The Sorcerer's Island (Inactive)

Game Master Michael Riter

I think Raphael is the only one left. Oh, this is great. Interestingly enough, the other group did something wrong in getting to the Tomb and ended up summoning a Glabrezu... so consider yourselves doing fine XD

Placed. *Crosses Fingers*

Great! So uh... as the door is opened, you get the feeling that someone had not exactly done her job correctly Kheti when she said she was explicitly going to search the ceiling. If she had (or if something had burned the webbing away) she would have noticed that the ceiling was made up of terribly ill fitting cobblestones, and that the slightest amount of disturbance (such as by opening a door that may or may not have held the keystone in place) was liable to cause the entire ceiling and the sand on top of it to tumble down...

So the last thing that you all can see before hearing this sound...

And you are buried under a rockslide similar to this...

Is a brick wall on the other side of the door, with this sign. (No, I kid you not, you see this sign).

Check out all three links to get the full story XD

Bolest can give me a reflex save to halve damage while Kheti can to negate damage. Everyone else takes FULL damage.

Ouch: 10d6 ⇒ (5, 4, 4, 5, 3, 6, 3, 1, 5, 2) = 38

Reflex Save 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22

Bolest looks toward the door, and as Marcum reaches out his hand, a voice screams from within his ear, from within a corner of his head, "MOVE!" He jumps backwards, startled (though maybe not soon enough to avoid being buried...). No. No. No. You're gone, I left you in Galt. You're gone. As the rocks crash over him, Bolest stifles a scream of terror, and his body goes rigid, nearly catatonic for a moment before his limbs jerk and his ability to move returns.

And in the next 6 seconds, as soon as he has time for a Standard:

His body immediately pulses with a bright white light, a purple glow emanating from under his shirt, leaking through at his collar. The light quickly glows outward, rippling over his companions. It was just the pain. Everything is fine now. No ghosts, nothing to be worried about. Beads of sweat form at Bolest's brow, as he surveys his companions. "Any limbs lopped off?"

Channel Positive Energy: 5d6 ⇒ (4, 1, 1, 4, 4) = 14
And um. Don't worry about the voices. Bolest is just... um... just fine.

reflex save: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (18) + 13 = 31

And she hears the noise, Kheti throws herself back, avoiding most of the stones and sand. Rolling back to her feet, she swears profusely before joining her voice to Bolest calling for anyone still alive under the sand and stone.

"Damn, damn , damn, why didn't I check to roof better. I knew there was something wrong with those webs.", she berates herself.

"Is every one okay?", she asks, trying to see through the flying sand.

Hey, don't lay all the blame on me, i rolled a 1 on my perception check :( And I proposed to use a rope to open the door.

I tease, I tease. Bolest, you fail, but feel you nearly made it (DC 25), while Kheti was able to avoid the trap unscathed.

88 - 35 + 14 = 67hp remaining

Bromen is so focused on the door that it takes him a moment to register Bolest's shouted warning. That is a moment too long as the stones begin to rain down on him. Damn you, Cloudus, yer Spellbane training forgot to include noticin' bad stonework like a normal dwarf!

He is staring at a nasty compound fracture as the wave of divine energy passes over him and begins to reknit his broken bones. Still wounded but certainly better off he looks around to reorient himself in the corridor. Moving slowly in an attempt to not start another rockfall the dwarf begins to dig his way toward where the investigator was standing.

"Everybody all right?"

Rick drags himself free of the loose rubble and limps back a safe distance. "Damn rocks fell right on my ankle."

The Paladin sets a hand to the symbol on his breastplate and mutters a quick prayer. "Not this day. Not yet."

Channel Energy 5d6 ⇒ (3, 4, 1, 3, 2) = 13

"That's better." Rick looks to Bolest. "I thank you for your healing, I just felt we could use a bit more."

And with this, you all hear a sudden shriek of laughter... However, like the whisper some of you may have noticed before, it is not from any place in particular, rather, in your minds. In seconds, it fades...

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Action/Skill List
》Escape Artist: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
》Healing: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21
》58 - 38 + 14 + 13 = 47

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He sees it happening in slow motion, the tunnel breathes in its last then exhales as it collapses down upon them. Marcum shields his eyes and tries to drop prone but everything happens so fast. I had a better tool for this...could have checked for integrity...

The roar of collapsing rock and sand fills his ears and drowns out his thoughts. All is darkness and choking dust. Distantly he hears Kheti calling out to them, checking for who needs aid.

...should have used the rope, old boy. Instead of spending time worrying about your name... Marcum wills himself to stillness and begins working on the escape techniques taught him by a crafty half-elf named Mal'undil. Shifting back and forth a cry of pain cuts through the rubble as he realizes his shoulder is dislocated...left hand most likely broken...left eye swollen shut...

Thanks to the Lucky Drunk I had the sense to put away my Lens...

