal.

Truk'tosh collects one of the crystallized essences extracted by his sister and Malthazir from the destroyed undead.


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Seeing no traps about the staff to alarm her, Niyut reaches down and lifts the staff from its resting place upon the small decayed corpse. She can instantly feel the necrotic energy coursing through the staff. She knows all to well that it can be used to command undead and possibly even to raise undead although that sensation is quite disturbing to the oracle. At last, she feels another form of energy swirling about within the staff... conjuration. It was clear immediately that this conjuration essence was not of the summoning nature as she had seen Malthazir wield quite often in the past weeks. This was altogether different. It was a strange feeling to Niyut, as if this energy wanted to lift her spirit and carry it away. Teleportation... that was it, but the destination was fixed. The wielder of this staff would always be transported to the same place... somewhere close by. Somewhere within the tower.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Spell Craft: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (15) + 19 = 34

Niyut's senses plunge into the magic that permeates the staff. She seeks to untangle how to control its power. Once she thinks she can control it, she accesses its teleportation magic to take them to where it is keyed.

Are there command words? Can I get a list of its abilites?


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The staff contains several charges of animate dead and command undead. There is also an AoE effect of command undead that is more powerful than you could cast. The staff also functions as a rod of quickening for necromancy spells only up to level 6. Finally the gem set in its mouth contains the "key" to the tower similar to the one held by Sivantanpisil. It will unlock the tower and all of its levels. It can teleport an individual or and any willing creature that you are touching to the observation chamber atop the tower. You are able to figure out the command word for the effects you can use.

Understanding the portal key of the staff, Niyut gathers the group. She places her hand upon Tacal and everyone else reaches out to take a hold of the oracle. In a blinding flash, the group is teleported to large circular chamber made of dark granite. The vaulted chamber is nearly one hundred feet in diameter and has several doorways leading out to small balconies looking out in all directions. The room is dark and gloomy with low-burning torches set throughout the room along the walls. Several disheveled bookcases line the walls between the opening to the balconies. A large wooden desk sits not far from the norther wall. Several large candles glow brightly upon the desk. A large tome stands open on the desk. In the center of the chamber, a summoning circle made of silver is carved into the floor. It is quite similar to the one in Talanor in which the vortex still rages.

Along the south wall a staircase descends to a lower level and a spiral staircase made of ornate metal winds up and through the ceiling. Through the opening above, flashes of lights and loud explosions suggest a battle rages high above the tower. With a might blast, the entire room shudders. Tacal lets out a moan, clearly distressed. A figure emerges from the roof and scampers down the spiral staircase. When he is half-way down, he leaps over the rail and floats down to the floor. Pulling back his hood, you see the Hazard of the tower, Sivantanpisil.


"I see you have been successful in recovering Stoorjian's staff! I wish I could say my battle has gone as well. The city has been destroyed although I was able to save some of the inhabitants. Little hope is left here. I shall do as you request and join Baerwynnd in Talanor. I would ask you to travel further, however... to Haemil and find Rhykal the Hazard of Conjuration. She can restore the teleportation circles between the towers. I believe it may be the only hope for you to reach all of them in time to aid Baerwynnd and save our world from destruction."

He bows and extends a hand toward Niyut asking for the staff. "To be honest, I was not entirely convinced of its existence within the catacombs build by Stoorjian. I, myself, never ventured there. He was a dark and terrible master of the tower in his days. The way was surely dangerous, and I thank you for your courage. I shall take the staff and aid Baerwynnd. But presently, how may I aid you?"


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

"I'm glad you survived. I'm curious. Why are there there two gems, the ruby and the emerald?"

Niyut pauses as the Hazard's request sinks into her thoughts. "Well, we need to rest and to study. Malthazir could likely make use of your library. Garidan can tell you the state of our stores. Will we need to walk to Haemil or can you send us there through your arts? If we are walking, we need a new wagon. I have a few questions about essences, if you have the time."

She is hesitant as she hands the staff to Sivatanpisil. That hunger, whose whispers were slowly becoming a howl, desired the staff for herself. But she would not be mastered by it, and extends the staff in gift.


HP 56/98 Panache 6/7 Stamina 4/10 | AC 28/18/20); 26/18/18 w/composite bow | energy resist: 2 negative, 5 fire | CMD 30 | Fort +6 Ref +13 Will +5 | Per +16, Darkvision 60 ft. | Init +7 (+9 w/swashbuckler initiative);
Class and Skills:
Swashbuckler (Inspired Blade) 8/Fighter (Lore Warden) 2 | Acro +20, Bluff +10 Climb +8, Inti +16, Stea +15
Combat:
30 ft. (30 ft.) | Melee +19/+14 (+21/+16 vs. undead) (+2 bane rapier) Ranged +15 (dagger) Ranged +16/+11 (mwk composite shortbow) CMB +12; weapon cord attached: Yes (rapier)

Blinking rapidly to clear the disorientation from the sudden shift in location, Garidan responds to the room's violent shaking with a wary look and a hand on his rapier. When nothing follows the Hazard of Necromancy down the stairs, however, he relaxes a touch and wanders from the group to one of the balconies for a look outside. Though he knows there's likely little that he'll want to see out there, particularly in light of Siv's report on the ruined city's fate, the swashbuckler is heartily tired of the tower's interior at the moment. Furthermore, he wants a few moments of solitude to get accustomed to new knowledge settling into his mind, a process which is accompanied by a mild headache and faint nausea.

