The Last King of Ireland

Game Master Amergin the Wise


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Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

Knowledge Local Sword of Light: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

Knowledge Local Well of Wisdom: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

"Sure, perhaps we will find the Sword of Light with the Spear of Lug, the Stone of Destiny, and Dagda’s Cauldron, eh?", Daire says, not a little cheekily.

"The hazelnuts that the Salmon of Knowledge so wise ate fell first into the Well of Wisdom. Finn MacCool made a meal of the Salmon and took that wisdom and knowledge for himself - and the benefit of his people."

"In all seriousness, while I have not seen what Aoife refers to, there are strange things beyond the wisdom of the Bible or the teachings of scholars. Hints and legends may speak of greater truths, long lost. I will certainly go and see for myself."


"You'll all see for yourselves soon enough," the old man responds while handing each of them a cup of the mushroom infusion. "And you had best heed my warnings. I have come to love the bible and the teachings of your God, but the legends of our pagan past nevertheless allude to some truth. I should know. I was there, after all, when the Milesians travelled across the Irish Sea."

It's a preposterous assertion, and yet...

Daire McKiernan:
The Sword of Light was a god-slaying weapon with which Nuada, once King of the Tuatha de Danann. It is said to have been lost when Nuada was killed by Balor, the Tyrant King of the Fomorians. Legends say that to find the sword, one needs to defeat a veiled hag with the help of a fair maiden.
Rolling a Natural 20 should mean something, sometimes!


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Aoife twisted her nose at the cup of the mushroom infusion. "I hate mushrooms..." She said, a statement she had made the first time long ago. "Lets get this over with." Aoife told the group before she downed the drink.


Male Human Ranger (Skirmisher) 4, Rogue (Waylayer) 1 | HP: 42/55 ( +5 mythic) |AC: 19 (T:14, FF:15) CMB: +7, CMD: 19| F: +5, R: +9, W: +3 | Init: +4(+1 surprise+2 woods) | Perc: +9| Speed 30ft | 2/26 breath

"Calm yourself Aoife, I do not say you lie, although what you speak of does make me wonder if you have cracked. It is just that what you speak of are stories to frighten children, myths, legends. People experience odd dreams when the fever is on them or when they have eaten the wrong mushrooms or plants, this seems like one of those. Yet the bible teaches us there are miracles, indeed we have seen some recently, and for now I will assume this is one of those and trust you, but just know that I am sceptical. See!" with which he also downs the infusion despite its heat.


Male Human Barbarian (Superstitious) 7 AC 20, Touch 13, FF 18 | HP 105/105 | F +8, R +5, W +5 | Init +5 | Perc +12
Raging Stats:
AC 18, Touch 11, FF 16 | HP 119/119 | F +10, R +5, W +7 | Init +5 | Perc +12

Thorun frowns. "I just said I don't think there is lying or madness. I said speak plainly." Thorun takes the cup of mushroom juice and crinkles his nose. "If I want to get messed up I prefer ale." As the others drink he shrugs, downing it himself.


"I know these mushrooms," Sister Cobhlaith comments, hesitating. "They cause hallucinations and can be quite deadly if too many are consumed. Are you certain that this is the way?"

She looks to her companions who have already committed themselves, to Daire who smiles and drinks, and to Amergin who nods. "You must have faith that God will guide you through this trial, as He has all others."

I assumed that Daire would drink the infusion!

She acquiesces and, albeit reluctantly, drinks the infusion.

They all gather beneath the horizontal capstone. And they wait. It begins to rain. At first, it seems like the infusion has no effect whatsoever. And then they begin to feel... A slight tingle in their fingertips. Flushed cheeks and heavy legs. It becomes increasingly difficult to focus... On anything...

The rain stops and the sun shines but they are too lethargic to run out into the warmth. Amergin says something, but it's all gibberish. Some of them laugh. Some of them simply stare at the moon rising and the sun setting. The sky is on fire with shooting stars, and their faces seem grossly distorted by the light of the campfire.

The sun rises anew. The moon falls into the mountains. The sun sets and... Darkness.