A firm grip closes over his shoulder. Marcum jumps at the touch but manages to make out the form of Brommen attempting to aid in his exodus. Marcum nods graciously. "Seems as though *cough cough* I've found that the tunnel's structural integriyaa" His shoulder stabs into his mind with spears of pain. But he sucks in a breath and nods for Brommen to keep going. "On with it, my good dwarf. Don't let my mewlings dissuade..."

Seated atop the pile, Marcum gratefully receives the waves of healing from Bolest and Wolfric. The spears of pain diminish as the magical energies begin pulling the tendons and sinew together. There is an audible pop as his shoulder realigns. "My thanks to both of you." He works his left hand, noticing that while the bones have healed, it aches in concert with his shoulder. Marcum pulls a bandage from his kit to wrap his hand.

As he prepares to see if anyone else needs assistance his short-term memory catches up.

"Did any of you hear that maniacal cackling earlier?" He asks the group.

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As he prepares to see if anyone else needs assistance his short-term memory catches up.

"Did any of you hear that maniacal cackling earlier?" He asks the group.

"Oh yes I have. And I'm wondering who could be able to observe us unnoticed. And speak through our minds", replies Kheti, looking for their vampiric companion and checking his reaction to the positive energy.

Reaction? Do you honestly believe that I will allow him to be in the radius of your healing? XD

As the tunnel comes crashing down on all of you, Andross, who was safely outside the tunnel funny how that works, huh? and in fact, goes tumbling backwards due to the shaking of the ground. He quickly stands and goes rushing to you all, ripping the sand and rocks away, trying his best to free you all. "Oh gods above! Are you all okay! Please tell me you're alright!"

Upon seeing Bolest pull out his holy symbol in order to channel energy, his eyes open wide in surprise and jumps back a safe distance, partially because of his repulsion of holy symbols, and partially because he knew what was coming next.

Once everyone is free from the ruins, he turns to Kheti. "I do not know what could be watching us, but I do not like this one bit..."

A flash of realization washes over the Paladin. Was that the barbed pentangle!?

Rick stands too fast and winces on his injured ankle. Two quick strides bring him to Bolest.

"Your patron is the God-Fiend!? Rick spins back to the collapsed tunnel in frustration. Gods above of course it is!"

He whirls back, his surcoat flinging out on all sides. Finger pointed accusingly inches from Bolest's face, Rick snarls. "You can dispense your lies, son of darkness. My first look at you rings true now: evil through and through. One misdeed. One wrong step and I will smite you down and pray the Lady hold your soul in testate 'til the end of days!"

The fuming warrior points to Andross. "That goes for you too!"

Wolfric stalks some feet away from the rubble strewn entry. He keeps his back to the group and seems to tremble with rage, but in truth the tremble is less of rage and more of pain twinged shame and embarrassment.

When will you learn to control your feelings Rick? Where is my Anya now to tell me I am a fool?

The lies, Bolest? Rick is referring to you alignment strobe light. :)

Andorrs simply looks at the Paladin in astonishment. "I didn't..." Deciding it was probably not wise to speak with Wolfric at this moment in time, he shrinks away, looking mournfully from the group to his shoes. He keeps his eyes on the ground for quite a while, almost as if he'd lost something very important in the dust.

Eventually, he turns to Bromen, one of the few to not overtly show him hostility. "How do you think I offended him this time? I'm not very used to being around people. Was it that I didn't get hurt? Or perhaps it was because of my stumble? I don't... know."

Bolest sighs. "I thought we'd moved past this, Sir Paladin. I know you and I may not see quite eye to eye, but I'd hardly say I'm the son of darkness. Shadows, maybe, but that has more to do with planes." He grins a little, then his face turns somber, and he spreads his arms. "If I'm so evil indeed, then why don't you take another look at where my fealties lie. Worship of The First doesn't necessitate acts of unspeakable evil. But perhaps this isn't the time or place for religious debate."

Bolest shakes his head for a moment. "Is anyone still injured?"

Wolfric's shoulders slump and he slowly turns, a pained expression on his face.

"This whole endeavor is completely b!&$&~&s." He sighs. "I apologize Andross. I am uncomfortable around you, and your...unique position makes you, at best, a thorn in my side in terms of my oath to Pharasma. That being said, you have done nothing to deserve my ire. Please forgive me."

His expression hardens as he looks to Bolest. "You, on the other hand, I do not like. You are too smooth by half, and your aura is...inconsistent. I am resigned to the need for your talents, but I am not obligated to suffer your japes and false piety. I urge you to watch your step. I have been known to lose my temper from time to time when pressed to hard."

Rick holds up a hand to silence the Oracle. "Save your polished defense. I am not interested."

The Ustalavian seizes the nearest shovel. "Let's get this cleared."

Paizo censors the British slang for "balls?" I never knew that.

