The Sorcerer's Island (Inactive)

Game Master Michael Riter

"Finally, something I can agree with ye on!" The dwarf could barely contain himself during the duel, actually dodging from left to right as if the sword strikes were aimed at him, half rising from his seat several times to join the battle himself. With a huge grin Bromen pulls out a wineskin and pops it open, the dark heady smell of a strong dwarven stout noticeable even from a few steps away.

He raises the skin in salute to the two sparring partners. "To yer health, and to our success 'ere on this gods-forsaken island."

Wolfric's faces pales at Marcum's stiff reply. "No! I am sorry, Marcum. I meant 'thank you for agreeing to spar,' I did not intend to imply you lacked skill."

Rick slaps a hand to his face in embarrassment. Well done, oaf. Your best shot at a friend in years and you insult him. Typical.

When offered whiskey, Rick says formally. "No thank you sir. perhaps when I am more worthy of your honor, I will change my mind. Excuse me."

Rick turns to leave, intending to find the darkest hole in this ship and silently berate himself.

I may have written that all wrong. Marcum was in a good natured humor with that comment. Like saying, that wasn't humoring, that was my best! But let's roll with it. This'll be fun.

Marcum stops the man's departure. "My good Sir Wolfric, I say those words in jest only. Not as a rebuke. I gave you my best efforts and to countered with aplomb and skill. Come, share a drink. Seal the accord between us." He still holds the flask out to the man. "Besides yon island will afford us few opportunities such as these."

Rick flushes with new ebarasment, but composes himself quickly. "I.." He stammers then smiles. "I am sorry for misunderstanding. In truth, I really could use a drink about now."

Wolfric takes the drink and finds a seat on an unoccupied barrel. "I dare say you may have had my hands off with that first strike had you used you edge. I have never seen such speed from such a careful man."

He sips a bit too much whiskey and coughs a bit on the exhale.

"You've my grandfather to thank for that." Marcum accepts the flask back and takes a sip. He sits back and enjoys the burning liquid as it warms his stomach, quieting the growing nerves at the captain's announcement. "As soon as I was able to grasp a sword, he dragged me from my books and took me to the family yards... I've never ached so much since that first day of training. Over the years I grew to resent the time, especially when my parents insisted upon it." A wistful sigh and Marcum shows a modicum of embarrasment. "I didn't realize until later that they just wanted me to know him more. I didn't realize that until after he died." He rests a hand on the basket-hilt and continues. "My grandfather gifted it to me in his will. Stated that he was proud to see it go to my care."

In response to Brommen's toast, Marcum raises his flask. "Good fortune to all, may the forge fires of the all-father gird our armor and our gumption!" He inclines his head in respect to the dwarf's patron. "And may we elude the Lady's grasp for as long as long as body and breath and luck abide." He nods respect to Wolfric and Kehti.

Then lastly for Bolest. "May our guile and resourcefulness be in ready supply."

He sips his whiskey and stows it away. Then his keen eyes begin to drink upon the marvel of the approaching island.

A solemn look replaces the grin on Bromens face for an instant. "Forebearers or codes, all are beholden to somethin'.". His hand moves up to trace one of the runes on his breastplate.

"M'dad forged this for me. Not even sure I was out o' swaddling when he started it. Gave it t'me the day the oracles.....the day I left the clan. Haven't seen him in almost 2 decades but I feel his gaze every day. His ...... expectations."

He is silent for a moment before raising the skin again and looking to the pharasman. "Ye can do yer best to live up to that or ye can let the weight of it crush you. Here's t' letting the weight be damned.". He takes another swig.

Ye trying to convince him? Or yerself?

Gazing out at the island, Rick asks "Anyone care to wager on how long we can go before steel is drawn?"

"Good question. With the number of people already on that Island and the quality on the passengers, we may have to fight our way through some tomb robbers before even starting. The captain took on board every one who could pay, whether they were working with the Pathfinders or not and he's got another trip planned for a group of Osirioni Tomb explorers, who ever they may be. We're going to have to watch our back as well."