Thick darkness like being inside on a moonless night. Blinding darkness. Almost palpable darkness...

The light will come when your characters are ready!


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

Daire raises the concoction, and pauses.

This might be the end of me.

"I recall something about the Sword of Light. It could slay gods, but was lost against Balor. Legends say that to find the sword, one needs to defeat a veiled hag with the help of a fair maiden."

He cannot help but glance at Aoife as he says this.

But perhaps, it will not be.

As he raises the drink to his lips and swallows.


Awakening from a deep sleep, they find themselves still under the capstone. The dim moonlight struggles to penetrate the preternaturally thick fog around them, but they can nevertheless see the trunk of a tall aspen tree that wasn’t there only moments ago.

Go away, the tree seems to whisper in the wind. The Sluagh are coming…

They hear rustling in the nearby gorse bushes…. A crow caws.

Knowledge Local or Religion DC 15:
The Sluagh are the spirit of the restless dead.

Knowledge Local or Religion DC 18:
The Sluagh are said to sometimes take the shape of a flock of birds.

Clearly uneasy, Sister Cobhlaith rummages through her satchel and finds the compass. It points east-northeast.

Geography DC 20:
If the geographical features of the Otherworld resemble those of the mortal world, then you should first go South to circumvent Drongawn Lough. Note that I made this spoiler purposefully difficult as it assumes that you have guessed that the geography of the Otherworld parallels that of the mortal world.


Male Human Barbarian (Superstitious) 7 AC 20, Touch 13, FF 18 | HP 105/105 | F +8, R +5, W +5 | Init +5 | Perc +12
Raging Stats:
AC 18, Touch 11, FF 16 | HP 119/119 | F +10, R +5, W +7 | Init +5 | Perc +12

Knew I'd probably wake up somewhere else. Thorun groans and stands, checking himself for any injuries and to make sure his gear is all present. He then peers around, snorting at the thick fog. How scenic. Bad place to get caught in a fight. Wouldn't be able to see anybody coming more than a little bit away. He takes a step forward...and practically flings himself down on his face. "Wha..." He steadies himself frowning. "So this it? Feels like I'm still f$%!ed up on those mushrooms."


When Thorun curses, another crow caws. And then two more... You hear wings flapping in the darkness and more rustling in the nearby gorse bushes. Something is coming...


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Aoife shakes her head as she stands. For once she found since her death dealing blow that she could breath deeply, and that she felt good... like really good. As if any battle she had before wouldn't bring her down now.

"No... it isn't those." Aoife answered Thorun. "This isn't how I felt when I moved through time." She explained as best she could. "We need to leave..." Aoife tells them. "We need to go now!"


GM:

Knowledge, Religion: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 13 = 24

The cawing of the crows soon becomes deafening. And then you see the first of the restless dead roving through the bushes. Men, women, and children – all condemned to an eternity in this nightmare. Their clothes are in tatters. The gorse thorns dig into their bloodied skin. In their eyes, there is madness and sadness, and perhaps in the deep recesses of their tormented soul, a plea for help.

The tall, mutilated form of a woman opens her mouth as if to speak, but her haunting moan only proves the monstrosity she has become. She begins to shamble towards the living. And more follow, stepping out of the fog...

"The Sluagh," Sister Cobhlaith whispers, crossing herself. "The restless souls of the cursed."


Male Human Ranger (Skirmisher) 4, Rogue (Waylayer) 1 | HP: 42/55 ( +5 mythic) |AC: 19 (T:14, FF:15) CMB: +7, CMD: 19| F: +5, R: +9, W: +3 | Init: +4(+1 surprise+2 woods) | Perc: +9| Speed 30ft | 2/26 breath

Know(local): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
Know(geog): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

Struggling awake, it takes time for Ruadhan to chase the sleep from his head. Faced with the gloomy, fog-filled night he breathes deeply, it felt wrong this place, in so many ways and yet, something inside him felt released, he felt quicker..... quicker and more resilient. Just as he pondered on this and wondered how it would affect him, the cawing of the crows cut through his train of thought and he focused his eyes to look at the shambling forms coming towards them. His mind finally snapping to the here and now, he calls out. "Sister, these Sluagh, can they hurt us? Do we run or fight? I see you have the compass which way does it say?" Drawing his blade and readying his shield he moves to the side nearest the oncoming dead.