Eventually, he returns to the others and begins sorting through the supplies loaded onto Tacal's back, mentally cataloguing what they have and what they need more of. Coming across the battered breastplate recovered from the !owest level, he inspects it closely before setting it aside. Approaching the Hazard, Garidan clears his throat to get his attention. "As far as stores, we're pretty well supplied on the essentials. However, we could do with some restorative potions, if you have any on hand to spare. Further, if you have any ready-made alchemical compounds available, I wouldn't mind the chance to claim some for our use." A thoughtful expression appearing on his face, Garidan continues. "Although, I unexpectedly find myself in a position to manage that bit on my own, if you've got the necessary tools and raw materials to spare." His thoughful expression then shifts to one of faint embarassment. "Finally, and I realize the irony in making this request of you, of all people, if you somehow have a way to supply us with blessed water, we really need a good supply of that. It's been quite helpful, and the supply we gained back in Eastgate is nearly gone."

Turning away, Garidan pauses in midstep as he spots the mithril armor, the sight reminding him of his intentions with it. Turning back to the Hazard, he asks another question. "Ah, I don't suppose you happen to have any metalworking capacity in this tower of yours? Because there's a bit of work I need to do before we set out." While making his request, Garidan mulls over alternatives should the answer prove negative, and he quickly settles on Gruskorb as the best prospect in that case.


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"Yes, rest for all of us would be welcome. I have destroyed any creatures here that would be able to penetrate this tower. However, the grounds surrounding us are not safe for travel. Let us sleep here for a while and regain our strength together. I can teleport you quite a ways toward Haemil. To the far edges of the Kragenwood my powers can reach. That should make your journey that much faster."

The spirit in Gruskorb stirs at the mention of his homeland. Taking the staff in hand, Sivantanpisil regards it closely. "Yes, indeed, this is his staff. It's emerald key was the first of its kind for this tower. When my master reclaimed the tower from ruin, he had worked with the other Hazards to reforge a new key. This one," he says as he pulls the large red gem key from the pocket of his robe.

"I have no wagon to provide you, but I do have provisions that you may scour." Turning to Malthazir, "My library is yours to review, master wizard. Although, you will find it only filled with spells of a necrotic nature. If you ever get back this way, I give to you a key to this tower, feel free to come a read from my library as you will... or take refuge here if you need," the Hazard says as he hands Malthazir the Ruby Key. "The key will open the front door and allow you enter into any floor within the tower that you wish. It will also grant you entrance through the doorway from the top of the tower," the large hobgoblin says as he points to the spiral staircase leading up.

@Malthazir - You can find any 1st through 3rd level necromancy spell in his library. You have a 75% for any 4th through 6th level spell and a 50% chance for anything 7th or beyond. Between read magic and Siv, you can decipher any spell you find. You won't have time to scribe many of them and get sleep enough to regain your spells. You can scribe 3 necro spells now and take 9 necro spells for free and scribe them over the next three rest sessions. I believe you auto succeed any spellcraft checks for inscribing at this point.

"Now... young lady. What other questions do you have?" Siv walks over to the desk and pinches the flame from one of the candles. Holding the flame in his right palm, he throws it towards an unnoticed fireplace, igniting it in a brilliant fashion. The Hazard then steps forward and takes a seat in a plush chair by the fire.

Later with Garidan...

The swashbuckler walks out on to the balcony looking back over Pyrae. Worse than before, the entire city is engulfed in flames. Pockets of lumbering humanoids walk the streets aimlessly. Looking down, he sees the skeletal form of a large winged creature lying destroyed on the ground. With a gust of wind reminding him of the tower's height, he gulps down a little bit of acid that had risen to his mouth. Regaining his composure, Garidan steps back inside to question the Hazard.

"I'm not an alchemist by nature but we do have a small supply. Two floors below this level is... well, was my apprentice's rooms. A large open archway from the main hallway should lead you to his workshop. Take whatever you wish, but please be careful," he says with a smile making an explosion gesture with his hands. "Unlikely you'll find holy water... doesn't mix well with our magic. As for metal working, there is a forge on the first level if you want to walk all that way.
"


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Poor Malthazir. Necromancy is one of his oppositional schools.

"Is death the price of all such magic? Or can essences be spun from the spirit world without that price? Also, do you have access to Necromancy Arcane Essences? Would you be willing to trade two to me for these two Ethereal Essences?"

She extends a hand that holds two glittering jewels. "On another matter, I would like you to look at something for me."

She will then show him the Blood of Fire. She is curious if he can tell which great spirit blessed the blood and what necromancy still glows within it.


HP 56/98 Panache 6/7 Stamina 4/10 | AC 28/18/20); 26/18/18 w/composite bow | energy resist: 2 negative, 5 fire | CMD 30 | Fort +6 Ref +13 Will +5 | Per +16, Darkvision 60 ft. | Init +7 (+9 w/swashbuckler initiative);
Class and Skills:
Swashbuckler (Inspired Blade) 8/Fighter (Lore Warden) 2 | Acro +20, Bluff +10 Climb +8, Inti +16, Stea +15
Combat:
30 ft. (30 ft.) | Melee +19/+14 (+21/+16 vs. undead) (+2 bane rapier) Ranged +15 (dagger) Ranged +16/+11 (mwk composite shortbow) CMB +12; weapon cord attached: Yes (rapier)

@Valjoen: If possible, I'd like to use the Unchained rules for Craft skills. It offers rules for working under field conditions, time spent on various jobs according to the effort required, and covers special materials as well. In any case, may I assume that the requisite materials for repairing the breastplate are available in the tower's forge?


HP 80/80 | AC 21/16/15 | CMD 21 | Fort +7 Ref +12 Will +6 | Per +12, Dark Vision 60' | Init +6 Aegean Unchained Rogue 7 {Nature Fang 1}

Gasping for breath as he was awakened, Gruskorb expected to see himself in the middle of a battle. For better or for worse though, he seemed to be in the aftermath.

"Thanks to you all," the out-of-character gratitude sounded from the rogue's lips. Gruskorb sat up, taking stock of his surroundings. "I was not as useful as I could have been. You saved me."