With a single hand, she flips open one of her quivers and extracts a beautifully crafted bow that she proceeds to string. From the same quiver, she extracts two wands. She loads the first one in a wrist sheath and presents the second one to the others. "Before coming, I raided the Keep stores and was able to bring that. It's a wand of lesser restoration that we usually bring with us on the most dangerous missions. I never could make one work but I know at least Sir Paxton and you master Nositel can. I'd like to leave it with one of you in case we need it in a hurry. I've also brought a lot of material like holy water, alchemist fire or antitoxin. So if you think there's something we need, just ask, I may just have it."

"Loathe though I am to say it, I think you ought to give it to the shadowy mister Nositel as my hands will likely be otherwise occupied."

Bolest slides out from the darkest shadow he could find on deck, and smiles, accepting the wand with a polite bow of his head. "I'll be sure to put this to good use. Do be sure to shout out if you're in need of my services on the battlefield." He gives a little grin, and looks to the two sparring combatants. "Looks like you both caught a few good bruises there. Would you like my aid, sirs?"

As he speaks, there is a slight motion on his chest, between his leather armor and the dark gray cloth he wears over it. He reaches up and places his hand on the chain which hangs around his neck, a white glow forming around his hand, and a slight purple glow seeping through the fabric of the cloth.

Bolest is activating his amulet to LG

The island can be stepped on at any time. I will leave the Roleplaying aspect of what you do now up to you guys. Though, when you are ready to head off to your primary objective, tell me so I could work some GM magic and let Andross find you.

"You're welcome", replies Kheti with a smile of her own.

As the boat finishes docking, she stares into the night behind the newly built town and docks. Once most of the passengers have exited the boat, she steps on the planks and walks down to the docks.

"What shall we do now? Our creepy guide said he would find us as we landed. So I propose we get out of town now before the sun rises. In the mean time, do any of you needs to get supplies? I mean, do we have enough food, ropes, digging tools, climbing gear and the like ?

"I am as ready as my purse allows. Let's be off, the sooner begun, the sooner done."

You might notice the movement of bats overhead. They stay around your general vicinity for some time, swirling around your heads, before they head off into the forest.

"I for one am in a quandary." Marcum tips his came in the direction is the new town. "I've a mind for scouting the competition already in country, get an idea of the difficulties they've encountered. At the same time I'd like to endeavour in keeping our full abilities and motivations hidden."

Then he looks to the forest where the swarm of bats flies. "Then there is the need, as Kheti has mentioned, to supply up and uncover our insertion into this madness while our guide can still navigation the outside world."

And then there is Pah-nel. If someone on the boat mentioned his name...that most likely means he is here...

"I normally eschew the hard tack frequented by adventurers, but I've room in my pack for quiet a bit for our sustenance." Marcum pats his satchel and smiles. "A magicked implement, holds more than it appears. I won it from a one-armed captain in Riddleport named Heregrihm...nasty Ulfen with a penchant for Khellish swearing..." Marcum gives himself a shake and grins again. "At any rate, if it is supplies we need, let us see what we can manage."

"What say the rest if you? Anyone interested in a little reconnaissance? Or do we stick with supplies only."

"Knowledge of what we ae to face would be a boon..."

Bolest nods in agreement. "I think information is most important to gather first. It will help us discern if we're missing any resources that we may require."

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Action/Skill List
》Perception: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (19) + 10 + (3) = 32
-- (conversations)
》Knowledge (nobility): 1d20 + 9 + 1d8 ⇒ (8) + 9 + (8) = 25
-- (private parties interested in the island)
》Knowledge (dungeoneering): 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (14) + 10 + (3) = 27
-- (types of gear being sold - see what has been experienced by others)
》Knowledge (geography): 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (7) + 10 + (8) = 25
-- (countries showing interest)
》Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 9 + 1d8 ⇒ (6) + 9 + (8) = 23
-- (religious orders in the area)
》Linguistics: 1d20 + 9 + 1d8 ⇒ (10) + 9 + (6) = 25
-- (peculiar languages or accents)

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He motions for the group to bunch up for discussion.