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

"We need to move!" Aoife shouted out as she grabbed Sister Coblaith's arm and began to run allowing the Sister to direct her the way the compass was pointing.

Yet thoughts ran through her mind as they made their get away. 'Souls of the cursed? So... they're not damned but can't enter heaven? That can happen? Or is this just a... place in hell?"


Male Human Barbarian (Superstitious) 7 AC 20, Touch 13, FF 18 | HP 105/105 | F +8, R +5, W +5 | Init +5 | Perc +12
Raging Stats:
AC 18, Touch 11, FF 16 | HP 119/119 | F +10, R +5, W +7 | Init +5 | Perc +12

Thorun's eyes go wide. By the dead...literally. He draws his axe, taking a few steps with the party, glancing back at the shambling corpses.

Thorun doesn't fully believe what he's seeing and is taking a moment to 'disbelieve', as if they were an illusion.


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Knowledge Religion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Knowledge Religion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Knowledge Geography: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Daire is stunned into muteness by his surroundings. And then snaps out of it!

"The restless dead fly for us! Quick, run south! To avoid Drongawn Lough!" , he yells.


Aoife grabs Sister Cobhlaith who seems stunned, and they make a run for it. And while Daire is quick to follow and urges them all to head South, Ruadhan hesitates and Thorun stares at the apparitions in disbelief.

This is just a dream. This can't be real.

From the fog, more and more Sluagh appear, shambling towards them slowly, inexorably... And then, you hear the wings of the crows flutter as the flock takes flight as one.


Male Human Ranger (Skirmisher) 4, Rogue (Waylayer) 1 | HP: 42/55 ( +5 mythic) |AC: 19 (T:14, FF:15) CMB: +7, CMD: 19| F: +5, R: +9, W: +3 | Init: +4(+1 surprise+2 woods) | Perc: +9| Speed 30ft | 2/26 breath

Seeing the others move off, Ruadhán elbows Thorun.
"Come on, time to run. Time for us to take our places at the front and the back."

This is just a bad trip from those mushrooms, probably just Amergin or an old shepherd approaching us, laughing as we trip out. Just have to ride it out and not do anything stupid.


Male Human Barbarian (Superstitious) 7 AC 20, Touch 13, FF 18 | HP 105/105 | F +8, R +5, W +5 | Init +5 | Perc +12
Raging Stats:
AC 18, Touch 11, FF 16 | HP 119/119 | F +10, R +5, W +7 | Init +5 | Perc +12

Thorun shakes his head. "Uhh, right. Right." The big man turns, digging his heel in to move to the front of the group.

Whoosh! Thorun had always been fast, using his long legs and strength to tear up distances faster than others...but there is practically a whistle as he rips through the air. Something that big shouldn't be able to move that fast, it's unnatural.

I think with 50 foot move I can get in front of the group rather easily, then slow down to act as the vanguard.


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Aoife's eyes went wide as Thorun ran past her. "Thorun! Take Coblaith!" She called out. If he was the fastest and this turned bad quick he could get the one among then who couldn't fight to safety.

Though Daire was sending them South to avoid some place Aoife couldn't understand why. "Why?" She called to the bard. "That isn't where that thing is sending us. We're being pointed East by northeast." Aoife informed him. "That is almost completely the opposite way!"


They hustle away from the approaching Sluaigh, heading into the thick fog. Minding their footing and careful not to get caught in the thorny bushes, they make slow progress but nevertheless are able to avoid the roving bands of restless spirits. They are relieved, but their hope is short lived. Above them, they hear the nightmarish cawing of thousands of angry crows.

”Run!” Sister Cobhlaith screams, panicking. But running is difficult at best and even then, the swarm of birds is drawing nearer…


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

"The land here is a mirror of ours! If we run the other way, we'll be caught between the water and the dead!"