"How do you think I offended him this time?"

"He's a devout servant of the Lady that hates undead, and yer the thing that goes bump in the night. Had t'expect a little trouble, didn't ye?"

And how will I do when its me in that fix? Will I handle my nemesis as well as the knight does?

At Rick's words the dwarf focuses his attention on Bolest. "Yer right, he's a little shady, but if we're goin' up against an enemy that thinks like THIS -" he waves his once bloody arm at the mocking sign behind the door "then we need t'fight fire with fire."

Bromen fixes Bolest with an intense gaze. "I'm sure he'll behave."

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Action/Skill List
》Knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (16) + 10 + (6) = 32

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Marcum remains out of the conversation as Wolfric and Bolest and Andross navigate their respective natures. For the time being his thoughts dwell upon the laughter that had seen fit to enter and depart his mindscape without so much as a 'by your leave'. What's worse, the temerity of such an intrusion is far afield from Marcum's experience.

There are spells to glean the thoughts of men...to delve in their manner of death...even to implant thoughts or motivations... Marcum rolls through the knowledge he bears regarding the arcanic traditions, his old friend Fir'umil a good resource in his past endeavors. A simple spell for sending messages, but it relies on speech...the physics of auditory patterns... This, this is alien...

Marcum stirs himself and focuses on what he can control, leaving the unanswered questions to dwell on the periphery. "Perhaps the merging of our relative directions towards a single point may do our congress some good, eh?" He stands and retrieves his shovel from his satchel, joining Wolfric to find a passage through the rubble.

"First, what knowledge is among you regarding the ability to enter minds? We've found our guide is unfamiliar, but experience is gifted to 10 year old and 200 year old alike."

He looks about their location. "Second, the combination of subliminal laughter and the sign within the opening could be a twisted gaffe to turn us aside." He plants his shovel blade, wincing with the effort. "...or it could mean we've happened upon a false entrance. Perhaps a look around the area may be in order?"

Laying a hand on the paladin's shoulder, Kheti whispers "Peace Brother, keep you anger for the right fights. Remember our Lady does not judge the living and welcomes the souls of those who died before sending them to their destination. Only those who defy death are worth our ire"

Moving back to the building ruin, She grabs her spade back, extend her pole back and starts to sound the ground up.

"The architect of this trap and of the whole complex must have a sick sense of humor.", she swears as she moves to another location.

Position updated on the map. perception check: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (1) + 18 = 19

dot

Return dot

Also dot

also wik

Also, also wik.

Almost immediately after Lady Kheti speaks the words "sick sense of humor", the rest of you notice a black aura slowly rising about her, starting at her feet and then creeping up her armor. As this blackness continues she seems not to notice it and continues doing what she was... until she is completely enveloped. Once this happens, the blackness disperses almost as if a cloud of smoke, with Kheti... no longer inside. She is in Limbo and will be plopped back into the world once she posts

The cackle you all heard earlier returns, but this time, once it dies down, it is followed by words. "Oh, you all are certainly fun to watch, you are. My master was correct... visiting his former home -Golarion- was certainly bound to be amusing." For those of you who have never experienced telepathy before, the string of words appearing in your minds directly is certainly a peculiar, and perhaps an invasive feeling. Even if you have experienced it before... this time it feels vaguely alien.

"Don't worry about your friend. I'm just keeping her for such a short time. Sick sense of humor; how rude! My master and I would never be accused of such a thing!" The laughter now dies down completely and somewhere to the left of where you all are, sand blows outwards revealing a small crevice. "But perhaps enough of watching you squirm. The true entrance to my master's Tomb is over yonder. You DO wish to seek the entrance, do you not?"

Andross looks over to the blown out sand and you all follow, as I marked the spot on roll20 and frowns. "Would you look at this? What could have caused this sand to... move in such a manner?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

The dwarf grinds his teeth audibly as the group moves over to the newly revealed exit. "Looks like our....host...is enjoying watchin' us squirm a bit. Doesn't like our feelings on his humor, but I'm laughin'........." Let someone else worry about the corpse.

Bromen stares at the new entrance for a moment, clearly deep in concentration, before taking a few steps into the opening.

Activate Detect Evil (as if I didn't already know) then a 5' step forward through the threshold, unless he sees anything unusual with .....

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28

You don't detect any evil surprisingly enough (or at least, not in your 60 foot cone). If you clear a larger hole to peep through,you would see this:

Light from the entrance shows this tunnel is extremely long and heavily decorated in a riot of bright colors and patterns. The walls and ceiling have been coated with plaster and painted with a variety of unusual scenes featuring strange rooms, odd creatures and exotic locations. The floor is decorated with mosaic tilework which features an obvious “path” of bright red tiles that wind across the ground. Not a hint of the original stonework is visible under the heavy decoration.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (14) + 10 + (3) = 27

Marcum tries to remain calm in the face of Kheti's disappearance. He shares Brommen's sentiment, however. "What sort of madness brews in this place. All the long years to spend to grow in power and insanity." There comes a point when one must accept what is and what isn't. Marcum sighs and draws his rapier, approaching the new opening. (I think his Darkvision is still in effect?)

