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(16) is plainly furnished with a desk surrounded by 6 chairs. There's also a small shrine devoted to Asmodeus. Oh - no, wait - It is Sarenrae, after all.
There is a basin in the shrine that holds water. Splashes of water in front of the shrine, in various stages of drying, suggest that the shrine has been involed in transporting water from the basin to the barracks.
Uhm...Yeah. Good luck with that.
The door leading west is labeled
Father Donnagin's
private quarters
If you were looking to catch him with his pants down, let me tell you, there's never been a better time.
Fumbling with the sheets he's carrying, Aerent fails to notice anything about his surroundings.
Sindran grins when he sees looks at the shrine, as if enjoying a private joke. He presses his ear to the west door and barely makes out the sound of Father Donnagin undressing.
He gestures Aerent to come over hurriedly and, when he is in position, opens the door quickly.
Before opening the door, Aerent infuses unholy power into his trident.
As the door opens, Aerent bows low, walking toward the priest. "Your pardon, sir, just here to replace the dirty laundry."
Once in melee range, Aerent pulls his trident and plants it in the good Father's chest.
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The humble chamber is the abode of the second most powerful man in the entire watchtower (behind only the commander). It contains only a cot, a small table, a prayer mat and a golden emblem of the Sarenraean Sun upon the wall. The small table has three books stacked on it.
His perpetually cheerful and easy-going nature make him seem anything but a religious zealot. But when Aerent steps in...
"Your pardon, sir, just here to replace the dirty laundry."
...The good father instantly recognizes you for wat you are.
"I'll have none of your lies here, heretic. " He releases a sigh. Then, with a disappointed look, he speaks to Sindran. "Et tu, Timothy? Well then - let us see which god favors their followers most..."
and Father D had previously rolled a lucky 13 which makes him #2 in the initiative order.
Father D takes a step into the middle of the room, firmly plants his feet and draws a fierce-looking scimitar from thin air, which he throws right between Sindran and Aerent.
The Spiritual Weapon strikes at Sindran, for
a hymnbook full of rousing spiritual music and
a surprisingly well written novel about a monk named Cadfell who solves crimes.
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Aerent's attack almost bounces off the shiny breastplate covering the father's chest, but at the last moment it finds purchase and gives the preacherman a very nasty cut.
I owe you a more detailed map, but the missus is begging me to come into the living room;)
rest assured, there are guards everywhere...!
Sindran is up, then father D and his pretty sword, then Aerent.
Timaeus grunts in pain when the scimitar draws blood as it whistles past. "It's Timaeus, not Timothy. Getting senile in your old age, Father?"
The disguised man chants raises his hands, placing his right with the thumb extended upward in the cup of his left hand. Flames start wrapping around the hands and over the wound the spiritual weapon caused.
"So sorry it had to be this way," Timaeus says, sounding polite but not sorry at all. He aims his thumb at Father Donnagin. "Like I said, I've chosen my path."
Sindran ignores the scimitar as it scores another gash, reciting the final word to release a bright ray of fire at Father Donnagin.
"Surrender now and your acolytes won't suffer. Continue to resist and they will all die slowly and in agony. " he says in reply. Aerent then steps forward to avoid the floating scimitar while reciting a litany of sloth against the priest. Pulling his trident back, he quickly reaches a flame-covered hand toward Father Donnagin.
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Sarenrae's sun on Father Donnagin's breastplate reflects the light of Sindran's fire beautifully, but it does nothing to prevent the priest from suffering nasty burngs. You can almost feel Sarenrae in Golarion's heaven glaring down at Asmodeus, for assaulting her followers in this manner.
Father D takes a 5ft step West, and calls upon Sarenrae "Lady of Light - Shield your loyal follower from the fires of Hell!"
And he casts sanctuary.
Timaeus tries to take a quick step as close as to the Father he can, swooping away from the scimitar.
He begins another chant, keeping his aim on the Father even while he pays attention to any attacks aimed at him from the corner of his eyes.
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you still provoke with your ranged touch attack.
The holy sword vigorously defends its master, trying to prove with force that Sarenrae is the true goddess.
for (miss)
normal attack in round:
While the holy sword runs an effective crusade against the orc, Father D steps back, and is now in the NW corner of the room. He waits for a good opportunity to dodge Aerent and then releases a spell on him:
Aerent, roll a DC17 will save against the spell, please.
