This is a non-Campaign to Test Stuff

Game Master Tacticslion

So!

Here we are!

A test campaign to test stuff~!

HAH~!

Suck on that success, my currently-at-the-time-of-posting-this-bad-Internet-service~!

This will be the place where various gameplay is tested.

Sometimes this will be to test group cohesion and work, sometimes weird game concepts, and sometimes other things - if it ever gets used all that much.

If you hang out here and start to see some weird things, like a suddenly shifting cast or roster of people, now you know why.

And here we goooo~!

FIRST~!

Hmp.

Harumph.

Well, I suppose it was to be expected - this is the Internet after all.

Now that we've got that nonsense out of the way...

... we're here to start a game that focuses on a series of events that happens around ~600 years before Rise of the Runelords.

In this case, it's a gestalt game, where the characters gestalt a full 20-level class, a prestige class, and get two specific class features from a third class, along with some hazy quasi-memories from a person who was that third class. This is a (relatively short) quasi-dungeon-crawl prequel-game to establish something hidden in the background stuff going on behind the scenes in our RotR game.

In some regards, it's a bit of a "Monty Haul" in terms of some very rare and valuable assets being dropped on the players - in other ways, however, these "rare and valuable assets" aren't necessarily going to be much more than, "Stuff that lets them play the game in a basic and accurate way."

And now...

The long trip from the elven village had been simple, but taxing.

There was nothing powerful adventurers like yourselves couldn't handle, and certainly nothing mandating a guide... especially not one like Erevel.

What an unpleasant character.

Cold, bitter, and never one to pass up the opportunity to point out your shortcomings, the man was about as charismatic as a spastic lump of pulsing fungus found growing on the back of your hand one day - the difference being you could always chop your hand off, kill it with fire, and cauterize your own wound. Erevel was much harder to get rid of - technically, speaking, he was even necessary for your job, as he was not only an escort, but a guarantee of sorts.

A combination baby-sitter and baby-sat, he was the one that reported your progress to the council, and it was by his good word that your (extremely large) reward was secured - and if it turned out that you couldn't rescue the elven noble's daughter (for whatever reason), he was the one who would vouch for you. You'd been warned that he was an extremely unpleasant fellow, but that his scrupulous unflinching honesty was a kind of guarantee both to you and the elves - he may be full of (often false) insults, but he'd never lie about a person in a binding agreement; much as that was to pretty much everyone's chagrin at some point or another (including himself), it had garnered him great respect in the community: if he swore a testimony against you (instead of just an insult), it was guaranteed to be true, and that was a damning testimony. The elven council would have to pay up, if he vouched for you, and he would, if you succeeded. That didn't make having him along for the journey any easier. And his constant grinding of your "issues" (as he saw them), and complaints wore on your patience - even with each other.

The day you finally arrived at the site of the disappearance was an especially difficult one. A long climb through a series of rough hills and stinging nettles and foul stenches culminated with finding... a ring of standing stones. All of the rest had made Erevel extremely uncomfortable - he had gone on and on about how things didn't used to be like this... but it was very hard to tell if he was talking about 'back in his day' or 'very recently' (and any attempts at pinning him down on the issue simply made him mutter in irritation to himself). The jerk.

Arriving at the rings itself was almost like a joke. This was the 'ancient ruins' you were supposed to be looting? There was literally a circle of standing rocks on a nettle-covered hill. That was it. And then it started raining. Again.

At Erevel's advice, you camped for the night. And then, just after you fell asleep, everything churned and you found yourself collapsed in a heap on top of each other on a stinking, fetid beach in the middle of the same stones, same storm, same time of night... only everything else had changed...

"You useless, miserable, incompetents~!" berated the elderly elf. "What level of moronic instability ensures that you pack everyone together so that when we shift we end up on top of each other! What in the actual ****ing nine ****ing hells were you ***-****ed numbskulls thinking?!"

Sigh. He struggles off the top of the lot of you - of course he and his stuff had been on top of everyone else.

"Miserable idiotic foolish... - wake up, and untangle my stuff-! We need to keep our wits about us, here, fools!"

Feel free to converse with a post or three. The entire region is dark and soaking with torrential downpour, though you can treat about ten feet around you as visible with low-light vision - five feet without. You can tell you're at a beach (surf is crashing nearby, and lapping at whoever is on the bottom - the last person to post here), while the sand of the beach feels sticky and nasty. With darkvision, you can see the beach extends for twenty feat up that way, before rising into a series of hills - and everything is a sticky mess. You're in the midst of menhirs nearly identical to the ones you obviously just left - except these have a few stone mantles laying across the top. You can't see beyond the hills.

Inarus wakes up groggily to the lecture,"Whuut..?"."Hey I don't usually wake up to a lecture..." He mumbles, as he wiggles himself out of the pile, dislodging Golan, Usawoti and Erevel in the process.

He shakes his head to clear the sleepiness, and also turns angrily to face Erevel, now wet from the pouring rain. "Dude. YOU were the one who suggested that WE slept in the mehir stones." He puts his hands on his hips and glares at Erevel. "You CONVENIENTLY FORGOT to tell us we would be teleported somewhere else." He stomps his foot angrily. "Withholding important information like that could get us all killed." He returns the scolding kind for kind. "If you happen to get squished, you only have YOURSELF to blame." He stomps off to pick up the Elven supplies and sets up a tent for everyone else, taking the night watch.