Still not at full strength, Gruskorb took his time climbing to his feet. All the hazards? Are they mad? "How many of you archmages are there?" the brazen hobgoblin asked of his kin. "We'd be lucky to make it through another trial like this ... though maybe you can salvage us with that." He had gestured towards the staff. I hope it was worth it.

"Before we leave this place, I have a few questions of my own after you take some time with Niyut. If you don't mind." The subordinate clause was genuine, though an afterthought.

We'll get a look around the place, Querkus. Just wait until he is ready.


Male Half-Orc Druid 8/Cleric 1 | HP: 116/116 l AC: 26 (30 with buffs, 32 vs the first 3 attacks per round) /T: 12/FF: 24 l Fort: +15*, Ref: +5*, W: +14* l Init: +0 l Per: +15; Low-light vision l Movement: 30 *Hardy: Gain +2 racial bonus on saving throws against poison, spells, and spell-like abilities *Familiar:51/51

Joined by the essence gathered earlier the crystallized remnants of the geist's spirit becomes a spectral mist that swirls around the haft of Morgrym's weapon. For several seconds the mist struggles to merge with the weapon's form as if the two, like oil and water, were wholly incapable of blending cleanly. Eventually the essences find a way in, merging with the fearsome weapon and causing it to give off an pale golden glow.

Accustomed to such a reaction at this point, Truk'tosh is unfazed. Instead he takes a few test swings at the open air, testing the axe's weight and balance. He's immediately surprised by the sensation of a shifting center of mass, as if there was some internal weight that rolled with the weapon's swing. The axe was almost begging to be hurled like a hammer.

***

"What can you tell us about Haemil and Rhykal", Truk'tosh asks of the newly armed Hazard. "We have never traveled this far from the Firebird lands and we're not familiar with the city.


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""I'll anser what I can, Gruskorb," the Hazard responds.

@Gruskorb - Fire away with questions if you like.

Turning to Truk'tosh, the Necromancer grins broadly. "Rhykal is a delightful gnome. Her warmth and caring for all creatures is unmatched among the Hazards. But do not let her motherly, and seemingly unfocused, random nature deceive you. She is very powerful and, when angered, quite destructive and vengeful. Haemil is a... well, it was majestic city built upon the foothills of the Iron Mountains. Of course, I'm unsure what to expect there now. Earthwork, the earthen fortress that surrounds the city was built by the gods, they say. Calwein is said to have established it as his stronghold during the great wars against Kiravor. The sheer granite walls of the fortress are one hundred feet high and nearly as thick. Two massive doors of oak bound by iron stand ready to seal the city off from the rest of the world. It's been three generations of Kings since the doors have been drawn closed as no one has dared to attack the city in ages. If the city still stands, you will be in for a treat to see it... although they aren't very partial to elves, not to mention orcs."

Niyut and Truk'tosh:
The Kingdom of Haemil is on the west side of the Iron Mountains while the lands of the Firebird Clan are on the east side of the mountains. Niyut and Truk would have heard of Haemil as a scary place, where humans from Haemil infrequently cross over to the east side. When they do its usually dealing with orcs that would have raided the rural areas around Haemil having crossed the mountains on high passes during the spring or summer.

Garidan and Knowledge(History DC10):
You would have heard of Haemil as one center of worship of Calledrym. It is suppose to be a magnificent city governed by a human king. A working class of gnomes and halflings live in abundance there.

Malthazir and Knowledge(History DC15):
Elves and dwarves are regarded with suspicion as they are just rare. There is a fairly large dwarven city to the south in the Iron Mountains but they keep to themselves and rarely interact with Haemil. Haemil has a large calvary that patrols the plains to the west of the mountains for several hundred miles. There are small outposts for these patrols to inhabit as they guard the kingdom, but are otherwise unmanned. The city walls are naturally formed but hand-carved from the mountains beyond recollection. The city has several tiers with tinkered platforms that raise and lower to allow access to the higher tiers. A subterranean river supplies the water for the city. A clockwork tower built into the divide between the Lower City and the next level is the seat of the Hazard of Conjuration.


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Niyut wrote:

Poor Malthazir. Necromancy is one of his oppositional schools.

"Is death the price of all such magic? Or can essences be spun from the spirit world without that price? Also, do you have access to Necromancy Arcane Essences? Would you be willing to trade two to me for these two Ethereal Essences?"

She extends a hand that holds two glittering jewels. "On another matter, I would like you to look at something for me."

She will then show him the Blood of Fire. She is curious if he can tell which great spirit blessed the blood and what necromancy still glows within it.

The necromancer looks at the small vile that the oracle produced, studying it intently. "Without a doubt, this is the work of Gaeruhn. This is a magical beast's blood, perhaps draconic. It is made to be pure negative energy infused with the essence of fire. It will consume all life that it touches! A very powerful weapon indeed... where did you come across it?"

Without waiting for Niyut to respond, Sivantanpisil regards the oracle, "Such is the price of magic. When the universe came to life, the energy of the ether was finite. Since that beginning, ethereal energy is only created by the mortal soul. That is why the gods crave our attention and reverence as our thoughts give them power.. as surely as our blood and flesh contain that power as well." He gently hands the vial back to Niyut and then reaches inside his black robes. Drawing forth a gnarled, burnt wand, Siv points the tip of the wand at his left palm and slowly draws a circle. Repeating the motion with increasing speed, a black orb begins to materialize in his hand. He holds the essence between his middle finger and thumb.

"I have only one to spare. It is more precious to me than a single ethereal essence. Beyond those essences you took from the dark creatures that inhabit the catacombs, what else did you find down there? Perhaps, you have something else that I would find to be of value."


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Niyut gives the Hazard a frank look and gestures at the Staff of Stoorjian. "You mean besides that legendary staff we just gave you that can command armies of the dead, quicken your spells, and bring you home in a glimmer of an eye?"

