The World's Most Interesting Voice in the Void (CORE 001) (Inactive)

Game Master Great Green God

Lol

"OH! Smats! Best me be punchy..." remarks the dwarf. With a quick jab, his throbbing toes reminding him of his previous attempt.

Theodic and Smiler bring everything they've got to trying to maul the animated bit of granite only to abrade its finish.

Sorry Volar that should have been "club = ruined" but that's okay we'll say there was a handy wooden Andoren arm laying on the floor for him to used.

damage v wooden Andoren arm: 3d6 - 5 ⇒ (6, 3, 4) - 5 = 8 And it is completely ruined too.... Before you ask the other one is still attached to the rest of the statue that and someone seems to be shooting a crossbow at it.

But Banon lost in his revenge fantasy against Nigel and Hestram, scores a really telling blow without bending his weapon out of shape.

damage v falchion: 3d6 - 10 ⇒ (3, 2, 2) - 10 = -3

1d4 ⇒ 3

The caryatid takes a swipe at Banon before moving into a defensive position beside the doorway.

white longsword v Bannon: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14 damage: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 Miss!

Round 5! (Theme ♬)
The Bold May Act!
_________________
__ Theodic
__ Monterey
__ Banon
__ Volar ruined 2nd club
__ Smiler
__ Durvak -7 hp (per-emptively gone already)
__ Caryatid columns (gray down; white -26 hp)

Map updated.

"No, we'll get you!" *Wheeze*

Standard Action
He swings again with all his might.
Greatsword Attack (Power Attack, Fatigued): 1d20 + 8 - 1 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 8 - 1 - 1 = 21
Greatsword Damage (Power Attack, Fatigued): 1d10 + 5 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (10) + 5 + 3 - 1 = 17

Hardness 12, HP 5

damage v jumbo shrimpsword: 3d6 - 12 ⇒ (3, 5, 1) - 12 = -3

Before Theodic can shoot anyone, Monterey swings his blade in a wide, wild arc at the statue's ankles, bringing the statue crashing down, adding to the priceless rubble on the floor.

End Combat

This leaves the way open to the door beyond. The door is labeled with a placard that reads: SCRIPTORIUM ~ Quiet Please.

What would you like to do?

Leaning on the hilt of his falchion, Banon breathes deep, rapid breaths. Shaking his head back and forth, a spot of spittle flies to the floor before he wipes at his mouth. "That...wasn't so bad." he mumbles. "We, uh...going forward? Just need a second..."

"I SAY, EVERYTHING OKAY!? IT SUDDENLY WENT QUIET DOWN THERE!?" Nigel shouts from the top of the ramp.

Your pet guardian gave us a bit of problems he replies, annoyance in his voice.

"WE'RE FINE DOWN HERE, EVERYTHING IS FINE. HOW ARE YOU?" Banon yells back, gripping his blade tight.

Your pet guardian gave us a bit of problems he replies, annoyance in his voice.

There's a long pause. "'PET'!? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT MAN!? CEREBUS IS UP HERE WITH ME! Aren't you, boy? Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy? Where are your toys? Go get your toys! Go get 'em!"

Another pause, followed by three, loud, near-simultaneous squeaks.

"GOOD BOY! THERE AREN'T ANY GUARDS DOWN THERE, EXCEPT THE MEN I SCENT IN LAST NIGHT!"

"WE'RE FINE DOWN HERE, EVERYTHING IS FINE. HOW ARE YOU?" Banon yells back, gripping his blade tight.

"ARE YOU SURE? I HEARD A LOT OF NOISE DOWN THERE, AND SOMEONE SAID SOMETHING ABOUT HITTING THE STATUARY! THERE HAD BETTER NOT BE ANY DAMAGE TO THE ARTIFACTS DOWN THERE!! MAYBE PUT THE GORILLA OUT FRONT! HE SEEMS THE PLUSHEST!"

Thank you for allowing me the attack anyway GM.

"Smiler is not plush! You keep your taxidermy plans to yourself mister!" yells Volar.

"Stupid statues broke my favorite club.." he mutters to himself as he drops the club where the ruined statues have fallen. He gets his dagger out for now so he can still use his shield.