"I think we have the workings of a quick plan." He doffs his bowler hat and busiest himself with inspecting the brim. He surreptitiously outlines his thoughts to confirm their next steps but to also obfuscate intentions from those who might be observing. "Mistress Kheti, if you and Master Brommen would do the honors of scouting the supply stands and acquiring food stuffs, we can gain insight into what is in demand...and perhaps what sort of dangers await us." Marcum gives his satchel a tentative grasp, more to jog his memory as to what it contains than actual weight. "For food, might I suggest a mixture of hard tack and Dwarven rations. The proteins in the latter will serve us well. 7 days worth for a party of 5..." He fishes in his satchel and withdraws gold. "I'll gladly donate 45 gold to the cause."

Then to the others, "Sir Wolfric, Master Bolest, might I suggest a smidgen of subterfuge as we embark upon some reconnaissance of yon township?" He places the hat on his head, angling it forward. "I will represent a research concern from the Forae Logos in Absalom, Sir Wolfric can represent my requested protection during my investigations and Master Bolest can represent my consultant in the arcane." He glances to the paladin and adds. "Some practiced and minor deception, my friend. While there are possibly other Pathfinders here, they may not be friendly to our cause. And in my experience, no one is dismissed more quickly than a librarian in the field."

"I see they've already founded an establishment for consuming liquid spirits, why don't we meet there inside the next two hours?" He gives his hat a tap and thumps his cane on the ground. "Shall we?"

------If we're in agreement------

As they approach the town, Marcum explains to Wolfric and Bolest his method. "I'm seeking the common conversations, what travelers are saying of rumors and what those who've plumbed the mountain are saying. Then my attention goes to who is in town." He extends a hand and counts on each finger. "Religious orders, noble houses, national emissaries...even accents to uncover the cross section of those showing interest here. All of it tells a tale of what we might face and what we must bring to bear in order to survive."

--------

First Phase: Listening Just seeing what we can pick up. I'll present the cover story unless there are objections, careful to steer clear of those on the ship who might know differently. Figure we'll listen first and if someone talks to us, we can rp if needed.

"I will stand by silently, Marcum, but I will not lie if asked directly. If these terms are unacceptable, I will await you all here."

Wolfric's eye are apologetic, but his mouth is set and determined.

"Acceptable terms, my friend. I'll not ask more of you than what you're comfortable." Marcum grips the paladin by the shoulder. "If it eases your mind at all, I do plan on taking what I've learned back to the Forae Logos."

He smiles reassuringly and encourages him to come along. "Let's see what observation garners before we cross the rivers of misdirection, eh?"

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Given Wolfric's reaction, Marcum will come to the internal conclusion that "less is more". His revised story, if asked, is that they are on assignment, much as most are in this place, to investigate the island. If pressed further, he'll divulge they are on assignment from the 'Society'. We can rp if it comes up.

"Plan seems right t'me.....but I have no qualms about lying if you want to change things up a bit?"

"Either way, I've also got some coin to contribute to the cause."

And maybe find some o' that liquid sunshine our friend was going on about.....just in case.

You get no interesting tidbits from mere conversation, but when you focus in on particular subjects you can gather this:

~The main groups of people already here are Osirions, young Taldan lords, and various people from Absolom. No names of note though, but then again, people are still arriving so that may change in days time.

The gear you find is solely nonmagical at this time. Merchants dealing with magic items are said to also arrive in a few days, as their cargo is quite precious and must be transported with care, similar to that of the Numerians.

Lots of religious orders here, so there is quite a diversity. Most notably however, you notice a group of Asmodeans eating together and away from the main group, as they are not particularly welcome anywhere in the world outside Cheliax. Languages from all over, but the vast majority of people are speaking Taldane.