Niyut hopes that the archmage has some sense of reciprocity. But if he does not, then she will offer Reference Guide to Crafting Constructs a valuable reference for any crafter. If he still is uninterested, she will offer up her prized fire talisman that she won from the goblin shaman whose ritual she bested beneath the mountains.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Should I make a diplomacy roll to convince him to give her the discount?


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22 If needed


"Muahaha!" Siv roars with laughter. "Well played, my young half-orc friend. But I shall not wield such a staff, except to aid Baerwynnd. It is not mine and I do not wish to have such a vile thing. My hope is to see its destruction before it is all done." Rubbing his face with his hands as though he is trying to shake himself free from an overwhelming fatigue, he looks across the way at Malthazir. "Evil power, even wielded with the best of intentions, can corrupt oneself... given time."

Sivantanpisil rises and walks over to the elf, placing a hand upon the Stormborn Robe. "You have found wondrous things in this broken world, but be cautious... and curious. For all magic is power, even the least amount in a mundane thing may prove valuable," he continues as his eyes transfix on destroyed optic of the wizard. Then, turning back to the oracle, he retakes his seat. "And the smallest trinket may be your downfall. I'll give this a good read and add it to my library," he concludes as he takes the book on constructs from Niyut along with an ethereal essence in exchange for his necromancy essence.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Niyut knows that there is wisdom in the Hazard's words. Certainly, he was far more experienced in the arts than she. All her life, she has heard about the corruption represented by her magic. Hers was not the power of the natural world. Hers was the power of shadows and death. Breath and bone. Blood and shadow. Darkness and light. But, despite these words of wisdom, her heart rebels. I am tired of being suspicious of my gifts. I do not choose the power that comes to me. I turn it to the best purposes that I can. Better to be alive in shadow than to be dead in the light. Malthazir's bad magic stone has saved the lives of the others many times over.

"Thank you. I will ponder your words. I hope that you repurpose the essences in that staff instead of merely destroying it. Many must have lost their lives to grant it its power. To destroy it without finding a new use for their energy would be as insulting to their spirits as killing an auroch for its horns."

True to her promise, Niyut is already pondering the Hazard's council. In an even smaller voice than her usual whisper she asks ,"Do you know of a way to detect the influence of a great spirit on a person. Say, if it spoke to them or touched their spirit in some way?

It would not be an exaggeration to say that Niyut fears that it is Gaeruhn that torments her in the spirit world.


"I am not an expert in the ways of the greater spirits by any stretch of the imagination. I stay clear of them at all costs. There are many temples dedicated to them in Haemil, should you find the city intact. Perhaps someone there could help you find an answer to aid you. A priestess of Amus may be a good start."

Tapping the staff to the ground, he continues, "Who knows what corrupted souls... or the innocent, contributed to this staff. If possible, we shall attempt to harvest the essences when the time comes."


HP 56/98 Panache 6/7 Stamina 4/10 | AC 28/18/20); 26/18/18 w/composite bow | energy resist: 2 negative, 5 fire | CMD 30 | Fort +6 Ref +13 Will +5 | Per +16, Darkvision 60 ft. | Init +7 (+9 w/swashbuckler initiative);
Class and Skills:
Swashbuckler (Inspired Blade) 8/Fighter (Lore Warden) 2 | Acro +20, Bluff +10 Climb +8, Inti +16, Stea +15
Combat:
30 ft. (30 ft.) | Melee +19/+14 (+21/+16 vs. undead) (+2 bane rapier) Ranged +15 (dagger) Ranged +16/+11 (mwk composite shortbow) CMB +12; weapon cord attached: Yes (rapier)

Long post is long :p. Finally get to scratch my crafting itch!

Knowledge (history) Check: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

Mention of Haemil as their next destination sparks something within Garidan's mind, though the chaos in there after absorbing that essence means that it takes some time before the errant information makes itself known to him. Once it does, however, he makes a mental note to visit one of his patron's temples in the hopes that an appeal for aid through one of his chosen actually gets answered in a useful fashion. Of course, he mentally adds with a snort of grim amusement, that sort of depends on the city being something approaching intact, as well as populated by more than the unquiet dead.

Shaking his head to clear that from his mind, the swashbuckler retrieves the battered breastplate and his tools, then prepares to head further down the tower to the forge. Before disappearing from view, he calls back to the others. "If any of you have equipment in need of work, just drop it off down there in the forge and I'll give it some attention." He then turns his gaze in Gruskorb's direction and, his hands being occupied, uses his chin to indicate the pack on Tacal's back. "If you're up to it, I'd quite appreciate you using that little fixit spell on the broken flasks I've got in there. We'll hopefully have need of them soon."

With that, Garidan ventures down to the forge where, after making sure that everything is fired up and ready for use and--most fortuitously--the raw material he needs for his repairs is on hand, he spends the next several hours carefully restoring the breastplate to something fit for use. Though the party is on something of a schedule, he takes the time to do the work to very best of his ability, since his life will depend on it being done right. In his mind, 'Ruza's voice offers a quiet but stream of helpful words, guiding his hands in what is only his second real use of her former skill.

Under the new Craft rules--and perhaps a link to those in the campaign tab might be handy for reference--the breastplate is considered an Intricate item, being medium armor of masterwork quality made of a special material. So the final DC is 25, and Garidan is going to take 20 on his check to make it happen.
Craft (armor) Check (Repair) (Take 20): 20 + 9 = 29

Eventually, after much effort and sweating, the breastplate is ready once more to be worn, and Garidan takes a moment to enjoy the sight before adding one final detail. Reaching into his pouch, he digs out the final essence in his possession and cautiously touches it to the armor's surface. In an instant, the crystal is gone from his grasp, pulled into the metal in a heartbeat. The swashbuckler isn't quite sure what the effect of this addition will be, but very much hopes that it will be beneficial. Before leaving the forge--after making everything is cleaned and properly set for future use--he trades his battered chain shirt for the breastplate, to grow accustomed to its feel.