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Since he's down to less than a handful hitpoints, I'll just give father D a few famous last words and then he's quite dead. He was going to cast Hold Person on Aerent, but I don't think he'll live long enough to complete that spell.
Aerent and Sindran pour down the force of Hell on the poor father. With his last breaths, father Donnagin spits a curse at you through his teeth:
"Cursed Asmodeans! Sarenrae shall avenge me!"
You'd never admit it to another person, but the chilling sensation down your spine makes you wonder for a second if she might actually go as far as that...Only time will tell.
What is certain, however, is that father Donnagin has left this world, and his soul will soon find out if Sarenrae favored him.
+1 breastplate with that annoying sun on it
heavy steel shield
masterwork heavy mace
silver holy sun
keys to choir house, church, and rooms 14 - 17
Sindran spits some blood out and grimaces when he gives a tentative touch to where the spiritual weapon ran him through. "I'll stay here and impersonate him after we've hid the body. Are you staying in the castle for the night or going back to the others, Aerent?"
Aerent looks down at the crumpled form of Father Donnigan, then at Sindran. "I'm going to stay here tonight, got some ideas I want to explore, especially with so few guards at their posts."
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Take 10 will suffice. It only needs to be hidden for a few hours of night, and there's plenty of space in a wardrobe...
Sindran, please prepare for the memorial. That's about 9 hours from now.
Everyone: Whenever you're ready, post your position (the room inside the fortress) where you'll be when the fire rocket will be launched.
I just need to know where you'll be and what you look like when the invasion starts, so I can place the encounters in an appropriate area.
Sindran begins the process of healing himself, holding a hand wrapped in flames to his wound, the heat beginning to cauterize flesh.
He then takes Father Donnagin's form and flexes his hands, walking around the room to get a feel for the disguise. "That's fine. I'll stay here. Before I forget, take this." He takes out a wand and hands it to Aerent. "This will take care of healing when I'm not there. I ordered this off the Good Father. Apparently the have a stock of such wands, so if you happen to stumble across it, that would be fortuitous. That reminds me, I should get my payment back...."
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Where will the rest of you be while you await the signal for the invasion? Who will be launching the fire rocket, and (again) from where?
Take a look at the map of Balentyne
The legend for the map is here
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Aerent goes through the officer's private quarters one by one.
Fortunately, he takes particular care to be quiet as he enters the first. As soon as he opens the door, he hears a large man sleeping.
Aerent has found the last remaining captain, Samual Barhold, sleeping in his bed.
What will you do?
The other three rooms are empty, because the other captains have recently been killed or mysteriously gone missing.
rooms 4 and 5 belong to Varning and Mott, respectively; they don't own anything worth anything.
room 6 is captain Zack Eddarly's private chamber.
These handsomely appointed quarters are the home of Balentyne’s resident gallant – Captain Zacharias Eddarly. His wardrobe is full of clothing more fitting a noble than a captain of the Watch Wall. All of his finery in total weighs 20 pounds and is worth 500 gp. In addition to the finery, there is also concealed in the wardrobe a collection of explicit
love letters exchanged between Zack and Kaitlyn Mott.
With the recent nastyness, the room hasn't been cleaned out yet.
-----
Aerent spins his trident so the barbed tines are pointed downward. Grasping it in both hands, he raises it high over his head, then slams it down into the sleeping man's chest!
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Yeah. I'm sure I can roll a 60 somehow... ;)
Captain Barhold is a craggy-faced veteran watchman who first joined the guard when he lied about his age and became a soldier at age 14. That was twenty years ago.
Today, he stands on the cusp of middle age certain that he will spend the rest of his life guarding this wall. Captain Barhold is no crusader against evil like Lord Havelyn. He is a soldier dedicated to his homeland and seeing her safe. Respected by the entire garrison, he has earned the nickname “Iron Sam”.
His death will shake morale greatly.
There is a bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a chair here as well as other typical furnishings. The only thing of any value here is Captain Barhold’s medal of commendation (made of silver and sapphire and worth 75 gp).
Bar-hold owns a masterwork greatsword, a +1 dagger (a gift from the commander, when he earned his medal 15 years ago: for exceptional valor on duty, defending the town against a small group of bugbears)
There are only a few hours left until dawn.
Heading up to Talon's room disguised as Lisandra just before, only one task remains on the Necromancer's mind. When Talon answers, Lisandra invites herself in, and immediately drops the act once inside the room.