"I'll have you know that I've been taking more then my share of the night watch as well." Inarus grumbles. "And if we're going to be teleported in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, the next time I get to the elves I'm going to get a page of spell knowledge for Keep watch for Golan."
Ring of sustenance, I only need to sleep 2 h per night.

Inarus looks at the torrential rain and curses inwardly. 'Where the hell are we? There are no stars to navigate by, even. Not that I was very good at it to begin with, Golan and Usawoti are a lot better.' Take 10 for knowledge geography DC 22, any idea where are we by looking the beach?

Nope! You've no clue!

It's a good question, though, as stinky-sweet warm winds seems to be colliding from one direction with differently foul-smelling bitterly cold from another, creating the uncomfortable wind, bad smell, and rain you're all experiencing.

Any knowledge checks to identify the stinky sweet warm winds? Take 10 Knowledge nature 23 if it helps, it could actually be from some kind of flower...or maybe decaying matter?

Those are both accurate!

the trip
Enjoying the late afternoon in the hill country they are riding through. Watching the hawk flying above, patting his horses neck. I have always enjoyed traveling with Shuvuu and Mope. My new companions have made it more pleasant. Inarus is a facinating half-orc, much different than my people could imagine, he is educated and quite articulate. Also, this Golan fellow, what a very interesting creature, the Strix’s physiology is not what I expected, not at all demon like. What a beautiful land I can see why the elves would stay here, it’s a shame or elven companion isn’t as pleasant. At least I can avoid him while I’m scouting, not that they needed me to scout with Golan flying above, but it is a good habit and good habits should be kept.’

Having been scouting ahead, as much to get away from Erevel as to familiarize with the lay of the land, he rides up in time to hear the Elf belittling Inarus. ”There is a circle of standing rocks ahead. Then looking at Erevel he lectures, ”Erevel, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” Having given Erevel wise counsel he shifts his knees signaling Mope to the back of the column.

The camp
Having set up the cold camp in the stone circle Usawoti attempts to get Mope to go graze on the hillside but the horse insisted on staying nearby. ”Well it’s up to you, but don’t complain to me, this if this grass is all you get.” then noticing that Shuvuu had landed on one of the stones, instead of a nearby tree down the hill. ”You too?” Laying the saddle blanket on the ground, Usawoti curls up, his ruck-sack as a pillow covering himself with his cloak.

Awaking in a pile, Usawoti immediately looks to see if his animal companions are still near. As he separates himself from the group, making sure he doesn’t step on Golan’s wing. Rolling his eyes as the grumpy elf starts to fuss and lecture. ”Erevel, please, calm yourself, ‘one cannot keep their wits, while they are throwing fits’.’ Taking Erevel’s recommendation, Usawoti begins to gather his gear as he looks around the beach.

Tacticslion, Golan or Inarus, does anyone else have a mount? It’s ok if Mope stays on the other side of the gate if everyone else is unmounted, it doesn’t sound like there are horse in the pile. If possible I hope that Shuvuu the hawk familiar made it.

Both are with you - but the hawk is not going to be flying in this weather! (For his sake!)

No mounts for me. I belong to Druid Local 704. At this kind of high level, any random fireball will kill anything other then an animal companion. I will not do that to any sentient creature...I suppose we could use Phantom steed but I think we'll get there when we get there(so no rush on mounts).

"Usawoti? You're up?" Inarus walks into his tent and greets him.(hopefully without knocking it over) "Sorry about the weather, was hoping that you guys could stay out of the rain...and catch up on your sleep."

"Did I set up the tents right? I tried following what I've seen both of you do.." He looks at his handiwork uncertainly (Yeah ask the guy with on ranks in survival to set up a tent). "Do you know where we are, Usawoti? I have no idea," He looks out onto the torrential rain. "I don't know if we should explore the place, or should we wait till morning."

um, Usawoti didn't pack a tent, but he could be sleeping in one the elves provided?

geography: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (8) + 15 = 23

Usawoti awakens quickly, "The tents are assembled well, my friend." Looking around, turning his face into the weather, "I will walk about spending time with Shuvuu we will see what we can find." Usawoti extended his hand so Shuvuu could rest on the glove. Walking beside Mope, he pats the grey stallion on the neck. "Come walk with us my friend, let us see what we can see, while we commune."

Usawoti and Shuuvu will commune for the required time, while they go on a walk about, can Usawoti to determine the geography roll?

"Will you be moving far from the camp?" Inarus asks, concerned. "Erevel might be right, there could be nasties out there." He gestures at the torential rain beyond.

'hhhmmmm it must be bad if Inarus is agreeing with Erevel.' Usawoti shakes his head no as he walks toward the outside of the circle, "do not worry my friend, we will only walk here around the circle for a short time." keeping his hand rested on the horses neck they walk outside the circle and begin to walk around it.

CMB: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 14 = 24
CMB: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (19) + 14 = 33

Suddenly the black, sticky, oily "water" surges forth in a pair of tendrils to begin trying to wrap around Usawoti's leg!

A third surges forth to slam against the group, and disperses within the bounds of the menhirs!

"Simple-minded, idiotic ****ards!" pipes up Erevel, "What did I say about wits?! Obviously a wasted piece of advice on simple-minded ****-tards!"