Gathering his tools and old armor, he returns to the upper level and stows everything away on Tacal's broad back, then takes some time to relax and consult with the others about his plans for the alchemy he intends to engage in later. "Since the Hazard has graciously offered free use of his former apprentice's supplies and tools, I'm going to use this new knowledge I've been given. I'm not certain yet what raw materials are present down there, but I thought I'd ask if there is anything the rest of you might like me to try my hand at, if ingredients are available?"


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Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

"Avoiding the great spirits is truly the path of wisdom. I have many things to do before you your incantations whisk us away to the Kragenwood. First, above all else, I would like a bath. Can you please point me to your baths?"

After the Hazard, directs her to the bath. Niyut luxuriates in the hot water lapping at her olive skin. It has been days since she has been able to wash her hair. Though Eastgate was less than a week's march from this tower, it feels like the dwarves and their wondrous plumbing were months in the past.

She slips down further into the tub, plunging below the water's surface. Green hair so dark it looks black drifts around her like seaweed.

Gaeruhn, the Flesheater, is the great spirit behind the fire goblins. No wonder that Katadante was keeping secrets. The history of the dwarves seems tied up to that hungry spirit. It is also likely that the great spirit who haunts me is the Flesheater himself. Will feeding the Liber Sanguinem the Blood of Fire give me greater insight into exposing his tricks or would it further expose me to his influence?

These thoughts and others like them swirl in the oracle's mind as the stress and exhaustion of this brutally long day are leeched from her limbs by the water's heat.

Once she is both physically clean and ritually purified, Niyut sprinkles red sand in a circle before lighting some ghost weed.

"Sacred Mother, though you are not honored by my kin, I give thanks for your aid and succor. Thank you for your blessings and protection this night and in the long night to come . . ."

Her next task before sleep claims her is to bond the dark essence she bartered from the Hazard to the book of old and bloody magic that has been filling her thoughts since she first cracked its cover. Her finger traces a word idly as she brings the precious black orb to the pale skin of the book's pages. Its dusty red lettering becomes lurid as the book . . . swallows . . . the energy of death. For a moment, she sees black veins pumping before the pages return to their bleached tan and the words written in blood return to a dusty ochre. If she listens closely, she can almost hear its pages whispering secrets of forgotten lore and eldritch ritual to her.

My magic is dark, but I will master it. I did not choose this power, but I will not be its plaything.

Picking up her mother's wand, Niyut joins her final essence to its dark wood. I wonder who mother killed to kindle its magic. What did she know of this long night? How much did she foresee? Does she yet live?

"One thing I do know, is that I cannot rely on Gaeruhn's fire. What I need is knowledge and insight. I will seek it from the spirit world," she whispers to herself.

At long last, she lies down to sleep, to dream, to eat foods that no longer exist after the world's end.

Niyut's Dream:

In the world of the spirits, silver eyes open to a crackling fire and the savory smells of Firebird cooking. Niyut notices that her dark hair is completely silver now in this world. She can no longer sense a difference between herself and the sorcery of the elf.

"We are one now," the woman/cloaker murmurs.

Beside her, she hears a feminine snort. "Far have you strayed from the teachings of the Firebird, daughter of my daughter. But, perhaps our teachings are less wise after the world's end."

The woman/cloaker gasps in surprise. Recently, when she had dreamed of a feast, she had been alone in her dreams. She shifts and beholds a tiny woman wizened with age.

"Grandmother, how is it that you are here in my dreams?"

"Foolish girl, who do you think heals the wounds that you call on us to mend? Who do you think weaves wards to shield your twin from harm. Who do you think cooked this feast for you to eat? Yes, the greater portion of your power comes from sources we abjure. But do not underestimate your ancestors, daughter of my daughter. We stretch back in an unbroken chain to Simur in the first of days. Our spirits, our blood, holds power that even the great spirits cannot break in this world of dreams."

Slightly petulantly Niyut responds to her grandmother, "The lowlanders do not know of the primogenitors. They say that the great spirits created the world of flesh."

Again, her grandmother snorts, "Lowlanders say many things, daughter of my daughter. Truth is usually unspoken by the living. But, I did not come to dispute the lore of the lowlanders. I sensed your need, and so to my fire I have I drawn your dreaming spirit."

Niyut casts her eyes down in remorse, "I am sorry, Grandmother. I'm stalked by a great spirit. He offers me fire. But I do not need flame. I need wisdom. I need lore."

The old woman nods. "Your ancestors have much wisdom to offer, but the secrets one treasures most are not found at one's own hearth, daughter of my daughter. Go out from the light of my hearth to find the wisdom that you seek."

"Thank you, Grandmother."

The two women eat in silence bound by blood, affection, and secrets until the younger woman, who is also a cloaker, stands up and glides into the darkness seeking after wisdom on silver wings.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

With Garidan

While Garidan spent many hours at the forge, he can tell that Niyut spent those hours sleeping. He can tell that she looks fresh, bright, and lovely. He finds her pouring over that strange book with its bleached tan pages and its strange rust colored script. He knows that it is magic since he saw it drink up the blood she spilled upon it. But even to his untrained senses it seems somehow more now than it did before. The black cat also appears to be reading the book as it lies draped over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Garidan. I'm busy, and I know nothing of alchemy. Healing concoctions seem useful, but I would trust your own judgment."


HP 80/80 | AC 21/16/15 | CMD 21 | Fort +7 Ref +12 Will +6 | Per +12, Dark Vision 60' | Init +6 Aegean Unchained Rogue 7 {Nature Fang 1}

Waiting until Sivantanpisil had a quiet moment, Gruskorb made his way to the necromancer.

It can't hurt to ask.

"Thanks for taking the time to talk." The rogue leaned against a nearby wall, more confident with an upright posture in conversation with a potent arcanist of this sort. "You're probably tired, but then again, I guess I am too. It comes with nearly dying." And given how Querkus is, probably actual death, I imagine.