Meeting at the makeshift watering hole to compare notes (assuming we divulge all listed b the DM), Marcum looks to the others. "Shall we depart now? Our guide awaits and the mountain plays its siren sing ever so sweetly."

Marcum watches Bolest, curious as to his reaction to finding a Chelaxian embassy in the town.

Wolfric shrugs. "I doubt we'll get more than we have. We might as well try to beat some of the competition."

Wolfric shrugs. "I doubt we'll get more than we have. We might as well try to beat some of the competition."

Coming back carrying two big bags, Kheti drop them by the guys. "Right, I've got a little more of climbing gear and utilities. but there is not a lot except very mundane stuff. But I've got every thing I thought of."

Purchase list: 4 ropes, 2 spades, 2 pics, 10 pitons and two hammers and food for a week for 5: cost about 35 gold which Kheti will pay.

And ready to go.

Lets see what Bolest says before heading out.

When he has a chance to peel away from the subterfuge and work with Marcum, Bolest excuses himself and approaches the Asmodeans, looping his finger around the chain at his neck and pulling his amulet free only once he is almost to them. The amulet is a pentacle, forming the holy symbol of Asmodeus, and across it's center is a closed eye. His hand shimmers briefly, and the eye opens. Deactivating misdirection.

In a voice just loud enough to reach the group, Bolest calls out "Great is Asmodeus," as he approaches to within a few feet. "What news from Cheliax?"

Don't want to hold up the game, Bolest will try to get general news about the state of affairs in Cheliax, and will see if there are any agents there with instructions for him.

Bluff (To pass a secret message, to find any agents) 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22
Kn Rel (To make friendly conversation with his fellow Asmodeans) 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (7) + 13 = 20
Perception (To watch for people trying to detect him contacting an agent) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

Bolest only lingers for a few minutes, before returning to the group, scratching his neck and reactivating his amulet as he gets close. Reactivate misdirection, LG. "My apologies for the delay. I couldn't resist saying hi. How are the preparations?"

1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

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"Well done," Marcum acknowledges Kheti's work. "I'm sure we'll make good use of everything." He gives his satchel a pat. "I'll be happy to carry as much as is necessary. I've room for 80 to 100 lbs of supplies."

To the others upon Bolest's return. "I think we're prepared to set off on our grim exploration, yes?"

He spares a peripheral view of the Fetchling, curiosity on his mind. I wonder what messages or motivations you acquired from your countrymen... The Investigator logs the question away for later introspection and looks to the forest in the distance. For now we journey to meet our cursed guide.

He puts away his hat and readies to go. "As a basic assessment, Mistress Kheti, I would think you more than equal to the task of leading the way. I could assist with scouting the trail with you." Marcum looks to Brommen and Wolfric. "Our erstwhile warriors can bring up the main element with Master Bolest either with them or scouting our backtrail." He adjusts his satchel and pouches and grabs up his cane. "I only advise caution in the approach to our rendezvous because the air of..." He waves his hand in the air, searching for the right word. "...friendly competition isn't all that present amongst the denizens of this island."

He pulls on a pair of rough leather gloves then pulls a steel flask from the inner pocket of his coat, pulling the stopper and sipping before returning it. He then produces a brass fitted compass from a hip pouch and flips open the cover to take a bearing. "A satisfactory plan?" he asks as he calibrates the instrument.

--------

With that, you see the vague form of Andross pacing in the woods. He spots you all and waves, gesturing for you to follow him.

I believe that you are all ready to head out, so I will continue.

Moonlight shines down upon you all as Andross brings you along a natural path, explaining to you that as soon as the ship docked, he decided to get an overhead view of the island, and spotted the ruin you were set to go to. "It's really hard to miss you see, the rocks down there seem to be in the shape of a grinning face!

In fact, it would look something like this.