Male Human Barbarian (Superstitious) 7 AC 20, Touch 13, FF 18 | HP 105/105 | F +8, R +5, W +5 | Init +5 | Perc +12
Raging Stats:
AC 18, Touch 11, FF 16 | HP 119/119 | F +10, R +5, W +7 | Init +5 | Perc +12

Thorun had never been one to question his shield-mates. They didn't question him despite his barely-controlled battle fervor. He nods at Daire, not fully understanding but knowing they are going the right direction. At Aoife's words he ducks back, bodily hauling Coblaith over his shoulder and continuing forward.

Even including Thorun and Coblaith's gear he should be able to pick her up and still be under a medium load, allowing him to continue with a 50 ft. movespeed.


GM:

Channel energy damage: 5d6 ⇒ (6, 5, 6, 1, 2) = 20
Raven Swarm Will save: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 211d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28 Half damage = 10 hp
Raven Swarm damage: 3d6 ⇒ (3, 1, 3) = 7
Reflex vs eye-rake DC 18: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 blinded
Fortitude vs distraction DC 17 (1 round): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Fortitude vs plague DC 18: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13 infected

Thorun moves quickly to pick up Sister Cobhlaith... But he is too late. With horror, he watches as the flock of crows swoops down through the thick fog and envelops the nun who screams as the birds pick at her eyes.

But as the crows tear her skin with their sharp talons, light begins to shine through her. A brilliant, pure white light bleeds through her wounds, enveloping the swarm, which caws and flies away as quickly as it came. The Light of God shines even in the Otherworld!

Sister Cobhlaith just stands there, bleeding and blinded. "I can't see," she whimpers.

The swarm of crows has gone but there is no telling if and when it could return...


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Aoife had jumped to Cobhlaith's aid as the swarm descended upon them. She swatted at the birds as she tried to make it through to the Sister. However when the light began to flood she had to stop and cover he own eyes.

When it was all over she looked over Sister Cabhlaith with sadness as she stepped up and gently took her hands in her own. "I am here, I will be your eyes for the time. I owe my life to you as well after all." Aoife told her. "I can have Thorun carry you if you wish, or you can ride on my back."


For the record, if ever Sister Cobhlaith reads this: I had completely forgotten about your surgery when I wrote the post above! I certainly didn't mean to offend!


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

"Praise be to God!" , Daire shouts, not slowing his pace.


GM:

Str damage: 1d2 ⇒ 2
Con damage: 1d4 ⇒ 4
Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

Trusting in Thorun's strength, Sister Cobhlaith allows herself to be carried. She doesn't say a word, but it is clear that she is pained and worried – what if she never recovers her eyesight? As they travel, it becomes evident that the crows have infected her with some sickness or plague. She becomes weaker and tired. And still, she doesn't complain...

Trusting in Daire's instinct, they head south. Avoiding the bands of roving spirits, they find their way out of the fog and travel in the dim moonlight through the night until they come upon a familiar stone circle. This is Beltany. This confirms Daire's hypothesis!

The compass now points northeast.

Do you want to rest or move on?


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

"We should keep moving." Aoife told the group. "After what happened to Cobhlaith... well we I feel like the sooner we get out of here the better." She tells them as she scanned the area. "Not to mention we're also seeking the well."

"This thing it pointing Northeast now, we can go that way right?" Aoife asked.


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

Relieved beyond measure to be proven correct, Daire finally pauses in his flight to look about.

"I agree, Aoife! Let us gather our bearings first though!"

Knowledge Geography to assess the land: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7


The landmarks seem to be similar but the topography is somewhat different, and, try as he might, Daire cannot remember exactly where Beltany is in relation to Inishowen and the coast. He cannot say for sure if they should head northeast or if they should continue travelling east...


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

It would be so easy to lie, to give them certainty.

No. Not with them.

Shaking his head, Daire turns to the others.

"There are differences, enough that I am thrown off. It is either northeast or east. We need to pick one and with speed."


In the distance, they see roving bands of Sluaigh and flocks of crows...


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Aoife takes a moment to look around, though begins to move then Northeast.

If her survival check gets her going another way, just have her turn that way.