Sorry bout jumping ahead gm...was in a rush this morning and thought I was holding up the combat. :-P

Glancing to each companion in turn, he grants them his toothy smile. "Alls gud, yeah? We go den." Yelling up the stairs, he advises Nigel "YAS NEED CUPPA NEW STONERS 'ERE. BUT WES OH KAY!"

He will wait for Banon's Fatigue to wear off before going forward

Without another word, he thrusts the door open and (Assuming it doesn't explode) steps inside. Holding a hand up for the others to wait, he glances around.

Shall we be on our way? he suggests

The door opens on a dark, vaulted chamber. Bare wooden shelves, empty except for some extra writing supplies (sheets of parchment, bottles of ink, and quills), line the eastern wall, and three desks with high stools stand in the center of the room between six columns. A small sign on the far southern door reads “Archives—Private”. Another door sits in the center of the eastern wall.

A body lies slumped in the southwestern corner, still clutching a truncheon. A trail of blood leads from the body back to where the rest of the party is standing. A broken lantern lies next to the body, its oil spilled on the floor.

Map updated.

"Wonder who the unfortunate one is." Monterey steps in along with the others and takes a quick look for anything hidden.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

"Is this one of our missing guards? I wonder if the trail of blood is his last effort to crawl away from danger?"

Volar has an idea as he looks at the truncheon. He picks it up and weighs it in his hands to see how similar it is to his trusty old club.

What type of weapon is the truncheon?

Spotting the corpse at the far end, the dwarf calls out "Hold ya-self! Irori's man be acommin!"

Whispering a prayer to himself, he points a finger at the corpse. White beams of light branch out from the tattoo on his face and shoot down his arm before spiraling across the room. The connect with the downed man and illuminate him in bright light, if for but a moment.

Glancing around for potential enemies, he takes up a defensive stance and creeps deeper into the room.

The man wears the bronze, black and yellow livery of the Blakros mercenaries.

Durvak's magic doesn't seem to help. The man is obviously dead. The corpse's legs are draped in a mass of green, purple and egg white glistening fungus like a quilt. Turning the man over loosens the bottom half of his legs from the rest of his body. The growths and a pasty black mould punctuated with slimy white filliments seem to dot his body in corrosive patches, opening wide black lesions in his flesh and have robbed him of the side of his face that had been mashed to the floor.

The truncheon is a black, lacquered, wooden baton--basically a very nice club, at least compared to the usual sort.

The two northern most desks stand empty and disused but the southern most desk is buried in folios, codices, scrolls and books, some of which are piled on the floor around it.

A ghastly way to die he comments and then casts detect magic

"Wes gun need ta give 'em proper rights. Fer now lets ensure all safe-like." remarks the dwarf with a solemn shake of his head. Moving towards the piled desk, he does a precursory search of the materials.

"Guessen 'e were doin readin an such, yeah? Whatsee whatcha lookin fer."

After looking over the materials, he moves to the southern door. "When yas ready. We gun go."

Finally catching his breath, Banon follows after the rest of the party. Winding steps bring him along the shelves, giving them a glancing over, before approaching the body. "Sorry, man. Nigel sent you in to something ya couldn't handle. Ain't fair, I know." Looking around, he frowns. "What the hell killed him? Not the statues, fer damn sure."

"Something really weird killed him. Fungus growths, and mold? Poor guy. Not much we can do for him though."

Monterey heads over with Durvak, ready to move on.

"A pretty ugly way to go, whatever it was that got him. At least his body has warned us of something we haven't seen that. I'll drink to your aid when we get out of here buddy." says Volar as he raises an imaginary tankard to the deceased man.

Volar gets Smiler to follow and protect him again and moves over with Durvak at the south door.

Durvak notes the difference between the two northern desks, each topped with a small, empty candelabra, two bottles of dried ink, and old quill pens, and the southern-most one—the candelabrum holds the stubs of half-burnt candles, the ink bottles are still wet, and fresh ink stains the quill pens. A handful of books and scrolls, treatises on the solar system and the empty space beyond, lie open on the desk. There are underlined passages and marginalia written in a language no-one present recognizes.

Hello. Durvak notes a bit of parchment that fell beneath the desk and was forgotten. Written in the same hand, and tongue as most of the notes in the texts. There are sketches of a column or cylinder-shape at the very least and others of semi-circular or archway, as well as what look like ancient Osirian symbols.