He raises a hand and begins quickly chanting - sounding almost like three voices, in three different languages -

Suddenly a surprisingly clean-looking patch of sea surges forward, and slams multiple times into the black waters seeking to drag Usawoti into its fetid embrace.

house-done rolls for sekrits d'GM

The tendrils fall flat, oozing into limp liquid back into the ocean, and leaving their greasy stains on both Uswoti and his horse and the sand they leave behind.

"If you numbskulls value your gods-cursed worthless non-Elven lives, flee with me!" cries Ereven, chanting the strange voice again,

A massive explosion of the fetid black waters and an enormous depression appears in the water revealing a pulsing dark crystalline path below the waves, revealed for a brief moment.

"Run, you miscreant ill-begotten flea-bags! Take only what you can carry!"

Taking his own advice, Ereven begins to race down the beach towards the revealed crystal, though it's clear that his hip is bothering him and slowing him a bit.

Heh. Merry Christmas! >:}

What the .... having his leg grabbed by tentacle from the deep, Usawoti starts to pull as he shews Shuvuu into the air and begins reaching for the hammer at his belt.

As Erevel calls on magic to cause the creature to release his leg, Usawoti forgetting the hammer makes a clicking noise and runs into the circle grabbing his spear and rucksack.

The grey stallion trotting beside him, Usawoti, grabbing a handful of mane mounts the horse. Clicking again as he grips the horses flanks with his knees, he rides up the beach after the fleeing elf. "I keep telling you Erevel, a sharp mind is dulled by a sharp tongue."

handle animal: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (7) + 13 = 20 to command Mope to move with him
ride: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (17) + 14 = 31 to mount
handle animal: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (20) + 13 = 33 to command Mope with legs
ride: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (18) + 13 = 31 ride up to Erevel

not sure exactly how many rolls to give you for the mound and ride, worst case, he falls off and Mope runs off

"Yeah, I think we've overstayed our welcome. Lets move out." He helps pack up the tents and follows Erevel. He shakes Golan to get him awake and moving as well.

Take 10 (Loremaster) 23 knowledge dungeoneering(or relevant knowledge check) -wtf tried to pull Usawoti in?

Golan has mostly kept quiet throughout the journey; being one of the few day-guards for his tribe has acclimated him to a life of semi-solitude, and he is used to being taciturn around wingless pink-skins.

Still, what made it truly unbearable was not the elf's company - it was the rain, weighing-down Golan's feathers, and making it difficult to fly, one of his few joys in life.

When Inarus makes his suggestion, Golan shakes his head.

"Save your money - I can handle that myself. It has been many seasons since I have needed to sleep; my faith in myself and my tribe sustains me through the long, dark night."

Which is to say, I cast Keep Watch every night.

That evening at the standing stones, Golan takes up a sniping position atop one of them, sitting down to wait-out the night.

When things suddenly shift, he is shaken from his perch, but manages to unfurl his wings, and soar up into the sky.

He watches, moderately impressed with the competence of the elf.

So, he does have his uses, after all...

When the path is revealed, Golan nods, and swiftly flies forward.

Double move.

Why do I feel like we are going into Moria? ;-)

"Okay, maybe not a good idea." As Inarus sees his companions moving quickly forth, he abandons the tents and runs along after them.

Why do I feel like we are going into Moria? ;-)

ooh, ooh, ooh, pick me! pick me! "Speak friend" hmmmm, let see, it was right there on the tip of my tongue, give me a minute...

As Usawoti pushes his bird in the air, the creature barely has time to make a strangled squawk before being pushed away by the winds and sloshed into the waters ahead. It struggles valiantly, but pitifully against the sucking more of black waters, but fortunately, no pseudopods of the dark ooze that passed as water emerged to strangle the bird - for the moment.

Please make a CMB to rescue it as you head on your way; DC is only 8, but still. It would normally be a move or standard action to do this; I'm giving you a single freebie for springing it on you as literally the first thing to happen to your character in-game aside from, "You got to the place."

As Golan Swiftfeather soars, he finds his movement has no problem moving upward, but suddenly his flight creates a kind of vortex around him from the conflicting weathers, straining his wings and body, even as he attempts to follow the path.

Fortitdue (DC 22), Strength (DC 19), or Fly (DC 24) allows free flight for 1 round; all three may be made each round, but you must succeed at one each round.

Fortitude: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13
Strength: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
Fly: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (7) + 21 = 28

I'm rolling this for now, but I'd like us to determine now - should I, as GM, roll reactive/automatic checks like this, or should I allow the player. Most DCs will not be so clearly marked - consider this like a training exercise, or that first tutorial mission - you know, like the one in X-Com, where your entire team is slaughtered? >;) No, but teasing the players aside, who do you want to handle it? Letting the player roll gives a feeling of influence over one's own fate, but letting the GM do so is a push for a faster game. One half-and-half solution is for the GM to roll the first time and the player to take hold of any ongoing effects? Fell free to hash this out in discussion.

Barely breaking free of his self-created vortex that attempted to spiral him into spare parts, Golan Swoftfeather lives up to his name and surges forward, following the path, the dank wind, crushing rain, and unnatural forces seemingly attempting to devour him in the very air itself.