Male Human Ranger (Skirmisher) 4, Rogue (Waylayer) 1 | HP: 42/55 ( +5 mythic) |AC: 19 (T:14, FF:15) CMB: +7, CMD: 19| F: +5, R: +9, W: +3 | Init: +4(+1 surprise+2 woods) | Perc: +9| Speed 30ft | 2/26 breath

Know geog: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13
From his position as the rearguard, Ruadhán struggles to identify anything in this strange world. Stuck in his own thoughts he even struggles to notice much of the world around them and the ground they cover. Crossing himself he tries to snap back into the here and now.


Male Human Barbarian (Superstitious) 7 AC 20, Touch 13, FF 18 | HP 105/105 | F +8, R +5, W +5 | Init +5 | Perc +12
Raging Stats:
AC 18, Touch 11, FF 16 | HP 119/119 | F +10, R +5, W +7 | Init +5 | Perc +12

"Pick." Thorun says simply. The wrong direction is better than no direction right now. Last time they were caught somebody was blinded.


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

"North East! We go north east!"


Despite having marched through the night, the heroes decide to continue on their way, heading northeast as directed by their compass. The sun rises but does little to light their way, its rays dim and distant. As they travel, it becomes evident that the roving bands of Sluaigh are avoiding them, guided by some unseen hand… The crows fly above but stay away.

Within hours, they reach a wide and fast-flowing river. To the north, the sky is black with birds flying in circles above some distant landmark.

Knowledge, Geography DC 15:
You seem to be on the west bank of the River Foyle. The nearest crossing is some distance away, to the south.

Knowledge, Geography DC 20:
Likely, the birds are flying above Aileach, which stands atop Greenan Mountain. In the mortal world, the ringfort is the seat of the Kings of Aileach – namely, the MacLochlain.

If the DC20 check above is successful, you may roll for the spoiler below:
Knowledge, Local DC 15:
Legends say that the Grianan of Aileach stands where once was the home of kings and queens of the Tuatha de Danann.

Please roll Constitution checks to determine the effects of the forced march, and whether you can continue or must rest.


Male Human Ranger (Skirmisher) 4, Rogue (Waylayer) 1 | HP: 42/55 ( +5 mythic) |AC: 19 (T:14, FF:15) CMB: +7, CMD: 19| F: +5, R: +9, W: +3 | Init: +4(+1 surprise+2 woods) | Perc: +9| Speed 30ft | 2/26 breath

Know Geog: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Know Geog 2 : 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

Con check with endurance: 1d20 + 5 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 5 + 4 = 28

Pulling to a stop as he closes up to the others, from his rearguard position, Ruadhan is barely showing signs of having pushed himself through the night.
Finally having adjusted to being in this ghost of a world, Ruadhan pipes up as he recognises their location.
"I know roughly where we are now, this, yes this is the West bank of the Foyle, we can find a crossing further South, but it is some distance."


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Con check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

"It seems like we're safe for the moment." Aoife said as she took a few deep breaths. She was glad that she could breath like this for once. Ever since the blade found itself in her gut deep breathing was... difficult. "Are we still going the right way?" She asked to whoever could read the compass.


Male Human Barbarian (Superstitious) 7 AC 20, Touch 13, FF 18 | HP 105/105 | F +8, R +5, W +5 | Init +5 | Perc +12
Raging Stats:
AC 18, Touch 11, FF 16 | HP 119/119 | F +10, R +5, W +7 | Init +5 | Perc +12

Con: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Thorun remains completely untouched by the long march. "So. Not a drug trip than? Or just a really bad one?"


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Aoife sighed as she shook her head. "No Thorun. Once again, this is real. I promise you that."


Waiting on Daire's Constitution check...


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

Knowledge Geography: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

"Aye, you have the right of it, Ruadhán. Longer still with weariness."

Con: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (8) + 0 = 8


GM:

Forced march non-lethal damage: 2d6 ⇒ (2, 1) = 3
Sister Cobhlaith - Will save: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
Sister Cobhlaith - Perception: 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (5) + 6 - 2 = 9
Sister Cobhlaith - Initiative: 1d20 + 0 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 0 + 1 = 7
Sister Cobhlaith - Knowledge, Local: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

By the time they reach the river, Daire is exhausted. Tested by the horrors of this strange world and worn by the march, the warrior is weary and his feet are heavy. And, truth be told, Aoife is not sure that she could go on for much longer...