Durvak You found the scrap of paper so you get to choose whether share it, or try to keep it secret, take it home, and place it in your private shrine to Tawil at’Umr!

Theodic Nothing here registers as significant magic itself, there are a few lingering transmutational energy signatures upon some of the texts, most-likely there to keep them from disintegrating from age and exposure.

Volar are you taking the dead man's nice shiny club? It is a 'club' in the game mechanic sense of the word, and would work for your shillelagh spell, though you would probably ruin the lacquer finish.

If anyone wants to figure out what the man actually died from that requires a close examination, and a heal check, and a powerful constitution. The body smells like fungal-infested sweet meats.

He is not a healy type of guy, lol

Snagging the paper, he turns to his companions. Scrunching up his eyes real tight, he thumbs his beard a moment. "Hmm...get me napkin 'ere wicha scribbles onnit." he advises the group. Slowly walking towards Smiler he nods "Yas seem smat...but no talky..."

Turning towards the druid, he holds out the note. "Ya teaches smat furry...ya much smats?"

Once Volar accepts the note, he wanders back to the downed foe. "Haven me-a wook-see 'ere....Yep. He wit Pharas-enema."

Without another word, he makes his way to the door and prepares to opens it, poking his head into the room.

Let us be on our way, the time passes he says. He readies to see what is behind the door.

I'm not getting anywhere near that body... Monterey opens the door.

We might get a disease from the body, lol

Durvak twists the door handle and pushes open the door sweeping aside a carpet of multi-tiered, saucer-shaped fungus. The room was once a library but now is a garden of alien, bio-luminescent mold and fungi of all description. The fungi sprout like trumpets and bells on every surface. The mold flows like frozen, black waterfalls from every shelf. Black rivulets dangle from the ceiling like fleshy stalactites. Many give off light in long dull pulses that mix together to bathe everything in a nauseating dim purple. The air is warm, and moist, and makes you want to cough, and is full of floating bits of fluff like snow.

Suddenly startled, Durvak spins back to look at the party.

Sorry Monterey, Durvak had dibs and position on door opening. It just took me a while to get the post formatted. You can get the door. If you dare! ;)

Conditions beyond what is noted on the updated map, the fungal bio-luminescent lighting in the room is dim.

Theodic don't forget to move your token (and the general placement of your dancing lights if you continue using them). If you can't manipulate the maps you might need to get Google slides (free!) for your device.

What do you do?

Knowledge (nature, Take 10): 10 + 7 = 17

"Well that's just not right." Volarbot says looking into the chamber with his collar drawn up over his nose and mouth.

"Ook." agrees Smilerbot.

Volarbot explains that he doesn't think the fungus inside is native to this world.

"Gross." Monterey isn't volunteering to be the first one in there.

If the fungus is bright enough to provide light then he can dismiss the dancing lights

I moved him next to the door,

Spinning around with such quickness, it's hard to believe it's the same dwarf. "Whooosit..." seeing nothing but his companions behind him, he scrunches up his face and looks to each. "Wich un pokded me, eh? Dun be fibben nahow." After none admit to it, he shrugs "Mayhaps twas 'rori."

Looking into the room again, he kneels in the doorway. "Tis ah-ful purdy..." slowly he reaches forward to touch the fungus.

LOL

Durlo, "the fungus" seems to be several varieties of alien fungi, where from, Volar (at least) cannot tell.

Theodic remember, that while there is dim light in the archive thanks to the various glowing fungi, there is no light in the scriptorium.

Durlo, "the fungus" seems to be several varieties of alien fungi, where from, Volar (at least) cannot tell.

Edit: It as a whole is not targetable by Lorekeeper.

Durvak and Monterey notice some movement in the fungal garden. A strange luminescent caterpillar puttering around upon a large leafy blob in the lee of one of the shaggy book selves. The creature kicks up sparking spores like tiny, weightless glass shavings in it's wake that tumble up into the violet air like dust motes in a sunbeam.

Suddenly, a voice speaks. It doesn't seem to come from anywhere in particular just the hearer's head--which is everyone. Who... are... you? The voice is stilted, and rough. It sounds the way rock would sound if rocks could talk.