Inarus manages to set foot on the path and notices the spiral of water widen with each of his companions successfully on it - the black brackish oil ooze passing for water loosing ground before the spiral of pure salt water created from the pulsing crystalline platform-path, itself showing more width than had been visible - even pushing away the tainted filthy sand. Further he (as Golan) saw the path light up down the line as each person stepped on it, showing further where it would go. Each person clearly adds to the effect... but being the last, he could also feel the waters waiver behind him, closing the way back as he left the me hit and beach for the dark unknown and weakly pulsing path before him.

Generally, I am happy for the GM to roll Initiative and reactive skill checks, but I prefer to roll my own saving throws.

Golan winces as he sees a fellow feathered creature thrown down into the muck, but, determined not to give in to the strange aerial currents, continues to valiantly struggle on down the path, swooping down to pick up the bedraggled bird as he does so.

Fort: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22.
Strength: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13.
Fly: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (11) + 21 = 32.

Don't forget your CMB to help poor Shuvuu!

CMB: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30.

I figure that should cover it ;-)

Golan definitively made it!

Oh no, Shuvuu! Oh thank the spirits, Golan is truly a gods send.' Realizing that his hawk friend was in danger, Usawoti sees Golan rescue the hawk. Waiving to the flier as he struggles against the wind. "Thank you my friend!"

Seeing that Shuvuu was safe, He guides Mope toward the lighted path that Inarus was on, 'well, Erevel is certain an excellent wizard, if only he would learn how to communicate!'

ok have I forgotten anything? Where are we off to now?

Ugh. Finally, this went through!

The path expands before you as you run through it, the dark waters warring with the "pure" ones around the three on the surface.

Golan, you'll need to make at least two more sets of Fort/Str/Fly checks, if you're planning on flying the whole way right now. You've already passed this round's set with your last roll.

The waters start surging around you and through the blackness *splorch* forth some fetid vaguely humanoid shames, only for them to be slammed back into the ocean.

A massive sludge-form lands in front of Erevel, who ignores it, dodging it's thick "fist" (or whatever) and continues fleeing, leaving it looming directly in Inarus' and Usawoti's path!

"Hey, imbeciles!" shouts Erevel, "Fight neither weather nor foe! Just fly! But not literally, idiots!"

The thing lets fly another swing Usawoti as he charges forth on Mope.

Swing, batter-batter!: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26

The stench of the ropey mass narrowly missing both Usawoti and his horse is horrific, and causes his stomach to turn.

Roll fortitude.

ok have I forgotten anything? Where are we off to now?

I don't think you have, but I don't know. I'm not you, after all! :D

Fort: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30.
Str: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4.
Fly: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (4) + 21 = 25.

Fort: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22.
Str: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19.
Fly: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (10) + 21 = 31.

Cradling the poor bird in his arms, Golan skilfully manoeuvres through the swirling air currents, to reach his destination.

fort: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21 I didn't see a fort number to beat.

'Need to keep following Erevel.' Staying safely centered on Mopes back, he guides the stallion with his knees. Seeing the sludge like fist, Usawoti, grabs a handful of mane and drops beside Mopes neck. the stench of the ropey mess, blasting him, even though the gooey mess missed, his stomach begins to churn. Sitting back up on Mope his belly in knots.

Calling to Erevel, swallowing bile, "My good elf, you lead and we will follow!"

”A little hard to fly when there’s that big lump in front of you, isn’t it? Could you, you know…wave your fingers and make it disappear like you did for the last set of tendrils?” Inarus snarks at Erevel's disappearing back.

”Oh nevermind, I’ll handle this myself.” He reaches out, grabs onto Mope and Usawoti, then seemingly makes a leap into the air. And lands back where he started from.

defensive concentration check if needed –DC 23 for Ddoor: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (2) + 14 = 16

If it had been possible to move out of the monsters threatened reach, using 5 ft step, I would, but I suspect from positioning, not.

"Damnit." He curses. He takes out a Wand of grease from his handy haversack.

Also will take 10, to identify what creature it is - Knowledge dungeoneering 23

Cradling the poor bird in his arms, Golan skilfully manoeuvres through the swirling air currents, to reach his destination.

Nailed it! Nice! Reminder: in this combat encounter, I'm allowing all three checks (I'm not trying to slaughter you without you knowing stuff), however, in the future you'll have to choose. :)

I didn't see a fort number to beat.

I didn't give one to you - normally, (at least as currently planned), I won't give out DC information, unless you have a method of diving that sort of thing, or can guesstimate it with appropriate knowledge checks - I was trying to ease you guys into that, though. I'll allow it again, this time, but I want you three to discuss in Discussion if you normally want this kind of meta-information your characters wouldn't have. Not having it slows things down (unless the GM rolls stuff), but also creates an air of mystery and instills a cool sense of uncertainty that many players enjoy; knowing it often kind of kills the mystique ("I roll a 15. That beats the DC by 2."), but, especially if you want to roll your own saves, tends to speed up the process. The DC in this case is 17.

”Oh nevermind, I’ll handle this myself.” He reaches out, grabs onto Mope and Usawoti, then seemingly makes a leap into the air. And lands back where he started from.

<snip>

If it had been possible to move out of the monsters threatened reach, using 5 ft step, I would, but I suspect from positioning, not.