"Talon, I'm heading outside of town. The others brought Varning's body back, and left him hidden outside of town. I should be back before dawn." Heading immediately again towards the door, Caladwhen stops and adds with a smirk "You can accompany me if you wish to see something spectacular."
Grabbing her horse from the stable, Lisandra smiles warmly at the stable boy and tosses him a silver piece for his troubles. Riding out of town, Lisandra draws her cloak and picks up the pace the moment she leaves the city. About fifteen minutes out of Aldencross, she rendezvous with her Draugr sentries and drops the disguise, and makes her way to where the others hid the body.
After searching a bit, Lisandra smiles as she finally finds the body in a shallow grave. "Right where they told me it would be." Sitting down by the body, Caladwhen takes out an apple and cuts off a piece and looks towards the setting sun.
Finally, as the sun crests and darkness gathers Caladwhen stands and brushes her hands together. It's time. Producing an onyx she purchased in town, Caladwhen whispers two words in a frightening dialect. "M'aghi nai" Releasing her grip on the onyx above Varning's body, the onyx floats slowly down, hovering a mere three inches above the chest of fallen Captain.
Closing her eyes, Caladwhen kneels down beside the corpse, such that the onyx is centered with her body. Holding her arms outspread, Caladwhen begins to recite the same phrase over and over again, slightly louder each time "Baer lacyer nomen kas. Baer lacyer nomen kas." As Cala's voice raises, it begins to echo in a strange and discordant manner, the wind begins to pick up, and all manners of forest life flee, heading in a directions in a mad attempt to get away from this most unnatural of magicks.
Finally, the wind picks up to a a howl that almost sounds like terrified screaming, and clouds cover over the moon. Natural itself appears to oppose the lithe elf necromancer, protesting in any manner it can... yet the procurer of this terror remains resolved. "Baer lacyer nomen kas!" With the last shout, Caladwhen throws her head skyward, and opens her eyes which appear stark white and glowing eerily. Suddenly the onyx dissolves into a gaseous energy that leaks into the body of Varning, causing his body to jerk and his eyes quickly open.
As quickly as it came, the wind dies and the clouds break... only an unnatural silence remains. As the color returns to Cala's eyes, so too does her icy demeanor. Standing up, Caladwhen looks at the newest edition to her undead servants and grins. "Welcome back Captain Varning."
Talon smiles "Well you can't expect me to sit here after such an offer like that can you?"
Talon folds his arms and watches Cala with interest, and when the ritual begins he tenses, feeling the wildlife flee. He lets a hand slide down to his sword, feeling it pulse with the magic. As the body rises Talon laughs loudly, a weird thing coming from him "Oh this is rich! And I thought that I had a good idea to lower their moral, oh no you are much cruel than I"
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That evening, a traveller from Ghastenhall, in extravagant clothing, comes fleeing into Aldencross. Shaking, with wide eyes he babbles on about freak winds and panicked animals in the nearby forest.
Nobody pays him much heed, because everyone already has enough trouble on their mind.
After a few drinks in the inn, he soon recovers, and starts to apply every bit of his marketing skill to announcing "The Fall of Amberlyn, starred by the famous thespian William Marcus Marlowe, the beloved Bard of Barrington himself."
He hangs posters all over town, spreads the word about the play which is scheduled for thursday evening.
The following morning, Sindran wakes well rested, and starts his final preparations for the morning's remembrance service.
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Sindran starts his day by making sure his disguise is perfect, looking into the closet where Father Donnagin's corpse lay. He has his pride and would suffer cold winter before he got caught on missing a physical detail. Shame he couldn't get more time to observe the Father's mannerisms, but the half-orc thinks he'll do more than a passable job since he's already seen the man preach.
A small frown worms its onto his face when he remembers the headache he had then. Perhaps not a good idea to imitate the man too closely. Sindran is sure he's a far better orator anyway and he's less likely to give people a migraine.
"Perhaps Sarenrae will avenge you," Sindran says absent-mindedly to Donnagin's charred corpse. A person's character is his fate and as annoying as he was, Donnagin burned brightly. He could relate to that at least. "But I do not think today will be that day."
Sindran closes the doors, leaving the corpse where it hid. There was impatience, yes, so much that he needed to. There was the restlessness and the hunger for something more. But he is calm when he goes to see if the acolytes are awake and have seen his note.