Gruskorb was abrupt. "There are spirits living within us. At least the spirit-talker Niyut and myself, but perhaps the others as well." While the others may have professed to their otherworldly denizens, Niyut's response to him was the only one that truly drove the confidence home for him. The others' perceptions might have been addled in the shaping. Garidan seems addled all the time, actually. "I was wondering if you could return them to their previous forms. Being a necromancer and all, the dead are your specialty, right?"

Happy to provide the hazard with the information he needed, Gruskorb then moved on to his second topic. "While we may be cousins of form, the spirit within me is an elf. His home is in this area, Pyrae. Your struggle to defend its inhabitants means a good deal to him - even if the land itself is forfeit. Would you be able to show us the extent of the destruction in his home? Querkus has a very strong urge to lay eyes on it - even if they're mine."


Deep within the recesses of Niyut, Viosil shudders at t he thought of the dark magic the oracle wields. The blood of fire is evil... I felt it in the dwarven catacombs and I feel its presence even now... it corrupts you and burns me to ash...

Nice dream!

The druid peers through the eyes of the hobgoblin as he approaches Sivantanpisil. Weary of life and of death... not tired... I long to feel the wind in my face and the sun upon my back... if this is the afterlife, I do not wish it...

Listening to Gruskorb tell him of Querkus, the necromancer leans forward in his chair. "My knowledge is of the flesh and the energies that reside within. I know little of the mortal soul other than what is commonly known amongst the wise and arcane. Selefahn, the Herald, is said to have dominion over the departed souls of all sentient beings. He escorts them back to the ether so that they may join with it and be made again. Perhaps Selefahn has abandoned them or perhaps it was they who fled from the Lord of Bone. Which, if either of those, is the truth, I do not know."

Sivantanpisil continued his discussion with the hobgoblin, "Few elves live in this area, but those who do... and certainly all those that pass through our lands... find the seclusion of the old forests of Kragenwood to be most like their homelands to the south. I suspect he once resided there."

From Querkus' description that Gruskorb conveys to the wizard, Sivantanpisil is able to guess the location of the druid's grove. "It is not far from where I intended to send you when rested. I shall set you as close to there as I am able."


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Niyut doesn't remember much of her dream once she left her grandmother's fire. But, she does feel different. Her memories seem crisper. Unfamiliar incantations dance in her mind. Perhaps she will try one of these new incantations.

Sitting up, she reaches for a tortoise shell comb, so that she may remove the tangles that sleep has left in her dark hair. Once her mane has been tamed, Niyut binds it up in scarf to keep it from her face as she works.

Kneeling on the cold flagstones of the necromancer's tower, the oracle lays two objects before her: the talisman of fire and the golden scale. Then she begins to sing an incantation. Before the world ended, she would have needed her medicine bag to provide the components of the spell. Now things are different. No sorcery coils behind every spell, passively lending them strength that they otherwise would not possess.

After several moments of song, Niyut better understands the touch of the spirit world on these talismans than she has ever before.

Spell Craft (Golden Scale): 1d20 + 21 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 21 + 10 = 42

Spell Craft (To discern the mysterious effect that sacrificing the fire talisman would have on a fire spell): 1d20 + 21 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 21 + 10 = 40


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

Once she has untangled these mysteries, Niyut is struck with inspiration. This spell could give her greater insight into the manner that the Liber Sanguinem draws power from blood. She reaches into her robe and pulls out the tome and the vial of the Blood of Fire.

For once Niyut is giving some credence to Viosil's fears. The Blood of Fire was infused with the power of a great spirit whom she fears is already influencing her. She would take no rash actions.

Spell Craft (Blood of Fire): 1d20 + 21 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 21 + 10 = 48

Spell Craft (Liber Sanguinem): 1d20 + 21 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 21 + 10 = 45


HP 56/98 Panache 6/7 Stamina 4/10 | AC 28/18/20); 26/18/18 w/composite bow | energy resist: 2 negative, 5 fire | CMD 30 | Fort +6 Ref +13 Will +5 | Per +16, Darkvision 60 ft. | Init +7 (+9 w/swashbuckler initiative);
Class and Skills:
Swashbuckler (Inspired Blade) 8/Fighter (Lore Warden) 2 | Acro +20, Bluff +10 Climb +8, Inti +16, Stea +15
Combat:
30 ft. (30 ft.) | Melee +19/+14 (+21/+16 vs. undead) (+2 bane rapier) Ranged +15 (dagger) Ranged +16/+11 (mwk composite shortbow) CMB +12; weapon cord attached: Yes (rapier)

Assuming nobody has anything specific in mind for Garidan's impending alchemical adventure.

With his companions splitting off to tend to matters of their own while circumstances permit, and consequently trusting that whatever he can produce will be beneficial, Garidan retrieves the empty flasks from their supplies and then descends two levels to the workspace once used by Siv's apprentice. His new knowledge, now settled as though it had always been a part of him, enables the budding alchemist to swiftly identify the materials available to him, modest in quantity but otherwise enough to allow for a surprising variety of finished products. And the tools are similarly comprehensive in their scope, such that Garidan is able to set aside some of the more durable and compact elements to form a traveling kit; it'll be barebones and quite rough compared to what he now knows is a proper version of such a kit, but it'll work and that's the part that matters.

That matter attended to, Garidan then takes a few moments to consider what the party could most use. Foremost on his thoughts is the fact that his companions are somewhat reluctant to trust their welfare to any methods or equipment but what they already know. Fortunately, even with that caveat, there are some items that they might be interested in, and Garidan gets to work with a faint smile. The ioun torch, now hovering at his shoulder, easily lights up the work area, and he can almost feel his sister's interest in his actions.