I... don't actually know what you just did.

Nevermind, got it: you attempted a defensive casting and failed the Concentration DC. I'm going to note something below here.

Also will take 10, to identify what creature it is - Knowledge dungeoneering 23

It's not something you immediately recognize, but you'd guess it's similar to something that has features of a large mud elemental with a lesser variant of the poisonous creature template. These are not exact stats - not that you'd have them in-character, anyway - but it's the closest you can drum up on such short notice (and will inform you of the majority of DCs/attack modifiers you'll need to know). Further, the creature seems to straddle the line between elemental and ooze and aberration... and local magical effect (see next sentence). You've never really seen this exact creature, before, but you do recognize its genesis - that dread and horror-filled awful that is primal magic.

Who knows?!: 1d3 ⇒ 1
Who knows?!: 1d3 ⇒ 2
Who knows?!: 1d100 ⇒ 64
Who knows?!: 1d100 ⇒ 58

As Inarus pulls out his wand, his previously attempted spell, suddenly takes off with him, even as an ooze-like appendage swings toward him.

Suddenly, a surge of light and good feeling floods his body - as well as Mope, Usawoti, the large mass of nastiness attempting to thwomp them, and some of shapeless dark surges "struggling" with the "pure"-looking water - even the water itself.

None of you are hurt, but you'd heal 110 hit points, if you were.

A mass of the dark water 1d8 ⇒ 5 behind and to either side of Inarus suddenly simply... vanishes... as a huge cascade of more surges into the hole left by the now-vanished oily substance, pulling against the very tide attempting to close in behind them.

At the same moment of all of this nonsense, a very terrified mouse suddenly finds itself perched in Inarus' shirt.

"Sqeeeeeeaaaaak~!" it protests in terror, clinging to Inarus' shirt-collar (or whatever passes for it) for dear, mousy life.

The surge immediately around Usawoti, Mope, and Inarus seems to break at this oddity, while more surges attempt to come forward, but find themselves sucked into the chasm left by the sudden absence of the black waters behind.

The characters see something of a "break" in the odd struggle of liquid v. liquid and see the path suddenly light up clear and strong before them - there will be no combat for 1d3 rounds (this number will be rolled in secret; *done*), but the torrential downpour continues unabated.

After another eighteen terrifying seconds of fleeing as fast as they can from a looming flood, Uswoti and Mope (having made the fastest time), followed by Erevel and finally Inarus find themselves on the beach.

"****! ****-****-****-****-****!" curses the irritable elf, in between deep, gasping attempts at getting non-water-logged air. "We're - *GASP!* - a full - *HUFF!* - ***-****ed hour - *WHEEZE!* - too early! WHAT KIND - *HHHHHHHHH! - OF ****ING IDIOTS - *PUFF!* - AM I - *>HHHHHHHH!<!* - STUCK WORKING - *DESPERATE BREATHING ATTEMPT! - WITH?!" he howls to the sky.

He pulls himself up higher on the beach, wheezing from being so very out of breath after his run and temper tantrum, but slowly catching his breath.

He intones, in the same odd three-fold voice from before,

The waters froth for a moment, and then re-surge with darkness, though it seems the sea's direct assaults are no longer aimed toward you.

The light coming from the sea evaporates, leaving a hairy moment for two flying allies, before they manage to find the land and their comrades.

Light returns to starting conditions. You are once again on a beach in a storm, but have no menhirs around. Wat do?

”What the hell just happened?”Inarus’s mouth drops wide open, as he stares aghast at his magic being warped. ”Holy sh*t! This whole place is a primal magic zone! We were lucky not to get blown up with my little mishap.” He gasps with relief as he finds himself still in one piece after the primal magic event. He looks at the water vanishing in with a mixture of shock and awe, not knowing how to react but gawk. The squeaking of the little mouse brings him to his senses. “Calm down little buddy, you’re with me, you’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He tries to reassure the mouse, as he runs up the path of light back to the shore(and hopefully relative safety) as fast as he can. He has an idle thought, 'Where did the mouse come from?'

Handle animal: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

He listens to Erevel’s diatribe, letting most of it pass through him, like he was a stone on the riverbed, and Erevel’s rant was but the river swirling above him. ”I take it that we came an hour too early, then?” He asks Erevel neutrally, struggling to keep his voice calm after the whole ordeal. ’If we are to gain more information on what situation we’re now in, it’d be best not to add oil to the elf’s fire…’

”Is there anywhere we’re supposed to be in an hour’s time and will the portal be reopening?” He asks Erevel. ”I suggest we move further inland – since the water is out to kill us. I’d like to get out of this primal magic zone as soon as possible.” He then proceeds to do that, unless Erevel insists on sticking near the water.

Is there any way to determine the limits of the primal magic zone? I.e detect magic pings?

’Yet alive we remain!’ as Erevel begins his rant Usawoti stops Mope on the clear beach, lifting his face to the rain and spreading his arms the shaman begins to laugh. ”Bwa ha ha, What a place!”

Swinging one leg over Mope’s neck he dismounts and walks up to Inarus, still smiling. Looking at the little mouse, quickly casting detect magic on it, asking; ”did this little one come out of that maelstrom when you attempted to cast a spell Inarus?” Pointing back to where the ooze glob had been. ”Did you say that thing was created by primal magic?”