After about thirty minutes of walking, you eventually find that the jungle has started to clear, and you are presented with large flesh colored obelisks* which Andross tells you made up the grinning face formation that marked the spot you were supposed to search.

Strangely enough, when you look past the outermost obelisks, you notice that all the grass on the ground suddenly... stops. Everything beyond the point where the obelisks are seems dead in a sense and you even notice that the leaves in the air strangely never seem to be blown into the area.

Perception 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Rick slowly unlimbers the shield from his back and slides his arm into the straps. His hand on the war hammer at his belt, the paladin speaks.

"Hold!" he hisses in a loud whisper. "These mounds are constructed of flesh. Be on your guard."

"Vampire. What do you know of these strange constructions?"

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (2) + 13 = 15

Bromen is so busy studying the strange line between life and death to notice the constructs of the objects. At Rick's comment he takes a step back from the nearest one with a scowl.

The dwarf squints at the obelisk, focusing his attention on the thing as if he could force it to tell him its secrets, then slowly turns his head to scan the area ahead.

"Ye better answer his question, don't like walking into a trap...."

Use Detect Evil to answer the obvious question.

They do detect as evil.

Andross stares in obvious horror at the revelation. "I... I don't know. These things don't appear to be of anything I've ever studied."[/b] He wanders up to one, and not touching it, but simply gazing. "In fact, what I can say is this. This does not appear to be made out of the flesh of any creature on the Material Plane."

"So how is it here then?"

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Action/Skill List
》Perception: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 10 + (3) + 5 = 27 (Lens of Detection)
》Knowledge (planes): 1d20 + 9 + 1d8 ⇒ (12) + 9 + (3) = 24
》Linguistics: 1d20 + 9 + 1d8 ⇒ (17) + 9 + (6) = 32 if there's writing

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"How interesting in its macabre...it would seem we may have some clues as to where the lich-king has been..." Marcum steps to the edge of the clearing. He fishes a lens contraption from his hip pouch and uses it to study the obelisk. As he studies, he mentions matter-of-factly, "Master Andross, I note that all living things even the wind stops here. Is it perhaps your unfortunate nature that allows you to approach safely?"

Marcum signals behind him. "Master Bolest, any thoughts on what sort of magics we're seeing here?"

Marcum, this is something that not even YOU have ever seen before.

Kheti prowls at the border between the jungle and the obelisks, eyes and ears open to any signal while she considers the situation.

"I see two options. Either something kills everything within the limits or a piece of ground from somewhere else appeared or was called here and took the place of what was there before. Let's check how it reacts to something alive."

She selects a small bush just at the border and bends it so that it crosses the line. If nothing happens, she'll keep it like that and look if she sees any change in the leaves.

"That's what I think too, Kheti, but I am not the expert in these matters."

"Just be careful, and don't do anything drastic until we know more."

You do so... and it seems as if the leaves are perfectly fine.

When the bush seems to survive crossing the line unchanged, Bromen turns to Bolest. "Can ye tell if its some kind of magical barrier that'll keep doing this? Or did somethin' happen here?"

Almost unconsciously, the dwarf takes a step closer to the line but does not yet cross it.

Digging into the bag of supplies she just brought, Kheti takes out a spade and proceeds to remove the top 2 inches of the earth in a small patch just before the limit of the vegetation, making sure not to pass it.

Then, looking at the grass and plants she's unearthed, she checks if their roots have been cut by the dead zone or if they have just died.
She also look at the earth color on both side of the limit to see if it's the same and if the limit just caused everything to die within.

Perception: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (14) + 18 = 32
survival for the plants/soil structure: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (3) + 15 = 18
Kn nature for the plants/soil structure: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

She also tales the time to look round the perimeter for tracks of people who would have stepped in or out.

survival for tracks: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (11) + 19 = 30

No tracks but your own. As for the the dirt, you notice that the quality makes it seem as if there were two totally different types, and in fact they ARE two totally different types. As for the roots, they seem cut, rather than dead.