"Ah, have you gathered the oil?" Sindran says in Donnagin's voice to the first acolyte he finds. "I'll be doing the service in the middle of town, don't forget, and I want to do it while the sun is high and bright so do hurry. Get the soldiers to help if you need to, just gather as much oil as you can, any flammable kind. You don't need to bother with blessing it, it will be fine."
Sindran is a being of smoke and fire, a destroyer, an ender of lives. He knows who and what he is, if not what he is meant to do. He knows to smolder in place like a waiting ember. Fire need not be wild all the time. He rages in silence, blazing where he is, and that is enough. A town will burn. That is enough.
Sindran smiles with Father Donnagin's face and it is cruel.
Talon sits atop the highest point he could find, crouched like a gargoyle and dead still. Finally. It is time to bring down the cruelty these people deserve he stands and flares his wings out to their full length, letting the sun catch them and cast his shadow down upon the peasants. He feels his sword pulse in response, and with an ancient strix battle cry he leaps off the building and flies out of town Let us see what they make of that. A little ominous if I do say so myself
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The townsfolk flee in panic upon witnessing the 'dragon', as the ignorant fools call Talon's appearance over the town. More than a few voices proclaim the end of time is near, it must be so, since the seven deadly sins are being punished one by one; Beautiful Kate and her lover were punished for their lust; Kate's husband for wrath; Eddarly for envy, the wizard for his greedy secretsa...yes...it all comes together! It all makes sense now! we must pray to Sarenrae for forgiveness!
fortunately, before the yammering becomes unbearable, father Donnagin arrives at the town square, with his acolytes. They start distributing the fragrant oils among the faithful flock, exactly as per father Donnagin's instructions for the 'ritual', while the good father walks across the market square and climbs upon a bench or picknick table in the market square, so the flock can see him better.
Eventually, all attending citizens are doused with the blessed oils. The acolytes draw a circle around the gathered crowd, and while the sunlight reflects beautifully off the giant oily circle, it almost seems as if everyone is protected by Sarenrae's glowing sun. Heartwarming, indeed.
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Meanwhile, at Balentyne tower...
from his position near the loweest level of the tower, Oret hears the scraping and crunching of something heavy trodding down the stairs. It seems that Caladwhen has indeed managed to hack the golem's internal task queue, and the golem is now performing the "open gate" task that Cala has set for it.
It has started the climb down the stairway.
Oret, you've counted 2 guards instead of the normal 8. They're one floor up from the lowest level, so if they decide to throw a fit, others are likely to notice the alarming sounds.
Then again, within minutes, a frikkin' Ice Golem will be strolling casually through the garden. People will notice, no matter what...
Sindran continues to hold most of the town's attention, preaching in the middle of the gleaming circle of oil, himself similarly covered. There is mild discomfort, but he barely notices even as he speaks in Father Donnagin's guise.
"All is burning," he says, words flowing easily from his mouth. He adjusts himself where he stands so that he can be better seen above the crowd. "The process of combustion is the key both to life and to that of the world. It is a process that never rests; for a flame must always be fed by fresh exhalations as fuel, and it is always turning into vapor or smoke. The steadiness of the flame depends on the measures of fuel kindled and the measures of fire extinguished in smoke remaining constant.
"If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it's your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Any other form of existence will be yet another dull book in the library of life.
All he has to do is stand here and talk, distract them, but there is a heady sort of thrill, Sindran thinks, to preach to a crowd and have them hang onto his every word. He does not think he understand what he means, nor if any of them are truly listening, but he speaks all the same.
"The change of fire is what makes it everlasting. It is impossible for fire to consume its nourishment without at the same time giving back what it has consumed already. All things are an exchange for Fire, and Fire for all things, even as wares for gold and gold for wares.
"You may ask yourselves, what have you done to deserve these recent misfortunes? Ask yourselves also what you have have not done, and ask yourselves if you deserve anything at all. All things come into being and pass away through strife. We ought to know that war is the common lot, and that justice is strife, and that all things arise through strife and necessity. These misfortunes are justice, not injustice, and War is the father of all things."
Sindran continues his speech, pausing only when he sees the signal. It is time. Around him, he hears muttering, but he raises his voice high above it.
"Fools when they do hear are like the deaf: of them does the saying bear witness that they are absent when present. Eyes and ears are bad witnesses to people if they have souls that understand not their language.