Turning and looking slyly at Erevel, smiling as the elf continued on his tirade. ”You old trickster you, you knew the portals magic would cause something like this, so you were ready for it, Good Thinking! However you did not expect the time variation, sad. But even the greatest plans fall through! If not through plans all would succeed, and we know success is not guaranteed!”

Finally, as Golan and Shuvuu arrive Usawoti approaches them, carefully taking the hawk from Golans arms. ”Thank you my friend I am in your debt for protecting Shuvuu here.” giving a slight bow to Golan, he then places the Hawk on his shoulder. So the bird of prey could hold carefully on to the armor there.

started a couple of conversations but the only action is casting 'detect magic' on the mouse

Usawoti: that's fine - as we're not really strictly moving in "turns" at the moment, it's not really important. The mouse has a lingering aura of... something, but the aura is fading quickly, leaving a tiny quaking mouse attempting to hide in a man's shirt by covering its face with a collar.

EDIT: Oh, and I need a Spellcraft check! Whenever you detect magic, you'll need to roll one to get the most information out of it!

Inarus: the mouse seems to find you a perfectly acceptable place to hide and continues to grip its little toe-claws into the front of your shirt (it's back to your chest). It is still terrified, though.

Any other comments from Erevel would probably wait on Golnan to post, though he, too, would step inland... a little. He keeps within 20 feet of the shore.

spellcraft, urk
spellcraft: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

spellcraft: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17

"There, there, everything will be all right." Inarus continues to try to calm the mouse. He stows his wand back into his handy haversack, then breaks out a berry from one of his trail rations and offers it to the mouse.

Handle animal: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

I think I'm better at handling animals then spellcraft checks...

"I think this whole area is a primal magic zone. The guardian, He points to the water, "Is probably made from primal magic." He looks down at the mouse, scratching it behind the ears. "I have no idea where this wee lil fella came from, I don't think it was the spell I miscast..."

Golan nods in satisfaction when the rest of the party reaches the shore.

"Glad I am to see that the wingless have made it to relative safety."

He then nods to Usawoti.

"I take it that you would like your friend back? Please, be careful with that one."

When Ereval indicates that he wishes to stay near the shore, Golan shrugs, but likewise stays relatively close, although he covers the elf with his bow.

Inarus: without casting a spell, you don't have the chance to use that spellcraft to sense auras. That said, I really should have forced an effect on Usawoti; let's consider it a force of focus/passed concentration check, for now. Also...

Is there any way to determine the limits of the primal magic zone? I.e detect magic pings?

I realize I didn't answer this, sorry: sort of - as a spellcaster, you'd know if you crossed the border (though you don't automatically know that is a primal/wild magic zone border; you have to knowledge that puppy!). In your case, you're becoming increasingly convinced that you never "crossed" a border - at least not one that you could term as such, hence obscuring noticing its presence. You already know you've done something akin to teleportation. The only question is where, exactly, you were shunted.

"Gods **** it all to ****, what kind of worthless fools managed to provoke the sea an hour early." It's not a question. The elf is talking about you. You're the kind. Still, it has less cursing than his normal communication. "This is... wrong." mutters the elf.

He turns, blinks, taking in the vague locations of you all.

"They're not even staying near..." he spins and looks back at the sea. A low growl emits from somewhere inside him.

"Quickly, idiots." he says, urgently. "I must know: tell me who you are. Your name, age, race, and something about your history - one at a time; I can't stand your blathering all at once. And - this is important - tell me the year."

His eyes grow clearer and more focused than you've ever noticed - not that they've seemed obscured prior, but somehow they become... more alert. But not happier. No, he used to be relatively jolly. Now... he is not.

Golan frowns.

"This one is Golan Swiftfeather, who has seen 76 seasons, and is a member of the People of the Peaks, whom the Wingless call Strix. He has served with distinction as a Watcher, defending his People whilst the Great Fiery Orb makes its journey across the Boundless Sky. By the measure of the People, it 18 Baktun, 6 Katun, 5 Tun, 9 Uinal, 10 K'in, Hun Oc, 8 Sip, but as the Wingless record time, it is the 29th of Kuthona, 4107 AR."

My concentration check is +14, which means I auto pass for detect magic.

Inarus stretches his magical senses to determine the exact area of the primal magic zone. Also, taking 10 for knowledge arcana for 26, if its applicable

Inarus stares at the elf with his head cocked, with a slight puzzled furrow on his eyebrows. 'Throughout the entire journey, the only things he said to us were scoldings and insults, and now his sudden interest in our history? And can't he see I'm a half orc after traveling with me for that long, does he need glasses?' He continues looking at the elf. 'Well at least he asked...somewhat politely this time.'

Inarus eyes the elf from head to toe in an attempt to determine if there's anything wrong with him.
heal: 1d20 ⇒ 3
But he's not exactly trained in the medical arts, and the elf looks in good condition to him.

He decides to humor Erevel's request. "Erevel, today is the 29th of Kuthona, 4107 AR,"He decides to get a little revenge of his own, speaking to Erevel in tones that one would use with an intellectually challenged individual.