"Here an answer", says Kheti, showing the juxtaposition of the two types of soils. "These obelisks and what's under-it have been conjured, teleported, or summoned here. That's why there is nothing growing and the flesh there does not come from here. Maybe they and the whole thing come from a portal from Hell or the Abyss or another plane like that."

Still walking up and down the limit, she adds. "If I'm right, I think stepping over should not be an issue."

As you walk up and down the limit... Nothing happens, almost as if to illustrate your point.

Bolest looks at the obelisks curiously. "Hm. Nice fleshy obelisks they have here. You know, maybe it's just me, but something seems unusual." He grins a little to himself, and his eyes glow. Detect magic. Bolest moves around, studying the obelisks from multiple angles. He also focuses his gaze into the gaps between obelisks, to see if there are magical auras which emanate not from the obelisks but a different source.

Heal 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28
Spellcraft 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (18) + 13 = 31
Perception 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

Bolest stares at the obelisks for a bit, scratching his cheek. "I want to poke one of these with a stick. Hm. Maybe we should retreat a short way away and throw something at one to see what happens?" A grin starts to spread across his face again. "If that seems fine, then someone could grab a small animal - a squirrel or something - and toss it at the obelisks, see if they pose any threat to living creatures."

Bolest stares at the obelisks for a bit, scratching his cheek. "I want to poke one of these with a stick. Hm. Maybe we should retreat a short way away and throw something at one to see what happens?" A grin starts to spread across his face again. "If that seems fine, then someone could grab a small animal - a squirrel or something - and toss it at the obelisks, see if they pose any threat to living creatures."

"And what would you gain by 'poking them'? We're supposed to find an entry to where he is hiding, not find out if those obelisks bleed when we cut them. If you think they are the key to the entrance, then I would reconsider."

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Action/Skill List
》Perception: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 10 + (4) + 5 = 22 (Lens of Detection) - Drawing
》Disable Device: 1d20 + 16 + 1d8 ⇒ (10) + 16 + (6) = 32 - Finding a pattern

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Marcum pulls the soft leather strap from the lens housing and puts it over his head so the lens is in front of his right eye. Then he withdraws his journal from his satchel and a bit of charcoal.

"You both make excellent points..." Marcum steps into the area after Kheti's observation.

... (assuming nothing bad happens)...

"...but it is your comment, Fifth Sword Kheti, that intrigues me..." Marcum begins scrawling notes and drawing a diagram of the complex. He looks to the vampire when he is done. "If you will confirm my depiction is accurate as to your view from the air?"

... (assuming yes or necessary corrections made)...

"Now the idea of this island disappearing, then reappearing hundreds of years later with a part of it replaced by what could very well be Terra Inferni..." Taking the image he'd just drawn, Marcum scratches a crude rectangular shape around the whole lot. A few more details and the rectangular shape resolves into a door. He holds up the drawing for all. "If I were mad as a Brevish hatter, and I escaped with my most favorite abode...only to return to the place I viewed as the substandard dust of a forsaken land... I'd want to make sure the doorway to said abode had a nice, shiny...infernal lock to keep out lookie-loos and ne'er do wells."

Marcum studies the drawing to find a pattern, picturing in his mind a lock and key motiff. He also awaits the information Bolest uncovers to incorporate into (or dissolve) his theory.

More n' a few too many words, but it makes sense...

As Marcum sketches and talks the dwarf also moves into the area (assuming nothing had happened) and places himself between the investigator and the interior of the strange area.

"If yer gonna keep yer head down and not pay attention to yer back, let someone know, will ye?"

Marcum looks down to where he's standing and grins. "My thanks, Master Dwarf...I do commit my well-being rather brashly to my drawn conclusions... on occasion."

Wolfric laughs at Bromen's question. "My thoughts exactly, Bromen. We may have our hands full watching everyone's backs."

As an after thought, he adds, "This is all well over my head, so please, let me know if you need me to do something and I will help. Otherwise it's best to stay out of your way, I think."