Daire takes 3 hp non-lethal damage and is fatigued.

Then, they hear it. A hound barks in the far distance. The sound is terrifying – veritably nightmarish. It reaches deep into even the most heroic of hearts and promises nothing but torment and sorrow.

"What was that?" Sister Cobhlaith exclaims, blind and terrified. Desperately, she begins to pray to herself, mumbling a litany of orisons, supplicating God to guide them safely through this hellish realm.

Knowledge, Local or Arcana, DC 20:
This could very well be the bark of the Cù Sìth of legends. Said to be the size of a young bull, the hound is a harbinger of death that appears to bear away the soul of a person to the afterlife.

Please roll a Will save DC 15. If you fail the save, you are spooked (–2 penalty on saving throws against fear effects and on Perception checks, +1 circumstance bonus on initiative checks).

Then, you can roll perception and initiative... Just in case...

Do you want to head South and find the crossing, or stay put and get some rest?


Female Human Fighter(Two-Weapon Warrior) 3/Brawler 4 AC 21, Touch 15, FF 17 | HP 53/53 | F +10, R +9, W +2 | Init +3 | Perc +11

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Will: 1d20 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 + 1 = 13
Perception: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (8) + 5 - 2 = 11
Inititive: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 3 + 1 = 18

"I don't know... but it sounded far off." Aoife said as she tried to figure the distance between the creature and them. "Maybe we should take a moment to catch our breath before we move. Just a small rest."


Male Human Barbarian (Superstitious) 7 AC 20, Touch 13, FF 18 | HP 105/105 | F +8, R +5, W +5 | Init +5 | Perc +12
Raging Stats:
AC 18, Touch 11, FF 16 | HP 119/119 | F +10, R +5, W +7 | Init +5 | Perc +12

Will: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Perception: 1d20 + 8 - 2 ⇒ (4) + 8 - 2 = 10
Init: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 4 + 1 = 15

Thorun looks at the others. "Do we have a good spot to hold out? I don't want to be caught off guard in a bad location."


GM:

Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

This spot on the river bank is as good as any. There is cover in a copse of sickly trees, fresh water, and dead wood that could be used to start a fire...


Male Human Ranger (Skirmisher) 4, Rogue (Waylayer) 1 | HP: 42/55 ( +5 mythic) |AC: 19 (T:14, FF:15) CMB: +7, CMD: 19| F: +5, R: +9, W: +3 | Init: +4(+1 surprise+2 woods) | Perc: +9| Speed 30ft | 2/26 breath

Know local: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Will: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28
Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Ruadhan gets +1 to his initiative if acting in a surprise round and a +2 to initiative and perception if that copse is enough to count as woods (I am guessing no to both)

" Well we may as well not fight tired, although it would be nice to put the river between us and that nightmarish sounding hound. Perhaps we can light a fire for a little warmth too in this miserable world. I still feel fresh though, so I will check the edge of the copse and see if it gives us cover we can use, or which may provide an ambush spot. Only a short rest though and then we should push on."
Stepping even only a little way from the group, Ruadhan's senses come further alive as he takes in the sights and scents of the place.


Male CN Bard (Brazen Deceiver) 5 | HP: 56/56 | AC: 18 (14 Tch, 15 Fl) | CMB: +6, CMD: 19 | F: +3, R: +9, W: +4 | Init: +2 | Perc: +3, SM: +6 | Speed 30ft | Bardic Performance: 22/28 | Mythic Power: 1/5 | Spells: 1st 5/6, 2nd 2/5, 3rd 0/2 | Active conditions: 0 Non-lethal Damage.

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Will Save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

"I can not go much further today. Aye, rest would be a well thing."

He's spooked!

Perception: 1d20 + 3 - 2 ⇒ (16) + 3 - 2 = 17

Initiative: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 2 + 1 = 12

"What in the name of Patrick and the saints was *that*!?"

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