’The history, now that would need some telling. Pity I never inherited my mother’s voice’ He gathers himself, like he remembered Shadi doing, then bursts into song.
”My name is Inarus, of the horse clan, I belong,
In their honor I sing this song.
Of thirty five summers that I have seen
Many places that I have been.
I may be a half orc and a little green
But as a human I’d rather be seen.
I’ve rescued a princess from a tower
Climbed a mountain to find a healing flower.
I’ve roamed the lands far and wide
To right wrongs in the world I will ride.”

Perform Sing: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Oh, Inarus: the mouse has a swift-fading Conjuration, Enchantment, and Necromancy auras.

’My History, and the date? What an odd question.’ Shrugging his shoulders ”As the others have said, the 29th of Kuthona, 4107 AR,"

He approaches Mope and gently rests a hand on the stallion, continueing.”I am Usawoti a shaman of the a Shriikirri-Quah, though my clan tell me I am as much Aasimar as human. I am thirty summers old, and have journeyed the lands near and far my people so I may return to them with the knowledge of other lands and peoples that I have learned.”

Resting his other hand on Shuvuu’s wing. ”These are my traveling companions, The grey stallion is Mope and the Hawk, Shuvuu is my spirit guide.” Usawoti watches Erevel to see if the information helps change his disposition any.

Erevel blinks at the lot of them.

He looks stricken, turns, and walks a short distance away, before muttering to himself.

"..." he stares at you, then turns away.

He shakes his head, and stares out across the sea you just came from.

"Well, ****. In any event, we have about fifteen <t'chik-awort'se> before the next problem shows up. Gods curse this blasted place; I suppose it was inevitable." He takes the lot of you in - you realize, now, that perhaps it's for the first time on this journey. "Prep your spears, or other stabbing implements." he says. "I don't expect any of us to make it out alive, this time, but I expect us all to try." He takes in each of your eyes, attempting to muster a fire, but instead his gaze seems... gutted; empty. "None of you idiots distract me, I've got a count something." He tosses an insult, but there seems to be nothing there. Not really. Habit, or maybe just the semblance thereof.

He begins muttering to himself - the mutters issue rhythmically, but each "beat" comes with dissimilar sounds; either way, the rhythm is clearly associated with the same timing as his walking.

He focuses somewhat inwardly, walking almost by... memory.

You may talk to each other - or even him, though he has requested you allow him to concentrate - or take other actions, as you see fit. GenerallyI'll allow one to three posts each before assuming time has passed enough for him to "stop" - either way, I'm going to progress things tomorrow, if nothing else happens.

Perception: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (18) + 19 = 37

”Erevel, is this anyone you know?” He gently picks the mouse from his shirt, places him/her into his palm and shows him/her to Erevel.
(Knowledge nature DC 23, to determine if the mouse is a him/her)
He also notes the mouse’s reaction to Erevel (if any). He has a sneaking suspicion that the mouse might be Erevel’s special friend…

”Ten thousand years..what the hell? How did he live that long? What is he?” Inarus tries to control his expression when he hears that pronouncement, but it slips abit, and he blanches.

’Fifteen minutes…before the world comes to an end. Right, I can handle that.’ ”Gentlemen, we have 15 minutes before all hell breaks loose. I suggest we stand apart, to minimize possible collateral damage while we begin our preparations.” He addresses the group, then draws his lesser rod of extend, as he moves 60 ft away from the group before he starts his buffs.

Concentration check, DC 19 to prevent primal magic event for heroism: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (13) + 14 = 27

Extended heroism on self - 110 min

Keeping his fingers of his left hand triple crossed behind his back first, he then repeats the process on Usawoti."I could use the spell that makes your skin turn as hard as a tree." He remarks.

Concentration check, DC 19 to prevent primal magic event for heroism: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (20) + 14 = 34

Extended heroism on Usawoti - 110 min

He turns to Golan, "Do you want me to use the heroism spell on you or do you want to do it yourself?"

Normally Usawoti would send Mope away from combat and let him forage until they were ready to leave, and then Usawoti would call for him. Part of the perception is to look at the surrounding area to determine if it’s safe to send Mope away. The second perception is to look at Erevel’s appearance to see if he looks the same as he did before they went through the standing stones. The third perceptions is to hear what Erevel is saying.
perception: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (6) + 18 = 24
perception: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (9) + 18 = 27
perception: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (1) + 18 = 19

’Hhhmmmm is it possible that Erevel has sent us to a future or past Erevel and that he didn’t actually make the transfer with us? That would explain a lot.’ Not spending too much time worrying about the existence of their guide, Usawoti starts to take his recommendation seriously, looking for a place to send Mope.

’Spreading out is not a bad idea,' Turning to Inarus, ”Spreading out is a good idea Inarus, I have a few spells that will help also.” Then looking at the weather again, ”As long as this maelstrom will let me cast them.

Usawoti will start buffs, I will figure out which and then the concentration check for them and be back momentarily

Golan's frown deepens as he hears a lot of things that, at least somewhat, trouble him.

Nevertheless, he stays on high alert, ready to fight back if anything attacks.

Inarus; the mouse is a 1d2 ⇒ 1 male.

Usawoti: Erevel does not look any different than before. He looks emotional, but his apparent age is the same.

Erevel ignores everything and continues to walk forward muttering to himself.

After some distance, he frowns, and comes to a stop. "... of course it's not dead yet." he mutters, "... because someone decided to activate everything an hour early..."