At the same time images of squat bloated devils appear and disappear near the spot where the insect is grazing. One moment they are devils the next they are Orisian golems, or undead gill-folk their gills working despite the lack of water now they are dressed like the legendary jeweled sages, and now they are sewer goblins wearing the cold metal mask of Razmir, they are Razmirian inquisitors hunting you, they are thugs in a tavern, a bunch of bananas, Drandle Dreng, a big snake, wizened old Amenopheus, a leering worm-thing in priest's cassock standing on the ceiling, an ill-tempered camel, a grinning bugbear with a poleaxe, bickering merchants, rival treasure hunters, whatever that thing was with that Igor fellow, monkeys, lots of monkeys! Hestram, a raging minotaur chasing you all into the blades of the caryatids, and on, and on!

Who are you? the voice demands, its diction only slightly more fluid.

Looking around for a source of the voice, a dim candle suddenly flickers over the dwarves head. "Irori?! So gud ter hear ya! Ya knows me 'course. I is Durvak, yas face-ful servant."

Considering the possible reasons his god may not recognize him, the flicker candle goes out. "Ah, tis beard. Aye needen ter wash 'er. Me busy slappifyin mooseum dee-splays. Is you 'ere physical like? Me 'ike ter see ya!"

ok He will keep the lights up then

Know arcana 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24 to see if he knows what is going on.

"My name is Monterey. Who are you? And what are you doing?" Monterey seems slightly annoyed.

That is a name? What is a name?

Who are you?

"Ook oook ooook. Ooook ook ook-ook!" yells smiler at the unseen voice.

If you understood the complex ape language that is a very deep and meaningful description of who Smiler really is. I'll not ruin it by trying to translate.

Volar wonders what the hell Smiler is "ooking" about, but he answers the voice for himself.

"I'm me. I'm my name, my family and my past. Whatever i do each day changes me yet i still remain me. I go by Volar, by the way. It's polite to introduce yourself and show people who you really are. If you don't mean me and my pals here any harm then lets all get together, find the missing people down in this building and go grab an ale or two." says Volar to the unseen voice he heard in his head.

He mutters a little under his breath to Theodic who is nearest. "I'm sure it won't be that easy, but it's worth a shot eh?"

"I am apparently Nigel's dog." Banon mutters darkly.

He is still trying to figure out what has happened to the area.

"OOoo ya geetin all filosophied and such? Hmm...me kin to." remarks Durvak, his eyes squinting tightly.

"A name...name be o little import, save kin know who be who. Call meh Skip if ya'd like. Jess no call meh later fer dinnah. HA ha" remarks the dwarf.

"Wich bath kin smell sweet. Nowoh, me no smell ter sweet. Sporu...Spora....Durvak dunno dat one. We's be Nigel's clean'ahs an searchahs. He's lost friends down hee-yah. Ya wanna 'elp us?"

Perhaps it is the seemingly near-transparent quality of Durvak's mind, or maybe his simplicity of speech rather than Smiler's rather grand rhetorical style and jokes about bananas that convinces the voice to reveal itself.

The caterpillar spins around twice when suddenly the toadstool it is sitting upon's cap splits open along the top revealing a set of spiny teeth. The glowing caterpillar disappears, and the fungus it had been sitting on lifts itself up on five thick, fibrous stalks, and tottles closer waving a pair of long, fleshy, vine-like arms. The fungus-thing is shrouded in ghostly images of events seemingly taken from events in each of the party-member's pasts, but mixed in with everyone elses' memories as well in a sort of nonsensical spectral stew. It is all very distracting.

'Do-ing'? It is a temporal query.
To perform (an action, the precise nature of which is often unspecified) or perhaps used before a verb (except be, can, may, ought, shall, will) in questions and negative statements, or a sort of hairstyle.
What is 'hairstyle'?
Names. Titles. Identifiers. Chemical scents.
If you go by a Volar in the forest does it make any sound?
What is the capital of Cheliax?
Who let the Banon out? WOOF! WOOF!
What are electric sheep, and why are they always dreaming?
Can the circumference of the moon dream of rain and fish?
Queries. Interrogative statements. Questions.
What is self?
Where is this in relation to known parameters of time/space?