"Do be careful Gari," his sister cautions as he begins mixing and heating various compounds. "You might know how to do this now, but that's not the same as having experience doing it. And the creature that knowledge came from wasn't what I'd consider a trustworthy source either," 'Ruza adds, her words tinged with worry.

Acknowledging his sister's entirely valid concerns with a short nod, Garidan replies. "Oh, I have no intention of being sloppy here, believe me. That geist was pretty competent in life, whoever they were, and well aware of the hazards. And I'm always trying to stay aware of any thoughts or ideas that seem, well, off, though that's not the easiest thing to do."

The alchemist's lab in the work area, being the full-sized version, grants a +2 bonus to Garidan's checks.

Acid: DC 15 (normal), 2gp, 5sp cost
Craft (alchemy) Check: 1d20 + 12 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 12 + 2 = 18

Well, roll sucked. So only 2gp of progress made -_-.

In light of his aforementioned inexperience, Garidan decides to try his hand at something relatively simple to begin with, acid. Useful enough in a fight and there shouldn't be too many things resistant to its effects either. And his choice proves a wise one, with his inexperience making itself known almost from the start of his efforts.


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Clearing her mind, Niyut looks at the Golden Scale with intense concentration. She knows that the scale will grant its user the ability to better notice secret doors and other such hidden passages. Additionally, it is clear that at times it may reveal invisible objects to the user, but how to operate or activate the item eludes her. Finally, Malthazir, who has been watching the oracle from across the chamber, offers his assistance. The wizard holds the Golden Scale up to get a detailed look at the etchings upon the scale. Cocking his head to the side, a bright flash of light glares at his injured eye through the cracks of the makeshift eye-patch he wears. Peeling off the ragged piece of cloth that has covered his injury since that fateful night in Talanor, he instantly becomes aware that the Golden Scale allows him to see with both eyes as before the calamity that stole his vision. Fastening the leather straps that still dangle from the scale around his head, he finds that it fits comfortable over his left eye.

+5 bonus to perception to see secret or concealed doors as well as other hidden passageways or similar constructs. Additionally, 1/day, as an SLA, the Golden Scale will grant the wearer See Invisiblity. The wearer's character level will serve as the caster level for this spell.

Smiling at Malthazir, Niyut turns her attention to the next magical item in her possession. Studying the Talisman, she falls into a fugue. In her dream state, she sees herself casting a spell while holding the talisman aloft. As flames emerge from her right hand engulfing her faceless enemies and utterly destroying them, she sees the talisman, itself, burst into flames and turn to ash. The ash floats on the air and swirls around the oracle clinging to her exposed skin. A white flame begins to char her skin but she feels no pain. Peering into her reflection's eyes, she sees the form of an elf being surrounded by the flames. He screams in agony as he is consumed. With a start, Niyut awakens.

Using the talisman as the material component of a fire based evocation spell will grant the spell both the intensified and maximized effect. What else the vision revealed is up to interpretation.

I'll get to the other 2 questions from Niyut later today.


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Once again, Niyut weaves a spell of identification over the Blood of Fire. Her eyes linger for several minutes as ethereal energy coalesces about the vial. her eyes roll back into her head as she communes with the spirits.

You come to me again for guidance, do you, daughter of my daughter? Niyut looks up to see her grandmother before her. You fear that it was made by the eater of flesh? No, it was not. But it was through his profane rituals that this blood was made corrupt. The wizened old woman opens the vial and a single, oily drop of the blood falls upon her tongue. From the offspring of the first dragon of flame, this blood came... Tashera was her name. And then she was gone.

Niyut's eyes open. The opened vial rests in her right hand and the cork rolls upon the ground in front of her. Don't... Viosil's distant voice rings in her ears.

Later

Lying down upon the warm blankets, she opens the Liber Sanguinem and begins to read of the first ritual described within its pages. Confused and frustrated, she once again casts a spell to aid her comprehension, and to her surprise, she makes out an encoded phrase through the first section referencing the conversion of elemental essences from one form to another. And then she sees it, the title of the ritual; written within the illustrations of the text:

Rites of Converto Elementis:

School: Transmutation; Level: 4
Casting Time: 40 minutes
Components: V,S,M (a mithril bowl; an unidentified elemental reagent)
Secondary Casters: (up to 4)
Skill Checks: Knowledge (arcana) DC 26, 2 successes; Knowledge (planes) DC 26, 1 success; Spellcraft DC 26, 1 success.
Range: Touch
Target: One elemental essence
Duration: Permenant
Saving Throw: None; Spell Resistance: No
Backlash: The primary caster is exhausted.
Failure: The elemental essence will be destroyed causing damage equal to 4d6 plus 2d6 for each secondary caster to all casters and anyone within 100 feet of the ritual.
Effect: The elemental essence will be transformed into the appropriate type when place into the mithril bowl containing the appropriate component.
Components:
..Air: ??
..Earth: ??
..Fire: ??
..Water: ??

With each additional reading session, you can attempt to discover a random component for the ritual with another spellcraft check.


Female Half Orc Oracle (Spirit Guide) 9/Sorcerer (Cross-blooded) 1 l HP: 79/79 l AC: 14 (Current AC: 22)/T: 13/FF: 11 (15) l F: +7, R: +10, W: +11 (+2 v Illusions) l Init: +5 l Per: +21 (+23 dim/dark); Darkvision 90' l Movement: 30 l SR Check: +11

The young spirit talker carefully restoppers the vial. Some risks were not worth taking. She then gets up and turns her attention to the Liber Sanguinem. Curled up in her blankets she does her best to not wonder what kind of animal contributes its skin for the vellum that comprise the books pages. The book hid its secrets well even from its presumable mistress because Niyut had no doubt that the tome is alive in some real sense.

Eventually, she pries some sense from its pages. A ritual that can transform one elemental essence to another kind of elemental essence!? The implications of this ritual astound Niyut. If this feat is possible, then perhaps the grimiore might contain a ritual that transforms arcane essences into different arcane essences.