He looks around, sniffing.

"Right." he says. "Shouldn't be too much for heroes-" he somehow makes the word a curse as foul as naything else his mouth has produced, "- like yourselves, but you'll need to keep ourselves alert."

He looks out. "****. She might just win this time." He shakes his head softly. A series of dramatic lightning strikes and loud thunder seem to emphasize his words as the world - for just the briefest of moments - is brightened by the cloud-hidden lightning far above. The winds intensify even above their previous amount, though the small divot Erevel has led you to seems to be below the most powerful wind.

He looks at Inarus.

"What." he says, a good quarter-hour after the question was asked. "Why the **** would I know that?" he says. "Oh, and a 'friend' or whatever the **** you think might be about to drop in - you might want to move a step to the rig-."

A screech of rage and hatred comes from the sky, as a head slams into Inarus. The mouse flips out and hides in Inarus' shirt again!

It's painful, you take Nonlethal: 1d4 ⇒ 2 damage, Fortitude: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12 and you collapse onto the ground, slightly dizzy (not a game effect).

"Ah, nevermind." says Erevel, dryly. "Seems you've become acquainted." He ducks to the right as a screaming head slams into the sand near him.

The head - for that is what it clearly is, despite having a host of tendrils and massive wing-like ears - writhes around pitiably in the sand, clearly hurt from its fall and collision - and whatever singed it. Small pustules and polyps, mushrooms and fuzz continually surge forth, burst, and eaten by other similar disgusting nonsense within and upon the head.

Within short order more screams and heads plummet to the earth - dozens more. They each fall, screaming, until they slam into the sand, cause plumes and sprays in their sizzled wake. The disgusting things seem dizzy, disoriented, and injured. Mope and Shuvuu begin to shift nervously highly disturbed by both screams and earthen impacts as the heads continue to fall.

"Welp. There's your first job - kill 'em quick while the killin's good. Once the <yole'ibyorti> arrives, or they begin to recover, it'll make things a little more complicated for you lot."

Erevel goes back to muttering to himself as before.

Congratulations! You see a ton of disgusting head-things! Inarus would be able to identify them as looking very vaguely like a vargouille, but with something very, very wrong with them - it's unclear if they're mutants, diseased, or some other vague imitation of a vargouille.

EDIT: Oh! I forgot!

The extremely rapid and fast-paced lightning above grants a rapidly flickering low light (though with less large monsters after you... for now! >:D) across the beach. It's clear you're in a surprisingly deep, but gentle-sloped divot of sand, with a forty-foot radius; there is a slight tilt to the area, with one being higher to a hill, and one (after the crest of the rim of the divot) heading back down for some distance to the beach. Small hideous scrub and even a few twisted and sick-looking trees are visible. The black waters seem to be reaching tendrils to snatching some of the falling heads and devouring them before you're eyes, as you watch a scene-by-scene dissolution of the things into the oily morass, as it rips them apart - any that are about to land in the water, or near enough - within twenty feet - of the surf to reach.

Lightning strikes the black waters, causing a brief fire that flares out across the surface, before simply going out, though that part of the vile "sea" seems unable to form psuedopods to catch or devour the falling heads. This happens several times in rapid succession.

In the distance you hear a wounded-and-diseased sounding roar - a sound Ereven doesn't seem remotely interested in.

One of the heads - one near Usawoti - begins using its tendrils to attempt to haul itself out of its divot.

Earlier
I will need to keep Mope close. Not seeing any place safe, Usawoti turns to the stallion, removing Shuvuu from his own shoulders and placing him on Mopes withers he tells them. ”Stay close my friends, there is no good place for you to wait for me other than here.”. He then casts ‘Magic Circle against Evil.’ Turning to the others he tells them, ”I have cast a circle against evil on myself, It should last beyond the hour we are waiting. If things seem dark, fall back into the circle.” Drawing his first rod he casts barkskin on himself, using the rod to extend the time. He then casts false life, also.

Are we still rolling concentration rolls? Just in case here they are for the three spells, in order
concentration:MCAE: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 14 = 24
concentration: barkskin: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (14) + 14 = 28
concentration: False life: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (20) + 14 = 34

Now
Leading Mope by the hackney as he followed Erevel and Inarus,’Too much for hero’s, I wonder where all this hatred comes from, I wonder who she is…’ Looking up as he hears a scream of rage and hatred coming from the sky. ’Well that is a very ugly… watch out…never mind, that had to hurt.’ Reaching a hand out to his friend, Inarus, ”Let me help you up Inarus, you look dizzy!”

Realizing there are more ugly heads falling, just as he hears Erevel say ‘kill them quickly’ Usawoti draws his hammer, seeing one of the heads using its tentacles to draw itself out of it’s divot, he gently pushes Mope away from the creature, stepping over near it he grasps his hammer in both hands and swings at the nightmare with wings, like a carnie driving a big top tent spike.

5 ft. step, Full attack: + 1 Holy earth breaker (PA, FF, WF, WV)
attack: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (3) + 14 = 17 for damage: 1d12 + 6 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 6 + 9 + 1 = 23
attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9 for damage: 1d12 + 6 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 6 + 9 + 1 = 18
wow, two 3's, that's sort of sad, TL is there anything I have missed, I'm still not comfortable with casters, let alone this high of level.