"Know this: I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong."
Sindran feels the spark within him, eager to run wild and blaze.
"Fire is want and excess. Fire lives the death of air and in its advance will judge and convict all things. It is cold things that become warm. Fully burned out, you are released. There is nothing further for this world."
Sindran smiles and instructs the crowd to hold onto each other tightly. He looks upon the flock circled around him as they follow his instructions, their bodies oiled and gleaming in the sunlight. The acolytes hold onto him, linking him into the circle. He clasps their hands tightly.
"This day will be a trial by fire. Let us burn. Sindra."
He releases the spark within himself and ignited.
After Talon flies off he drops quickly and lands in a secluded area, then changes his appearance to that of a normal working man and goes to Sindran, not close enough to get burned but close enough to back him up on his escape
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Once the golem reaches the first floor of the tower, the two guards realize the source of the pounding noise is not below them, but behind them.
The sight of the marching Golem confuses them greatly, however the most clever of the two manages to place himself and his halberd in the path of the golem.
"S..s..Stop!"
The golem simply replies "Syntax Error." and slowly marches on, simply trampling the guard to red sauce beneath it.
The other guard drops his halberd and runs down the stairs, whimpering, while the golem simply marches on.
That's when the scared guard meets Oret.
Disguised as a matronly serving woman puttering around the courtyard, Oret chuckles to himself when he hears the disturbance from the keep. And so it begins...
He walks purposefully into the keep and, once inside, changes his appearance to that of a guardsman. When the scared guard reaches Oret and begins explaining the situation in a hurried voice, Oret feigns interest for a few moments, then takes a deep breath. As he releases it, his arms are a blur of motion.
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The Golem, being the ice cold stoic it is, arrives on the ground floor, and moves in a straight line towards the tower's exit. Seconds later, a servant drops the items they're carrying and flees, screaming.
In the southwest tower, a lone guard is making his patrol when he hears a serving wench screaming her head off. He decides to take a look.
Ten seconds later,
The keen guard is aware of the casualties and the recent difficulties, and tries his best to prevent further mishaps. As soon as he spots the Golem, he bangs his sword and shield together, and shouts from the top of his lungs:
"ALAAAAAAARM! INTRUDERS IN THE COURTYARD!"
The golem marches on, and reaches the bottom of the stairs leading to the battlements.
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half a mile away, on the sunny top level of the gatehouse(25), another guard notices the commotion.
"Huh? What the..."
It takes him a few seconds to fully grasp the situation, but he responds dutifully, and calls down to his colleagues.
"Light! Hey, Leers, Streak - one of you go get the capt - oh dammit, I keep forgetting, sorry'boutyerloss - Lord Havelyn. There's trouble in the courtyard!"
Streak draws the short straw, and runs off, starting to cross the Bridge of Death(24). Leers, who must've earned his nickname from his gawdawful squint, stands up and prepares for trouble.
The guard crosses the bridge and passes another guard hurrying to the gatehouse. Arriving, he hails the squinting man, then hurries to the ladder to reach the top level of the gatehouse.
Reaching the top, he hurries over to the guard, "Can you believe this?"
As soon as the man begins to respond, Aerent plants his trident in the man's chest.
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Aerent, with you moving, bluffing and killing, that's about 3 rounds' worth of actions.
The guard who called the alarm is making his way to the south-eastern tower (32) on the double. I'll assume Oret makes an effort to reach the top of the stairs (29, SW of 24) first.
Oret, to the north, you see one guard (=mister Streak) running from 24 towards one of the northern towers.
To the south, you hear the guard who sounded the alarm clunking down the stairs into 32, coming your way.
Hearing the noisy guard barreling down the stairs, Caladwhen sighs at the thought of having to intervene. Frowning as she zeroes in on the stairs, she whispers in her native elven tongue "Khelek ent gurtha su amin." Upon uttering the phrase, ice appears to form around Caladwhen's arm seemingly from nowhere, but doing no harm to her person.
The moment the guard is visible from her vantage point, Caladwhen raises her arms and calmly says "Pelekt." Instantly the ice blasts in a sharp ray out from her arm and right into the guard, freezing him in his tracks.
As the guard crumbles under her spell, Caladwhen shakes her head while speaking telepathically with Lars I hate having to get my hands dirty.