"Be aware, Andross, there is a presence crawling around in our thoughts." He glances the vampire's way, eyebrow arching. "It would seem whatever enchantments peculiar to you are keeping your mind safe."

He searches the ground and walks and ceiling, attentive to possible traps or other dangers.

Perception: 1d20 + 13 + 1d8 ⇒ (15) + 13 + (5) = 33

Bolests brows raise, and it seems even his usual humor is dampened by these foreboding signs. "Chaos fills this place... Gird yourselves against it's corruption." He shakes his head, drawing his mace and moving to follow the others.

"I'm more worried about more fallin' rock than yer corruption at the moment." Brave words but there is far less bravado in the voice speaking them.

"What do ye think, stay on the path? Or based on that last corridor, do we stay off it?"

By the Forge, give me somethin' t'hit instead of this trickery!

Marcum, would you kindly put an S in the area you would like to search? I just revealed the area. The red rectangles you see represent the murals on the walls and the red path is well... the red path.

Marcum follows the pathway, eyes searching for traps as he places each step. [ooc]Moved my meeple... he'll follow the pathway, studying the murals as they go.

"Let's look at it practically, chaps. No need to get so dark just because we've had rocks fall on us, a disembodied voice invade our minds...and one of our number disappeared." He gestures to the murals as they go. "While the landscapes might be alien to us, perhaps they will yield clues by studying them as a pattern."

Knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 9 + 1d8 ⇒ (5) + 9 + (2) = 16 (depictions of magical practices?)
Knowledge (geography): 1d20 + 10 + 1d8 ⇒ (2) + 10 + (3) = 15 (similar places I've seen in the murals?)
Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 9 + 1d8 ⇒ (9) + 9 + (3) = 21 (myths related to the strange creatures depicted)
Disable Device: 1d20 + 16 + 1d8 ⇒ (11) + 16 + (8) = 35 (discerning a pattern to the murals and the floor stone decorations that might lend some insight)

Marcum, the mosaic on the east is simply that of cows grazing on a field. The one on the west seems to be that of a wizards workroom, however, when you look more closely you notice that the incredible detail of the paintings hid something from casual observation that now seems obvious. A pair of robed, wolf headed figures are painted on the wall, holding an elaborate bronze chest between themselves. However, the chest is no painting, but an actual box embedded within the plaster, extending only a few inches from the surface.

I should mention this. For now on a single perception check covers a ten by ten area in front of you with either one of two directions: upwards from where you normally look and downwards, so if you wish to search for traps, you should specify floor or ceiling or simply make a check for both

There are no specific magical acts you can tell from these murals nor are they depicting a specific region. The wolf headed figures, however, seem like something vaguely Osirion, however, not exactly.

And with your DD check, you figure that the winding of the path is random, BUT you notice that not everything is what it seems to be. Something seems... different about those red tiles.

This is the scene, by the way

Marcum dabs at the box in the wall. "A clever inset in this macabre depiction..." He fishes out his thieves tools, sheathing his rapier in the process. "Let's see what it's all about, eh?" As he's looking down at which tool to use, he notes the tiles.

"Hmmm, these tiles appear rather odd..." Out of his hip pouch he pulls the Lens of Detection to aid in the search.
Perception: 1d20 + 13 + 5 + 1d8 ⇒ (8) + 13 + 5 + (5) = 31 (inspecting tiles)

Once done with the tiles he goes back to determining if the box can be removed safely.
Disable Device: 1d20 + 16 + 2 + 1d8 ⇒ (15) + 16 + 2 + (4) = 37 (+2 mwk tools)

Let's start with the tiles shall we? As you get a closer look at the tiles you notice that there are strange foreign letters embedded into the tiles -letters that you have never seen before-. Before your eyes, they begin to shift and change shape into the more recognizable Taldane script you are familiar with. As you look, the letters read a message of sorts:

With your amazing perception, you realize that the bolded section appears as if it were written by a different hand than the first lines.

Now onto the box. You realize that it would be easy to remove the box from the plaster. In fact with your disable device check you realize that were you to attempt to open it within the wall, it would set off a trap causing something (likely a poison dart or something similar) to shoot from the wall and pierce your hand.

Bromen carefully follows in Marcum's footsteps, trying to cover his companion while staying out of his way while making every effort to place his feet exactly where the investigator did. A part of his brain wonders if he can succeed in all three at the same time.

"'Find the false ye find the true'.....Thinkin' this is another trap and we're s'posed t'head back to the dead end? Didn't see a way through but maybe we missed somethin'?"