Quickly, she rises, closing the Liber Sanguinem with a snap. She goes to seek out the Hazard of Necromancy. "Do you have a mithril bowl? I can trade in kind. Also, do you have any books on ritual magic?" The oracle is loathe to admit that while her tribe often practiced such magic, she had no training in it. They had not trusted her curse not interfere with such workings.


Male Noble Elf Wizard 9/Bard 1 | AC 15/10/15 | HP 71/71 | F +4, R +6, W +9 | CMD 12 | Move 30 ft. | Init +6 | Perc +15 (+4 with familiar)

Malz generally turns his nose up at all the necromancy. An unsavory art that does more damage than good, or even research. Simply not an overall productive school. And that's not even getting into the insufferable hypocrisy of white necromancers...

Do you get along with anybody?

Malz ignores the bonded soul, turning his attention back to what's in front of him. As Sivatanpisil talks of the Hazard of Conjuration Malz can't help but give a grin. Ah, now that's a good conversation to be had.

Malz thanks the great wizard for the access, spending as much of the evening as possible reading but doesn't bother copying any spells down. He was never very interesting in practicing necromancy, but the history of it was rich with stories. Such a dark art is inevitable to have an interesting past.

Gruskorb wrote:
"How many of you archmages are there?"

"At least one for each school, I would imagine. You have no idea how much it upsets us that there are eight major schools. Seven is the best number for such matters." And I know which one I wouldn't mind losing. Malz says in the den of necromancy.

Knowledge (history (untrained)): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

Sivatanpisil wrote:
"Evil power, even wielded with the best of intentions, can corrupt oneself... given time."

For some less time than others.

Sivatanpisil wrote:

"You have found wondrous things in this broken world, but be cautious... and curious. For all magic is power, even the least amount in a mundane thing may prove valuable," he continues as his eyes transfix on destroyed optic of the wizard.

Malz frowns, his eye throbbing in pain almost as if in response. Oh I will deal with this in time, believe me.

~~~

Malz information that he shares with the party:
Elves and dwarves are regarded with suspicion as they are just rare. There is a fairly large dwarven city to the south in the Iron Mountains but they keep to themselves and rarely interact with Haemil. Haemil has a large calvary that patrols the plains to the west of the mountains for several hundred miles. There are small outposts for these patrols to inhabit as they guard the kingdom, but are otherwise unmanned. The city walls are naturally formed but hand-carved from the mountains beyond recollection. The city has several tiers with tinkered platforms that raise and lower to allow access to the higher tiers. A subterranean river supplies the water for the city. A clockwork tower built into the divide between the Lower City and the next level is the seat of the Hazard of Conjuration.


HP 80/80 | AC 21/16/15 | CMD 21 | Fort +7 Ref +12 Will +6 | Per +12, Dark Vision 60' | Init +6 Aegean Unchained Rogue 7 {Nature Fang 1}

Gruskorb nodded in thanks, then pushed himself off from the wall supporting him. "There's one other thing. It seems you, the spirit talker, and the elf all know a good deal of magic. These bits of energy we absorb from things we kill ... they seem to make us stronger." The aegean hefted his former overlord's whip, keeping it politely coiled. "The ones drawn to me were sucked into this whip. It's an heirloom of sorts, but not a positive one. Could something else hold the power they contain? Something less obvious of a threat?"

Assuming Siv fills-in Gruskorb appropriately:

"With all your learning, you might have the choice to look at opportunities on the other side of the grave, but for me, they are are only on this side. Survival is important - now more than ever. I'd like to make a trophy necklace of sorts to track my success in postponing the end. Do you have anything I could use as a durable cord about? Would you mind if I took a few ... mementos from what we bested?"

It was the hobgoblin's intention to sound a bit morbid; he hoped it would make Querkus's state seem a bit less bleak in comparison.


Male Half-Orc Druid 8/Cleric 1 | HP: 116/116 l AC: 26 (30 with buffs, 32 vs the first 3 attacks per round) /T: 12/FF: 24 l Fort: +15*, Ref: +5*, W: +14* l Init: +0 l Per: +15; Low-light vision l Movement: 30 *Hardy: Gain +2 racial bonus on saving throws against poison, spells, and spell-like abilities *Familiar:51/51

While his twin attends to study and prayer and Garidan occupies himself with the tower's forge, Truk'tosh looks for ways to keep himself busy. After feeding Tacal, brushing out his coat, and checking his hooves for burrs, Truk'tosh finds his way into the party's stores. Taking a length of copper wire he bends it into the simple snare with practiced ease while he watches his reptilian companion chase a spider across the tower's floor.

An hour later the snare is larger and more elaborate than necessary to catch the rare rabbit that still foraged outside amid the endless night but Truk'tosh continues building it up with more and more wire. Absentmindedly he keeps at it as he watches over Niyut during her vigil to learn what secrets the party's new trinkets kept. By the time she's finished his craft doesn't resemble one of his traps at all but the surprisingly vivid shape of a horned skull.

Truk'tosh is alarmed at first, equally by the wasted resources and the fearsome, strangely specific, totem crafted by his idle hands. His spiritual guest has a different opinion entirely. With a bit of mithril from the elf girl's pin that'd be a mighty fine tribute to Mylesar. That is what you were intendin' to do isn't it boy?

Silently he considers the suggestion. Was that what he'd intended to do? Mylesar was Morgrym's patron and guardian not his own but there was no denying that the greater spirit's gifts had proved valuable in their quest. Perhaps a token of the war god was in order...


Male Noble Elf Wizard 9/Bard 1 | AC 15/10/15 | HP 71/71 | F +4, R +6, W +9 | CMD 12 | Move 30 ft. | Init +6 | Perc +15 (+4 with familiar)

Ooh interesting. What does Malz's eye look like with the scale? It normally looks like something out of a nightmare.

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